Freedom

He had travelled the world,
danced upon the edges of humanity,
countless times
ungoverned by compass or fear.

Returning home, he fled for shelter,
front door scarred with bolts
the heavy curtains dragged their heels,
T.V overheating as the pizzas burnt.

He uncuffed his thoughts, slowly
gifting each a merry moment
they repeated as much as the adverts, louder
up to the barbed wire, tripping over their nervous excitement.

"Tomorrow I will free another," he winced.

Opposite the mirror, skewed pinned photos
hung;
scenes of jovial spirit and endeavour -
wine, legs entwined.

Next day's memory - like an oxygen bubble climbing out,
of the lightless deep,
a squirming entity,
breathless and wanting.