Man, I tried so hard, but can’t seem to get away from misery.
Man I tried so hard, but always b e a victim of these streets.
It ain’t my fault cause I try to get away but trouble follows me.
And still I try so hard, hopin one day they’ll come and rescue me.
- Bone Thugs N’ Harmony – “I Tried”
Sitting here at 10:45 p.m. with friends, or fiends. We were planning on writing a screenplay but not tonight. Unlike John’s unit, in mine you can stay out in the day room from 8:00 a.m. – 11:45 p.m. Sun-Thurs, 8:00 a.m. – 2:00 a.m. Fri-Sat. People play games, talk, watch one of the two tvs or make “hook ups” – basically home made meals.
My friend is going to find me a lady friend. I do get lonely & a little companionship on an intimate (not sexual) level is nice. I have been locked up for almost 6 years (8-2-07) and I miss the fun in talking to a woman on that level. I like to hear laughter, cries, stories, dreams, ambitions. One day I’ll be able to again.
I started writing poetry again. I’ll put one at the end of this entry. On a sad note – there is an old man. His cellie hit him today & he told the officers. They did nothing! Then another, younger man, is having psychological issues. He talked to the psych & basically they won’t do anything and pretty much told them that they’ll do something when he snaps, which will get him time in the hole. Then visits are over a tv…your in seg, family at visit watching you on tv talking over the phone. Not good. So they want you to think they treat us well in here…most don’t.
I shall close with a poem.
Designs: By George Webb, Jr.
The dog in my brain, plain, deranged, Me?
Please, I’m down on bended knee, promising, that it
ain’t me. Vouch for gas to start my brain. Grains of sand endorse my pain.
Numbing dreams, harass my pillow, willow, my tree, still low, under me,
Giant – like such.
Never drank much, but I do, you know, blue…bed.