sojourn of the lonely soul

russlin' loose
 -or-
a death race

ensconced, my mind starts to fractal/fragment. i realize either i'm hallucinating
or

predicating, both viable options. under my dire circumstances, i reason the ladder is

the way to go: literally. i choose to screw reason and start to climb the rocks

encompassing my cell. this place is more conflicted/complex than i imagined; it was

clear in its dank symbolism that it was madness; more emphasis on the 'mad'.

entranced, my body begins to articulate the situation i'm currently experiencing; no

mirage, but simply a matter of conviction. this is a journey of confliction, a paradox

that lies outside the box. sleep wasn't an option, nor a dispersion: in fact it was not a

viable option. i meditated while i still climbed...