administrative segregation

i'm ol school
 with mediocre give a shit
 as long as i'm getting paid
like rear windows that only roll halfway down
 
prison politics
 seems to be the only way
 to play this schizophrenia  
dead man walking
 
selling off parcels of land to keep nobles alive
 while paupers prosper
 in nearby cell blocks
 
the desire to take the song anywhere
 besides the burn barrel or corner store
 is an expectant father hoping to have a daughter
just so he can fuck her
 
whiskey and swamp chronic in the drawer of my writing desk
the dramamine before every evening's trip to six flags
high hopes
 that this pen will always meet the height requirement
and never get a racist tattoo  
in an effort to feel safe and be accepted
 
in this lengthy sentence
i keep
a cotton candy shank to ward off any solicitors
who may attempt to gauge the weight
of this failure's pride