a final letter from my cell

as i protest here in vain

my body doeth snow-angels in my own piss and shit

what a shame

wishing breathlessly for that little hamlet in the good of saint pete 

where I shall expire before the dawn

please explain the accusations to me mom 

so she shall cry out for me 

a thousand daggers of sorrow and not glee

and if we are so full of luck

plead no further for a thousand tomorrows 

among the pissiest and shittiest of muck