The language in prison is unlike anything spoken anywhere else. Movies don’t really convey how unique it is on its own, despite it’s similarity to black vernacular. It’s decipherable to outsiders but many terms don’t make much sense until you experience it up close.
One term thrown around a lot is “burnt,” which basically describes someone whose extended time in prison has rendered them institutionalized, perhaps forever, and incompatible with the real world because they’ve picked up all these antisocial traits. They’re a fucking bug, in the simplest terms. You’ll have at least one in any cube; I’ve two.
The one has been down for so long (30 years, but if I sad that, he’d correct me. “31 years”–and he wants credit for every single one) that the system has just chewed him up and spit him out, completely useless to society. Doesn’t shower much, always wears pajamas under his blues, horrible on the boy tip, and sounds like a functioning retard. Listen to him ramble for 5 minutes, and he’ll invariably bring up some giant crack rock he smoked 40 years ago that’s blown his wig back to this day.
Burnt comes in different varieties. Another common burnt trait: extreme pettiness. Like wanting to stab over a few soups or a dollar. Not even if it was just a dollar, but getting $19 on a $20 tab and still tripping. Worse, it’s always just hot air. They’ll fuss and fume and feint like they’re grabbing a knife from their homeboys, but never do anything but cry. You almost wanna give them a hug and tell them it’s unfair they weren’t loved as a child and everything’s gonna be okay.