The River

To maintain some semblance of purpose and sanity behind prison walls
I have become samurai in my approach, monastic in my needs
To bury my head is to succumb
So I stare into the cold sterile face of my captors.
A harsh reality avoided is an oppritunity lost.
Into the blurred lines between night and day I wade,
Strung out on instant coffee and fury.
Paranoia and alterior motives move freely from cell to cell.
Humanity's long dead ritual of survival of the fittest,
Brought back to life.
The ancient dance plays out behind the razor wire.
There is a purity to the savage acts that unfold.
Cause and effect.
Barbarism that is understood.
These unspoken laws, more intimately tied to justice than those of a so called civilized society.
The throw away souls of a nation.
Left to fend for themselves.
Left...to build something new or wither and die.
We do both.
A school for gladiators to sharpen their steel against flesh and bone.
The survivors, hardened and cold.
Behind these walls, society's trash festers.
Dumped upstream, to eventually return on the current.
The discarded find their revenge in the distended bellies of those who eat from the river..
A justice truly poetic in nature eventually unfolds behind these walls.