It's late, or early into the new day.
The days and nights drag by like molasses in January
Because I'm aware if time itself
And other cellmates are still talking
Loudly, neither knowing or caring
They keep others from numbing sleep
They talk of inconsequential matters
Just to hear themselves speaking with
Varying kinds of emotion, recreating
Idiotic scenes from their crimes or
Lackluster lives and how they
Plan to do things differently when
They get out, how they've been screwed
And how much money they're gonna get
And how they're gonna screw the guys
That screwed them... They replay their
Immediate pasts and wished for futures
As if they might just disappear if they
Were to stop talking, as if their
Very existance depended on keeping
Their mouths open to let out more words
And here I am reading a novel
In poor light, trying to get tired enough
To just lay down my head on the makeshift
Pillow of clothes stuffed with a t shirt
So I can reach that one place of escape
Open to a jail bird, soothing sleep.

John Patrick Liteky, #83275-020, Cell C-3
Crisp Co. Jail - 197 Hwy 300 S - Cordele, GA 31015