The Prisoner

He wears an open mind
Like barbed wire
Thoughts pricked
Circling
A championship stance ready
Out waiting the gait  
To un click and spring open
Hurled and pounced
Flat and broken  
Mind bugging slaughter house failure
Jock boy twisted  
And gangsta leaned
New swaggering fueled
Ill intent  
Trades mind set
For black heart  
Clank
Downed iron walls  
Downed time  
And street apprenticeship  
All bared bones  
And ivory closure
All turkey and no jive
Calls himself sweet feet  
In the canteen line
Mood fine seemingly  
But in the letter
An I miss you baby
Hold me down he begs
The phone line is long
But hear me calling
I never did  
She fails to see
The barbed wire  
Had sealed his fate
Thorny sting  
And a Mother gone
To too much  
His life had been never enough
But excess  
Of pseudo freedom
Piles of postcards  
And unused stamps  
Delivered
No where special
Days and days of trailer park revival  
And pressing a bunk
calamity’s currency  
Provides peanuts for clamshells  
Steamy art
And shadowed textures
The tattoo gun sting
Provides your name  
On his ass
And whipped into fury  
By slow trickled tepid shower
Regret slowly smirks his frown
His assault on liberty  
Bloodies his fist
Full contact sport
With solid walls  
Exhausted by the effort  
No strike will un loose them
He has lost so much
To permanent hold