Insanity hath no rest upon me.
Does my current grasp the scent of wrongness?
Lack of control surely is my demise.
Snakes slide and slither in circles with hiss.
Be banished ye serpents! I see as traits.
My chemistry is outlandish, help me.
I can find no balance in my tumble.
It is misery to feel this discreet.
For a second the days sun brings good joy.
For a year decades pounce me thunderstorms.
The says sun comes quick and makes a half smile.
Then my own snakes, so lustful, find dreams torn.
‘Freedom oh freedom’, your sweetness lurks me.
A lovely strawberry; rotton, I eat.
Harold Sanford Carter III
Maine State Prison