BluesPoetry

BluesPoetry

Jail time #3

long periods of silence mixed with restless thinking
not being able to shut the mind off
constant ramblings of nothing
wanting to take care of things not under my control
constant headache from the depressing thoughts
problem with the car-money-lawyers-kids-moving-anger over the fix I'm in
moving forward but stuck in nuetral
body aches-needing massages
needing to talk to someone about anything
missing Katie-missing Pearl
she probably thinks I have abandoned her
shitty food-horrible coffee-dirty socks- missing Aramis's football game
where to move to or away from
when and how-homeless-jail-hell
bright lights in this cell this claustraphobic pit
sick to my stomach acid feeling in my gut
how did I get in this place in my life
stupid little pen to write with
achy body
I want out can't sleep-silent screeming in my brain
only one hour out a day to shower then walk 51 steps around the area
this is crazy or am I crazy
fuck me when am I getting out
thank god it's only 96 fours
no more of this shit
evening event over just like breakfast and lunch
never again-51 steps
yellow curtard and mystery meat
food is getting worse the longer I am here
swapping food- they even finish other's plates
showers are the best event in the day with it's Maximum Security shampoo
along with the hour out of this locked cell
time justs stands still
day three with no end of the depression
my meds are not allowed that would allow me the sleep sustained all night long
sleeping in spurts of 15-20 minutes then to rise and read more of a dull book
beds that are so hard like concret they are prohibiting rest
bones creak and ache with arthritic feeling of guilt of some crime
back to reading-book two
teeth go to hell in jail with the short handled brushes and Maximum Security toothpaste
no relaxing even though there is no work to do
what a waste of a good time no motovation to really write just ramblings of boredom
depression? am I really where? it's got to end soon
quit belly aching it's only 96 hours not 96 months or 96 years
96 tear drops of Smokey's song
I'd go crazy or maybe I am already
my new celly is a 5 time loser working on #6
could go down for the big one-habitual criminal rap
big arms and torso full of tats
pacing back in forth in a cell not made for two
nuetrotic man making me nervious
rumble on lifer
I got the call I'm getting out
Man this jail shit is just a piece of cake
bring it on man, bring it on