Hungry so feed me
forcing peas
cigarettes
thankful for whatever
comes these days
well, brittle skinned
black and bruised
pieces of my palm
are pointing my fingers
and dabbing my prints
into diesel ink
for a measily sip
from the gauntlet's rim,
circumference is grim

Prison breaks
these days--
bumming a drag
and humming a tune
while the cool blue
sky reminds you,
you're alive,
so exhale for a while.