Penitentiary filled with blacks
Crooks on cracks
Pills,needles taped with ducts
Life on smack
Blood shot eyes running nose and popping eyes
Cracking lips with oozing blood and saliva
The levitation is concise
But my terms long to cease

A fallacious adrenaline running through my veins
Dragging my pale heart to fuse
Forever taunting my sanity
Enticing into sober of things

The fade of my chastity
Caged my conscience from creativity
Confined in a penitentiary ****** ward
Under guard blabbering alien words
Drugged from hostility for my feeble mobility

Beyond the walls laid hope
Only if my term cease or hop
And my savager enveloped and mailed away
Degenerating the ethical morals
A stitch in time could have saved nine

This desert, dry as my lips, as my eyes
Which shed no tears.

This pale sheet of barren hell,
The voice of isolation.
Far, these days, from heaven.

I take a long drink, perhaps my last
Not to quench my own thirst,
Drawn from my own mouth.
But, to cure the insatiable thirst
That was my Father's.

Which has grown fiendishly in me.

But I drink, and I know
And I loathe, twisting
Myself into something mean,
Bitter and wrong.

I own this beast
I know his name
I curse my father
I devour his shame.

Though most of all, I walk forward,
Never averting horizon's gaze.