#21 Archived

I sink my teeth into
tattered memories,
grimy and fading
from lack of use.
Digging through ancient tomes,
I find myself in the margins.
Bared soul and hands shackled,
chains gouging my wrists.
My head bursts from the pages,
trying to get some air.
I lose myself
in musty volumes,
stacked floor to ceiling.
In back rooms
and old libraries,
I dig myself out
of the archives.
I bury the key
to find where I am
and write myself
out of the margins.