a pair of fated, torn decisions
to abide within visions
of death displayed through premonitions
live life affected by the hindrance
or ignore its inhibitions
and trust my soul’s deliverance
Ideas of the afterlife, of death, become familiar companions in here.
I hate to admit
I fantasize about you at night
and unconsciously submit
to the breadth of your scythe
A fate worse than death, some may say.
administer a psychotropic
for the “dull” and “hopeless”
assuming they won’t notice
that time remains in motion
Dull the senses, correct the “chemical imbalances” and exercise control.
is it the fate of physiology
or the sore of the monotony
that keeps us living so halfheartedly
and perhaps it bolsters the economy
to sell us back to our own family
Don’t worry, we won’t take away your loved ones … for more than 20 cents a minute.
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.