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Photo by @Rafapress on Deposit Photos

2:30AM EST:
too damned early
and much too late
for anything sensible
to happen.
incandescent lights 
are burning brightly,
curtains are drawn 
open wide so that
the shame emitting 
from El Casa Blanca is
fully exposed. an electric 
orange-hued payaso,
disguised as a world leader,
sitting in an easy chair,
puts on a show with his 
stubby fingers.
he juggles words 
on iPhones and laptops.
hide the sharp objects,
the full-grown buffoon 
is wasting precious time. 
tweet after tweet after tweet,
sarcastically stupid spiels 
start surfacing 
in one-hundred-forty 
worthless, well-woven, 
worrisome characters: 
poppycock that takes 
two seconds to spell check. 
“F it, no one will notice,” 
he thinks to himself.
nobody monitors the jester,
nor sees the sinister smile
spread across his face.
proudly he embraces this fiasco
he’s labeled “his reign”
as the greatest lampoon ever.
the cutup presses send 
and the world is in awe.
the first act is over.
sadly, all the world is his stage.

Disclaimer: The views in this article are those of the author. Prison Journalism Project has verified the writer’s identity and basic facts such as the names of institutions mentioned.

Demetrice Crite is a writer incarcerated in Illinois. Born in Kentucky, he strives to tell the story of the past, present and future of prisons and prisoners. He also believes that his pen will one day free him.