Tuesday, 26 July 2011

picturesque utopia

It's a Sunday.

Not that you can tell, mind.

As one might imagine,
the difference betweem the days is barely recognisable
in a situation as amazingly fortunate as the one i am
currently being held against my will in.

On the weekdays,
at least we are given a little glimmer
of the outside world, in the form of mail.

In theory anyway.

Mine never comes,
if it does it's weeks or possibly months late,
and when i send shit out it either turns up months
later, or simply disapears.

Great stuff.

Other than that,
it's the same shit,
day in day out.

Staring up at the ceiling while laying
on my bed is one of my most exciting
hobbies i've got.

I'm pretty good at it too.

Whoever might be reading this,
picture the nearest toilet to where you
are at this very present moment.

imagine being forced to 'live' in the confines
of that toilet for at LEAST two years.


To make matters even more enjoyable,
cut that space in half as you're sharing
it with another dude.

Take this picturesque utopian setting,
and now transport it to a foreign country,
thousands of miles away from anyone that
gives a flying fuck about you,
can help you,
give you advice
and come and see you.

Welcome to my world.

Some days i feel like i'm on the cusp of completely
losing my fucking brain in here.

Staring up at the ceiling with my headphones blaring jazz
music and a bladder full of coffee, i find myself fighting a
constant battle with my over-active imagination..

I think about what i will do when i am eventually free,
where i will go and the various things i will be sticking
my penis into.

That naturally leads one to thoughts of time,
how long to go, how much time has passed,
which then transcends into the same old spiral
of mulling over how utterly DISGUSTING it is that
i am being punished for other people's actions,
while they escape jailtime altogether..

..and other healthy thinking habits of
a similar caliber.

My cellie has just come into the cell,
and predictably wants to take a shit.

The door isn't locked,
it isn't close to lockdown.

I don't even bother to leave the room.

What the fuck is the point.

"The n****r who's shittin' don't give a fuck,
the n****r who ain't leavin' the room don't give
a fuck, nobody gives a fuck"

No shit.

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