As time dies every night
when it is quiet enough to hear the walls talk in their sleep,
after the doors are sealed shut
and echoes are the only form of life I can hear
but cannot understand,
I plan my escape over and over again,
locked down to nothing but my mind
that lies awake every night
wandering along the pleas that I have already taken,
replaying the verdict,
imagining some other prison,
a better cellmate,
maybe a window with a view.
The clock slowly ticks away at my sentence,
and although I cannot see it,
I can count the sunrise every day,
and breathe each time I feel the moon.
I pace the white walls back and forth,
kneel to concrete every so often
while my palms remain clenched together
pointed to the ceiling.
I silently scream at myself
refusing to sympathize
with my heavy shoulders.
I drink from a metal trough
attached to where I piss,
behind a cement wall
where my eyes make constant contact
with the prison guards
but no words are ever exchanged
between them and me.
I remain locked behind Georgia State Lines
injected with Kryptonite
that even Superman couldn’t bend
soon enough to save me,
and I can’t stop thinking about filtered water,
fresh coffee,
that first drag off of a Marlboro Light,
a shower with a curtain and a private toilet with a door,
and as I indulge in my life’s outside pleasures,
I realize,
that is not so much to lose,
yet still I count down, plot,
and wish for a guacamole burger with a milkshake,
and maybe some silent walls where I can get some goddamn sleep.
March 31, 2018 at 10:38 pm
Hi how are you On 29 Mar 2018 10:45, “A Fly on the Wall Inside My Mind” wrote:
> Jai K posted: ” As time dies every night when it is quiet enough to hear > the walls talk in their sleep, after the doors are sealed shut and echoes > are the only form of life I can hear but cannot understand, I plan my > escape over and over again, locked down ” >
LikeLike