Asylum Poem by Daniel Y.

They have put me in this room. This dark, quiet, lonely room.
For nine thousand years I have waited here.
Decaying ever gently into oblivion, ever so gently.
You don't know silence.
When you are locked in darkness without eyes or ears, and the walls move out of reach continually.
That place of absolutes.
My eyes sting with a hunger for light. Even just an ounce.
But it will not come for another thousand years.
Forceful thoughts will slowly penetrate my head, and I will find company in them.
The emptiness is suffocating me.
But death will not deliver. It's sweet embrace, is a forgotten fantasy; the product of a deranged mind who thought we might have some hope. Sitting on a cold concrete floor and rocking back and forth, with nothing to face but darkness for all eternity. This is silence.
My skin burns and shivers at the same time. My mind lapses. Here, I see a vast desert laughing at me, a strong wind blows sand in my face, and my skin peels off like wallpaper. Alas, it is not real! I know it is not. It is pure feeling. Feeling anything to keep me sane. Of course, I'm the sanest person around.
Trying to sleep. How it evades me! When I do dream, I dream of trying to sleep. I awake as if the dream itself never happened. Still tired and alone. But whenever I open my eyes no light meets them. Feeling as though they never opened at all.