Bitch, You’re In Prison- Aurora Phoenix

Aurora Phoenix etches truth in blood.

Blood Into Ink

woman_in_victorian_dress_imprisoned_in_a_dungeon_by_black_bl00d-das2t48

they said

bitch, you’re in prison

as if

this most salient of facts

jump-suited in sallowing orange

had, even for a moment

escaped my attention

in situation inescapable,

conferring status inhuman.

they snarled

bitch, you’re in prison

when I dared suggest,

with temerity

unbefitting caged station,

conversational decorum

contravening jailhouse crudity,

because after all

what do you expect here?

they scoffed

bitch, you’re in prison

when I longed

for scintillating discourse

or cerebral stimulation

in lieu of

drama-mongering gossip

and mind-numbing TV,

indicative that jello-brain

is indeed the goal.

they guffawed

bitch, you’re in prison

when I scribbled

angsted dreams

upon torn paper scraps

quilled with the clots

of my spurting soul,

mocking the futility

of artistic aspirations.

they assert

bitch, you’re in prison

social stratus

lower than dirt

on a slithering snake belly,

cessation of upward mobility

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