Because i use Spell Check. I know it's Colours.

Even though your fingers are clasped around mine
you're being pulled away and i can see you above me as i fall..

Paper thin streaks of light mark the distance between us
and the once fresh image of your face starts to blur,
colors melt into one another and the sound of your voice
becomes more and more distorted as if I'm underwater
and you're far in the distance..

Mundane colors rush above my head,
colorful garments are replaced with jailhouse issue browns and greys,
trees, familiar faces and meaningful time spent with people i pine for
degreases into the present..

Reality.

It is time to start another day..

I try in vain to regain entry into last nights little episode of freedom but
after a few ten minute clusters of uncomfortable positions i can't do it,
there's too many thoughts running through my mind and it smells in here,
it's best i get up before i the deafening ring of Last Call for breakfast rings
through the unit..

For whatever reason he deemed justifiable,
my guess is a hybrid of being born with a microscopic penis
and an extreme dosage of ignorance towards the human beings
he is paid to keep in control, the man rudely declines my polite
request to get my brother a bowl of cereal and cake.

Reluctantly i return to my chamber one breakfast less than i had hoped,
it's strangely vacant in here and considering two minutes ago there was
a bunk bed filled with a mass of Boog that purely stank the room out..

I'm confused.

I initiate my investigation as to where my brother has gone by
softly placing a full and empty plastic bowl onto a towel covered table,
it doesn't go far as a rustling of coffee bags gives him away..

He was hiding in the corner of the room.

He does this often.

For no particular reason.

After i voice my surprise at his Houdini-esque prowess,
in the form of complimenting him on his female genitalia
and bacterial scented morning breath, i get a reply that
details why my face, currently clad in a rather long beard,
resembles a prostitutes used vagina that has violently
been forced through the menopause..

The earliness of the day cuts it short as many men
are sleeping and i want to take advantage of this by
skipping the computer line.

I want to see if anyone is checking for me..

Incase you ever want to ask me, even though I'd still like it if you did,
my breakfast are pretty predictable in here. Options are limited and even
though i like to think of myself as a moderately creative individual,
it's not going to vary that much.

For the blessed people of the street there is a little bit more on offer,
fruits, breaded goods, genitalia, anything you can imagine really,
as i enjoy hearing what normal people do each day i like to take the
time to ask specific people how they have started their day.

So i sent an email to someone asking what they had for breakfast.

Hopefully I'll hear back from them in the next couple of hours
and considering this mornings pickings of breakfast emails is slim,
it's back to the freshly aired-out cell for a cup of coffee..

One of my kind friends in Brighton sent me a couple of quid recently
and i spent it on some French Vanilla Creamer and Cocoa and Spearmints
so with a little twist of the wrist i made an exceptionally fruity cup of
coffee and sat back on my bed, mug in hand, throwing an occasional
glance out the window to the people walking below..

Today should be good.

I have a lot to do.