No Luck

No Luck 

solitary confinement 
my circle keeps shrinking
crawling smaller 
I’m a hole 
one tiny dot 
leftover black ink 
too wet to be imaginary 
reach through the bars 
if you don’t believe me 
no keys 
extra locks 
the punishment feels archaic
outdated 
this box is haunted 
blood in the attic 
rust under those floorboards 
I tried to patch myself up
with cigarettes
and scotch
inhaled deep
drank it down 
didn’t help
all I can do now is wait 
for someone to let me out

Fulfillment

Buckshot Chess