Monday, November 14, 2011


Night falls and the wailing shrieks of the caged beasts begin to burrow at my sanity. Chants, nonsense, entertainment turned machine gun funk. Dropped boxer’d slap fighters are calling the new boy a pussy and condemning him for ignoring them. Today, he slept the day away.

But sleep is the enemy, our cousin of death that’s chasing our nightmares into the front of our mind usually reserved for our views and beliefs from the real world.

Harsh is the environment never making sense, we jail ourselves, we prejudge the world. They scream pussy in unison, wrestle in their boxers, dance with no music, slap box at midnight, shower together in a long team effort stall, masturbate next to each other in the bathroom stalls, groom each other, but deny this new boy a bed for being obvious about liking the touch of another man.

He is the first gay inmate I have had come across my path.

They refuse him bunks, ridicule him immediately. He can probably take most of them, probably been fighting his own war for some times now. Must be hardened at this point in his life, he would have had to just to survive as himself. That would explain his over confidence. It’s killing me to see this. I want to offer him a bed, but I would be wrapped into the fight.

Is this wrong of me? Is self preservation more important than generosity?

Shit, this is jail, I just had to fight my own battles in here a few times over… yet my intuition screams action at all costs…

I don’t need the hardships right now, sorry friend. Will not deny him if he approaches though, I will not be them. I am just in no position to help. He must arm himself. This is war, war is hell. Jail is all the devil’s fantasies, the debasing of god’s creation.

Wonder what he did? Probably drugs, damn commonwealth.

My Mexican buddy Javier, who sleeps in the bunk above me, is on his last few days, but it’s already nightfall and he is no closer to his wife right now than when he was when he entered this god forsaken shithole. At the end of the day we all sleep alone in here.

Missing the touch of a woman in here is enough to cause hallucinations. No nurture for the unhuman, no affection, no contact save a speeding fist. They stole a piece of me when they separated me from the touch of my better half.

I miss the caress so much that it wanders into my dreams every so often. They can never rob me of my memories. Months and years are long stretches of time though and they are infinitely lengthened because of longing.

The TV runs constant to keep people from dwelling too much in their sorrow; it only goes off because the devil grants me mercy after midnight. I spend my time watching, writing, reading or swimming in the depths of memory. The latter less than the others unless smoking pages under this little pen of mine because the pain would be too unbearable.

From time to time, you can steal a view of the beast with his mask down, merely a child without direction in a world of advertisements for a downfall, a world of perpetual glowing night. Those eyes will haunt my memory, desperate, hopeless. This can only birth the rage of unreason, well… it will mainly do so.

There will be a few among the many that will fight against this urge, he will work out just to release, he will punch only walls and they will crack under his John Henry hammer for that steamed machine we call home cannot hit back when under the arms of my brothers .

We need more legends in our present, less gilded fairy tales.

They are born unknown daily, they will be forever young, suspended in their fight through all of time so our children can burn candles for the dead so as to illuminate their children’s future. We must find the spot where truth echoes through the corridors of space and time. We must have tea parties with more Hawking to underestimate the touch of man onto the universe.

As I write he watches alone and cautious. They would not hate him if they did not fear what he represents. He has an uphill battle ahead of him but he already knows this I’m sure and is at the very least ready to take on what time will hand him.

Javier and I notice the steely stare of that boy on his own in this world of metal and rage. His arms are behind his head, his eyes are fixed on the bunk above his. The c.o.’s finally assigned him a bunk.

Basketball horns blare from the screen, snack are consumed, slap boxing continues, segregation of all things different ensues, collect calls are made, secret tears are hidden under covers and I’m in deep up to my chin with a horrible, itchy wool blanket.

It is not unusual to wake up in the middle of the night and catch the soft weeps of boys fronting as warriors. Even the soldier must understand when to be human again.

There is a defiant grimace on our flamboyant hero right now, I think he’s finally convinced himself that he’s got this.

I want to trust his expression. I want to believe that beneath his perfectly styled hi-top lies a mountain of a mind and persona that has no doubt in its ability to handle all that is about to come it’s way. It is the lone lion that sleeps ready to defend himself at all times.

Just a few beds away I can hear the smirking chatter of a group that has prided themselves in disruption and injustice. They are talking about him, planning all the ways they’re going to get this kid. While he’s showering, while he’s asleep, when he gets in line to go to lunch, during shift change… all that I can hear in my mind is this right now. I cannot lift my attention anywhere but their voices that echo with malice and ignorance. In a time that we should all huddle together for strength, the only conferences being called are for violence and the repetition of all that has put this population here in the first place.

If they were to follow up on their threats, I would probably lose all sense of pragmatic thought. I would be forced to get between them, fight against that which I hate in this world more than anything else because it is what I’m most scared of. Ignorance has scarred us all and threatens to kill right under our noses.

Well I can’t do it anymore… if they want him I’ll have to stand or risk being haunted with his face for the rest of my life, more so than I already will be. This is not what I want right now, I’m scared… so fucking scared, confused and hurt but I can’t let this happen.

Please god, get me away from this place, I’ve seen enough!

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