Vanity. Ares

Around those times my will to live
concaved: I had no more will to continue, will for
any sort of beauty, will for music, will to fight,
will to desire or will to dream. Yes my will to live
was reducing just as quickly as the nights
accumulated and I was less and less able to brush
away the nights and their lingerings. It was sat
being interviewed by fat PC Josef that a feeling of
nausea began to set in and beyond that other
feelings and thoughts occurred through this
kaleidoscope. Although, I sometimes thought of
perhaps a Burrito or maybe a woman, but after
this point, whilst looking at the double chin on
PC Josef, each of my thoughts felt mired in the
wasteland of this nausea. As I sat I did muse that
the last time I was with someone in a sexual act
was that of which I would have loved to forget.
But, these thoughts persisted, and I saw images of
Myra's face as I was escorted back to my cell,
alone: standing, sitting, and sometimes I did not
feel like doing either of these things and would in
turn be in a crises, as initially there was no
alternative action. In my prison cell, I thought a
lot about how normal people lived, but realised
that I had never bared witness to this norm, as
since birth I have known strife, trouble, moving
and procedures. Of course procedures were my
least favoured of these activities.
Every day I had an hour a day to walk
around outside in the yard, in the beginning I
rarely enjoyed this time: I felt that the other
inmates had seemingly so much more fervour for
the lifestyle of Prison, as I saw them running,
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