posted on Jul, 21 2012 @ 01:45 PM
Death in prison is alot worse than the cold needle.
I cant imagine being confined for the rest of my life.
In the Jardin des Plantes, Paris
His gaze those bars keep passing is so misted
with tiredness, it can take in nothing more.
He feels as though a thousand bars existed,
and no more world beyond them before.
Those supply-powerful paddings, turning there
in the tiniest of circles, well might be
the dance of forces round a center where
some mighty will stands paralyticly.
Just now and then the pupil's noiseless shutter
is lifted.— Then an image will indart,
down through the limbs' intensive stillness flutter,
and end its being in the heart.
J. B. Leishman "