From behind my prison bars, I have seen the world pass by, unable to move enough to stretch out my frail legs have began to look like bone. I have seen many a man walk down hells corridor but have yet to see one walk back up. Nobody escapes here. This room is made for one. One half the size of me in fact. The rusted cast iron bars are a great contrast to the beautiful world outside. The lime green fields with a sparkle that could blind a man when rain lands upon the blades. It’s enough to kill a man internally.

From my bars I’m am treat with meals. I am treat with oats and sometimes meats. No flavour is a prison policy and no colours inside the cell. Everything is white, black or grey. So when we receive a blood filled club of meat the red is a reward.

304 days Iv spent like this. 304 days of of mind altering torture. But today, today has been entertaining for a man with no mind. The man across from me has died. A slow death. A death of malnutrition. His body, well it has not been disposed of. It has been hung as a declaration. Of the only escape from this place. I see myself in his body. I see my frail bones one week away from his. In a race I cannot win but destined to finish. I don’t know wether I should be laughing or not, but there is a home like feeling to these flys swatting me.