Catch 22

A noose on the neck, a gram on the foil

Devil’s caramel, a light brown soil

The heroin of the story, a frightening tale

Sweat on the forehead, extremely pale

Fifty per cent, that he’ll die

His last supper, a bit of a fry

A puddle on the floor, a flat with no heating

Ironically, next door to a NA meeting

A lighter strike and the beetle takes off

Holden’ it in, trying not to cough

Running like a pair of Nike Air Max

Three sixties and no tracks

The sickness gone, a hit creeps in

Life on the foil

He takes on the chin

Catch 22, he can never win.

HMP Magilligan

2nd Prize Poetry Getting Started, Listowel Writing in Prison Awards, 2020

Anthology- Going Equipped with a Pen
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