The freedom of being in chains

Confined to a chair of four legged wheels, the ink in my pen is as numb as my legs, the joy on the floor ceases to mock the soles of my slippers, the steep shadow doesn't follow me down to my streams.  The soils delicacy of plucked smiles and the pirate that taunts my cat. " the chains on your legs are as valuable as the wind" (repeatedly in ode patterns) time eats my supper as I watch it's mouth munch my vitamins down it's analogs.  I'm i free to stand before a four legged monster that has the key to unlock my legs, to my surprise I crushed it's skin from limb to limb, was it my  piercing screaming or it's hatching cracks.  Soon a bold bad shiny chair of four legged wheels scooped me off my feet," maybe this one will set me free " my heart whispered, to my disbelief it made my toes tighter than a throat hanged on a line to dry the blood.  Well that's a bumper, I was hoping my freedom will allow me to move at least one toe.