CHRISTOPHER: I wrote this after the 2nd convict hung himself here on my pod in a month March-April 2010.
--I thought the daily cocktails were so suppose to help them cope with that anxiety`s..not coax them into freeing themselves from them...
--It`s clear what the penitentiary is for, ..to store and not restore,...on must do this himself...
--Rehabilitation`s a joke, cause who`s to say you were "-habilitated" in the first place, to be "re-" anything...
KAMIKAZE, COME FLY...
With right constantly upon me,
and days deigning no rays,
just say how shall I see,
if my scars did not guide the way...
My sky is overcast with pain
like skid marks in soiled draws, I`m stained,
soul and spirit attempt divide,
at war...where wind and wing collide
didn`t get the note I needed
though the days still come unheeded,
encouraged by an urge within,
to hide my hurt and not give in,
uncertain if the curtain is closed,
where the way is lost no one knows...
Searching past the vastest questions,
where from the blackness came a blessing,
addressed from where dilemmas stem,
always will life be filled with them,
lowered by the lingering things,
pacing as the pendulum swings
sneaking between my heart and mind
side by side yet too blind to find
the hostage on the horizon
a paralyzed sun tired of rising
Kamikaze com fly
let gravity deny
the weight of my sorrow
trying to mold my hopes,
against itself like ropes,
leaving my regret,
suspended in a twist...
with blemish blent to bliss