Disengaged

The day bleeds away, dripping slits
in the wrists of excitement and longing.
Rigor dwindles, the waning moon,
faded into dusty cosmic clouds.
Time tightens its grasp,
and I am ancient.
Once, before the tall
and lonely
white man professed to me, I had dreams and aspirations,
and desires.
But now I punch my brain card to the lull of his voice.
How far will my willpower alone carry me?
Fantasia has run dry,
like I was always warned it would.
Where I once played and laughed and
swung from the great trees of the earth,
where long vines teemed with life
and time bristled sensually past me,
there I am now lost in dreadful solitude.
How crushing,
when love turns to hate,
and freedom to fear,
and joy to horror.
A forest can be a prison if it is wide enough.
My God, when did I lose my wonder?