Tuesday, January 17, 2006

Prison 3

I must have dozed off for a couple of minutes but is hard to tell. They have taken away my watch along with every other single item I had on me this morning. The scant light that enters via the grate is refracted and insipid and gives me no clue as to what time it is.
I am starting to feel quite hungry but burry the sensation quickly as I have no idea if and when they will feed me. I desperately want a cigarette but they have been taken from me as well. I get angry. I kick the door hard and am greeted by a dull metal thud. I throw myself against the door and still it barely moves. I punch the warm metal plate repeatedly, first with my open palms and then with my clenched fists. The skin on my knuckles start to split and pearls of crimson blood spatter on the smooth surface and run down my wrists. I make no noise, simply stand there, legs apart, pounding the metal door with my bloodied fists over and over again consumed by a bleak and resentful anger.


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