the mood of the subjunctive
is haunting my waking days
and tainting my sleep with
nightmares - will the plants
no longer reach for light?

I wake up in a mason jar
knocking on the glass walls,
a cry for help to those who
can see, but not hear and
they're not allowed to speak.

the comfort had kept me nice
but when I lost it,
there was no reason not to
snarl and growl- I could have
been across the universe now.