swollen shoulders

It was cold when i woke up today..
The air conditioning doesn't turn on til the early hours,
most days when i wake up it's fuckin cold in the cell..
My toes felt like icicles..
It makes sense to sleep facing the door.
Go figure..
Most the man dem are on
the tier this morning though..
I'm safe..
I pull my crusty quilt across a very tired, swollen
pair of shoulders, turn over and
gaze out the window..
It's grey..
Wet..
Miserable..
Reminds me of London!
(in a good way)
I'm half asleep..
Thoughts are drifting in and out
of my head with relative ease..
What to do today..
Work out?
Roof?
Sketch?
Jerk?
..I recognise one of the civillians below..



Strutting next to her attorney,
she crosses the street below, pulls out a cigarette,
then quickly scuttles out of sight..



It's been almost a year since i've seen her..
I'm pretty high up..
You can't get a particularly good look
at someone's face from up here..
Yet from the way she shook her lighter,
to the swing of her arms as she walked,
i knew it was her from a mile away..
 Peering out of my cell at the shiny wet street beneath me,
watching this person casually stroll past the building her
husband is temporarily imprisoned in, without a care in the world,
was a well needed reality check for Timmyboy..
This was not the girl i happily married at City Hall,
nor was it the wife who promised to stand by me
throughout this ordeal..
"Timdog, my n****r, it ain't a matter of right or wrong,
it's about decisions people gotta live with.."
I hear that..



Time to work out..