it was the harbinger of things to come. of course i had no idea about it then … early stirrings coincided with other shit and i still don’t recognise myself. now i’m starting to think maybe i never will
even though i’m quite the opposite i was deemed to be a high risk of some kind. not gonna lie the thought of sharing that suffocating enclosed space with someone else was probably a worse fate that the sensationalist over-reaction may have saved me from
left to my own devices i explored this new microcosm, all over the walls and the bunk beds … messages from remand prisoners and their accomplices boys on tour. little things that nobody painted over or replaced yet. it hadn’t occurred to me yet, neither. people spelling “ov” with a letter v like it meant something more sincere than when you tell people where you’re from in the free world
the flashback it echoes across many occasions, but one of them steers the rest
every time someone opened my door up it didn’t fuckin matter what they were coming for, it was a chance to breathe from that suffocating dungeon they just left me in
i’m still there, someone threw away the key. now i always will be
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