Prison is a germ.
Infections and ****** hand towels,
place it over your mouth and breath.

He talked about a place and described the images he's seen.
Then he admitted he didn't think of me.
I've been ripped from his memory.

He cut me out with their dulling scalpels.
He poured liquor over the wound and
he stitched it at the seams.

I've dream't of a father,
sons and ghosts; it's all the same to me.
I've been scrubbing your genes off my skin,
it's the only way to stay clean.