In my sleep
I drill holes in walls
To snake these wires
Desperate
For an outlet
Made of meaning
And a purpose
Worth their length

When power
Is something earned
Through force
Of sheer obsession
To relieve
Such darkened corners
By fear whose light
Gets plugged

Like brightness
Now contrived
Where pathways
Housing currents
Conduct what hope
Is missing
From each plate
That bears its name

Convinced
This dream will end
If strands
Become inactive
While pulling lines
Past sheetrock
Building circuits
Barely stretched

Beyond
Those tangled means
Gaining access
Without limits
Along cables
Seeking exit
Among spaces
I can’t reach

Confined
Inside my mind
Staying live
Though going missing
Getting lost
Behind old panels
With long webs
As spiders crawl

Amid dangers
Facing cracks
Watching coils
Wiggle past them
Scuttling shyly
Between nightmares
Hidden wisely
So they wait

For my wild hand
Which grips
Praying answers
Being threaded
Offer solace
Per electric
Chasing dimness
Soon to bite.

– J. Pigno