THOUGHTS FROM THE OVERGROWTH

Just one last day

My mind knows i have a big trial today, last night was the same as any other yet a foul feeling grips me, loathsome as a leech. My thirst needed quenching and it's only a matter of time before it takes a hold of my senses, actions and my mind. I had no means of fulfilling indispensable needs as a subject, a piece of puzzle, a piece of coal on the fire; my thirst left me well and truly on the outskirts of what was acceptable but, more importantly, what was available; I simply wasn't ready to conform to an accepted normailty all abide by, and now it would appear I am ill.

The wood in here is like something i have never seen nor felt, yet it has more feeling than any other wood I have ever encountered. It cannot be a dream, dreams don't affect me, I simply don't believe in them, a revolutionist I'm not, a realist I am. I reach to loosen my tie, but I do not wear a tie, instead I undo the buttons on my shirt as I fall to the ground the world swirls all around me and just as I thought, the clouds are my adjucticator; cold concrete slabs the judge of my feet and I awake inside a room, a bed with linen, a pillow, a ceiling and a floor and a white nurse comes in to take away my black blood.

Words are spoken from men in suits; they ruffle their papers, they sip their water, and they earn their money. I don't swear upon the bible; I'll save that for someone who thinks it means something. As I step outside, the squelch of blood from my shoes seems to reverberate louder than ever, each night my blanket gets sorer and the constant bleeping of the machines interweaves with the crying, the moaning and the screams of the other rooms; taunting me that my time here is now indefinite, and I await the daily visit of the doctor.

Three men share the room, two of which glow ailing yellow and another too weak to walk, his only contribution to sound a loud shrill hiss of oxygen being pumped inside lifeless lungs. The seat in which i sit has been residence to murderers, rapists, child abusers, fraudsters and even lawyers, yet I feel more culpable than any of them. My eyes meet the eyes of the jury and begin to leak, rolling down my cheeks to quench a thirst that once overpowered me; a thirst that slowly vanished as appreciation of the time gripped me too late, and the body begins to spasm uncontrollably.