Fox Mulder 4/3/01
Part II—Written in the Psych Ward
Fox Mulder, 8/24/01
Mulder's Poem to Krycek
clock
ticks and I
lick my
lips, again—
feeling the way my
fingers tighten
(relax)
on cold metal
(waiting)
clock ticks in the
silence and I
(relax)
feel my fingers on my thigh
resting
(stroking)
clock ticks and it's
the only sound in the
slience but I breathe
anyway and let
the closed blinds leave
laddered slashes of darkness across my
body
(alone now with your memory)
clock ticks and there's no
hammer to thumb back so I
sit silently and still—
waiting to die
(relax)
waiting for you to walk back
in—
waiting for the end
of the world
a hand
confined
cannot staunch a child's tears;
a leg
restrained
cannot follow the path
of a lifetime's work
or the joy
of a lifetime's love;
a body
trapped
is a piece of breathing meat
with the clock merely ticking backward
the work
denied
becomes apathy, then atrophy
the mind
restricted
leaves no room for thoughts of truth
ears
closed
do not know the meaning of innocence
eyes shut
see no injustice, nothing wrong
heart turned away
does nothing;
freedom, God, so much more than just a word
a hand
...confined.
