Throw out everything 
   you know about the concept 
     of brick-and-mortar structures 
  and for one moment 
    contemplate that bricks 
are text-lined rows on row 
   to complete full sentences 
each other captures 
   the soul with a desire 
     for emancipation

  Reality 
    words can be prisons
shackled brains 
   unable to un-contemplate 
  (not really a word 
     but I think you know 
       what I mean) 

Sentences, have the power 
   to reduce us to nothing
 encased by our own being 
   
Sentenced to an organ of the soul’s 
   death, complicated 
     diluted passion 
        that once existed 

 A prison created 
   with nothing but words
      trapped words hold true 

   Fraudulent capacity to escape 

      If the walls were paper 
they could be torn or cut 

    If they were made from brick 
they could be sledgehammered 
    to rubble 

   If they were galvanized 
     in a foundry they can be melted 

   If they are imagined
     they can be repurposed 
        upcycled thoughts