Every day like a prison inmate. I wake, rolling off of the mattress that prodded me in my sleep and feel my way to the toilet, lonesome all by itself without cabinetry or towels, no tooth brush, no sink. I wake up quick with the lack of life buzzing in my ear.

I travel to a place that's not much different from where I came, another cell but with bigger walls. I work on things that are not mine and can never be mine unless I figure some way to seal it.

I eat now, why I don't know because every piece feels jagged slipping down my throat. It tastes the way it looks, being about as appetizing as dog food.

After I shower in a five minute installment I make my way back to the stabbing of my mattress spring in the back.

Tomorrow, I get to do it all again.