Enduring to Wait For Prison
How time marches on with the seasons, and this is a good one, where everything is dying and lying, and crying. The kind of pouting that a lollipop sucks a fat ball coated with bitter tasting syrup.
Mohammed is wound with a skein of frayed 900lb Dupont Kevlar rope free shipping from Amazon.
"Throw me a lifeline, buddy, will you please!" he cries.
"Twisted Kevlar fiber, we have cut the cord, it won't be long, the braid frayed, and the tension applied as a termination," the head cord cutter retorts. She's two women braided into one bad-ass social climber at the top of her game!
"PLEASE!" he yells, the echoes of despiration, he sweats with the stink of perspiration.
TIME CUT:
"Heah Warden, got time for some beat poetry?"
"What's wrong, soldier, the cord cutter waxing sentimental? Maybe another day. Your hour is up. Back to solitary."
Copyright Sage Sweetwater
