Last Entry On Exit

The deep recess was hollow, nothing was there -- no blood, no air, nothing -- an abandoned chamber for the soul, walls charred from a conflagration of immense intensity, the sound of tears could be heard from throats echoing from ages unknown, fear and folly, a bottomless inertia with but a slight sliver of light of above, I froze with no eyes in silence.

On the eve of Christmas Eve the old man sat at his desk listening to the rain with the windows all boarded shut his dying dog on the floor before him as he wrote a simple song for the occasion and tore it to shreds in despair.

Christmas dinner shoved through a slot under the door head shaved clean cold bars yesterday’s deadman’s cell now holds black rapist’s white boy punk whore.