POINT OF CORRECTION

Picture courtesy www.cpaulphotography.com


Cracks
Crevices
Flaky paint
Walls without the
Least bit of humour,
Suckling twins,
Remorse and the lack of it
For as long as the beginning
Of crime.


A lonely window
Above breathing level,
Perched in a manner
Such that fresh air rarely
Manages sneak in on
Countless attempts,
Reminiscent of one with itchy
Palms threading a needle.


One way in,
One way out,
Still in employ,
A mean looking rusty
Gate with shifty eyes
Empty smiles and
Gruff mannerisms,
Dreams of early retirement
A distant memory.
Hinges starved for oil
Nursing ulcers of yesteryears
Attired in fancy cobwebs of today.


Bed so uncomfortable
The word comfortable
Sounds very uncomfortable,
Prime lodging for crooked minds
And those with warped ways,
A place where some are
Put to pasture,
And others,
Given the chance to do it all over again.