Prison Radio Audio Feed

Dear controller of my days, I want to be you, earning the inalienable right to rule over the stooped women of waywardness. My desire is to have my polyester pants weighted down by the keys that secure each cell door. I wish to rule what's behind each one of them and have no clue to what key goes to what door. I want to laugh about that, with the captives, a dream of setting the tone at 6:00 AM for the offenders by refusing to answer simple questions, slamming doors, or glaring at them. My mood would make or break their day. I want your right. I'd feel enlivened having inmates clear a path for my presence without me uttering a word. Behind my booming voice, I would observe these same women keep lowered gazing while jerking, recoiling, and scurrying out of my way. Every day, I sit for many hours, but run to protect my power from the danger of a 90 pound, detoxing,  depressed female's fingernails. I want the constitutional right to look down on those that put themselves there. I want your innocence. I wish to sl