before i had a bad bag
when the man had yet to press
eyes hovering invisible
vim and vigor
sugar flour
when something could be done
within one day
dawn of conscious
sleeping ego
mind unrehearsed
hope imagined
freedom , a feeling
crawling between the bars
when death was a funeral
when misery was physical
when pain was a state of mind
penned in paint
above the grate
aliens
looking up
into the dusk
im still waiting