Security Tower

The silver threads hang from the camera
Security
Cold
Hard
There
I look up
At myself in the mirror
It is not my mirror
Not like Alice
Alice chases me through the tunnels
Past the box
Where there is a machine to start your heart
My heart
I think
My heart has gone
There are no vital signs
Yet every sign is vital
Like the dog shit on the don’t dog shit sign
Like my old name on the painting
I receive a call
Back from the beige place
Two people jumped
One broken leg
One spilt bag of pills
My home
The one that slipped away
Cold
Hard
The fairy tale
In the back of my head
No powder or bench brings it back to me
I keep home
Wrapped up
The blue coat
The scarf
The smell of me
Tied up in a shopping bag
It is a flimsy defence
Like the camera
The one which does not see inside of me
The camera which captures me
Cold
Hard
Security
The silver threads my hair dangling from the tower
A tower which I cannot jump from.