Okay, “Karma Death.”
What does it all mean, this life in my karma death?
The [inaudible] last night, must have been like a bomb, so loud it was silent. Everyone ran but me. I heard later the whole wall could have shattered. I stood there, watching the panic, rolling a cigarette. It didn’t matter. It was my karma death.
Why aren’t you writing? I have nothing to write, nothing to say. Over ten years of this life has been wasted. My karma death.
I want to tell someone, some lady, I love her—not to get sex, but just because I do. No reasons, no conditions, for there is just being and natural love. My karma death.
I came here today to perhaps share a few tears together, a poem or two, but it didn’t work out, so I just walked away towards my karma death.
These commentaries are recorded by Prison Radio.
