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sunk without trace

"Sunk without trace?"

It wasn't much of a vacation.
	apparently living
	"like a human pickle."
	trapped		cramped,
	strapped	to the sensation
	strangled		pinched.
	panting 		choking
	churning the air.
	suspended on the spur
	of the mundane moment,
	dangling from a ventilation system,
		suffocating!
	hung and whipped by the many
	pitfalls  retained,  lodged
	caged. 	blocked 	locked again.
	Prepare the dungeon
	for the screwed up
	doors and locks and silence.
	hostages, eating away at the facade
	of birthdays and holidays,
	only to dredge up petrifying
	sandwiches and cookies.
	a long anticipated monotone
	surrounded		stunning
	kidnapping		capturing more slaves.
	making beds and cleaning bathrooms,
	ice caves.		all washed and dried.
Meanwhile
	pangs of dogged right and wrong,
		posing hypothetical
			snapped.		crying wolf.
			wagging their tail and trembling.
	The real reason stood up,
		begged
		and simply crumpled.

	"What kind of man are you?"

A pack rat snuck out of the box,
						emptied.		
mixed, collage on paper, 20" x 28"
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JAMES W JOHNSON