Glass (Crank 2)

Dead, instead of running from

the demons. Demons, rampant

in this Godless place.

The Officers on Duty

Do keep an eye on things.

But they don’t exactly

come rushing to my rescue.

Don’t worry. You’ll survive,

says one, a woman about

the size of a steer.

Frigging tweakers are all

alike.

Whiners. Sweat that

shit out of your system,

you’ll be good as new, ’cept

for lacking a few brain cells.

You wanna see ugly, watch

a wino in lockup, fighting

d.t.’s. Oh, mama, now that

is some scary shit.

I’ve heard hard-core alkies

can die without booze. That

they bring ’em fixes, so they

don’t croak in custody. I call

that out-and-out prejudice.

Injustice. Maybe I should sue.

I Don’t See Trey

Until the arraignment.

We share the defendants’ table,

the public defender who stands