I didn’t know what happen to me.  How I came to such a feverish place.  But I will write, though, to keep my sanity.  Because you can so easily lose it in this place, where the mad mourn and cry for the injustice.  Where I sit and wade out my days.  It is so, so very easy to die here, without a tear or anyone to miss me.  Truly!  Truly this is what a devil-man wants; an evil ending to my very life so that, that evil can consume me. But I won’t and will not because I will write.  I will write on this miserable piece of toilet paper.  This is not the ramblings of a mad monster, but a plea and words of an entrapped human.  They still scream, the wall echoes their much shrilled voices.  They call for the “warden” to “let them out!”  But these cries fall on false ears and mad minds.  No one hears them.  For so many nights and days, I have laid in my own filth, using them as sinful warmth.  I have been driven, driven to an animal state.