Obscured by Thought

It has been a month since I have last written anything and in this time there has only been work alongside of leisure generating a wayward station of stagnation, doubt, and the reconition of how finite my future is in this world. None these thing typcally bring joy, they only tend to bring a negative malaise that fits me like a second skin. In the days of long hangovers, little productivity, and a tightrope of wondering when my heart will give out; I can only lay in bed like some terminal patient following the arch of the sun across the horizon, on the sunny days at least and for the clouded days, twenty four hours sports channels and streaming movie sights bide my time, to destroy thought, contemplaton, analysis, and a journey down a path that only seems to run into more and more forks, circular turns, and dead ends. Grey hair on my head marks the sands of time, running thin, forming a vaccum that only increases in speed, a credit junkie, bound in chains, the latest prison sentence, ten years, everyday marked on a calender, think I am up to 70 days since the door was closed for the first time. No one person or being is keeping me under control and am free to leave at anytime, back to the streets, to the bars, to the women and binge like behavior of consuming.

This city has control over everyone in it, locked down till death to their part in keeping this monolith alive, this ragged corpse whose bones we scavenge to barely keep us fed, in constant competition for a prize that is never awarded unless you consider suicide some sort of positive affirmation. The only thing left is to go the workout yard during exercise hours, then either back to the cell or hopefully off to some state sponsored work, such as pleasing tourists, assisting the empty minded or developing new material for people like myself to watch in their cells during time off. The cell is all I know now, there use to be the world, a form of escape, a channel of hope to turn off my well engrained western cultural tendencies to buy t-shirts, drink excessively, and sponser leeches who have no intentions of ever returning my gracious generiosity, which is more than naive for my part, why think in a land of sharks, inhuman beasts, and weasel like sneaks that there would be anyone that contained strength, determination, and virtue to stand up again the metallic towers of the strips though possibly in defeat, to stand up nonetheless with shaking fists yelling " You will suck me into your dark cloud of 21st century slavery." My new goal is to not die here, die here before my time, from the excessive drugs to the inadequate sleep, seeing the sunrise, whether off to work or off to bed has been the fast track to insanity and the lunacy has been winning out lately, no more though, this is a death march through blood, bones, and the corpses of the captured, gates lay ahead and even as they appear to move farther away by the looks of my eyes, my heart knows soon enough I will scale those heights and leave everything about this city behind.