238/365: Disconnection

I'm sure I don't see anything most days.
I walk interior walls
and monitor the world with an infant's congenital reflexes.
I watch the movements and hear the speech
from hands and a mouth I'm told are mine.
Consciousness is the interloper here —
it is not the battery and barely the motivator for this dumb robot —
a prisoner in isolation awaiting orders.
I am a prisoner in isolation awaiting orders.


I am writing one poem every day in 2016, and I am using the hashtag #365poems to document my progress.