When I used to rage, a dog at my throat, chewing. I could feel that consumption. The cracking of muscle. Slopping of fat. Whether human, object or even air, I was launched. Friend or foe. Lover, family, best friend. My rage. How to explain?Regret sorrow, the endless sadness. This is not attempt of pity pot – this was the way of my life. My control. My anger. Now as that dog leaps, a simple no & the disgusting dance evaporates. A ton of thoughts shower of emotion. & the understanding of. To be believed or not, this was never about the assault of a child. It was just another of my steps over that line. To challenge. To upset. To lash out. Self destruct. & so prison.
The happy home of the most fucked up. Not necessarily the crimes. Oh sure, some real issues. It’s the dealing of. The admitting to. The “this is who/what I am”. Not a badge. An admittance. I am & have been a criminal. Not so much of committing crimes but attitude of. Behavior of. My middle finger proceeds me. Was it the way I was raised? That first beer. Death. The inconsistency of life. Why me & not you? Strange questions. I know there are those who know me & know I’m safe® here to a certain extent – yes. Am I some terrible terror? Of course not. I love the individuals & I hate the society. Those who “know” me know there are no limits (well, obviously some). Where is this coming from? Well it’s what I fight – I want to be part of and to a certain extent I am. But I have to be honest. With the exceptions of those in my heart (you know who you are), this life in here is nothing. The handcuffs. The cells. The showers, food, library. I know this is medium but even in max I relaxed. I am comfortable in my skin though it itches dog like, when I think of you. That’s the strange. The ironic part. Most guys hate it here & all they have is some family/friends, or, nothing. I don’t hate it. Here I am blessed with support – yes even as the letters drop off & the promises of $ or more letters fail as that finger rises to the horizon, I whisper to myself “another day closer to home”.
There is no denying I am a selfish man. I turned my back on true solid love & allowed my anger – sadness- my comfortable rebellion, to ride shotgun. I know you’re expecting a different John. No, just a better driver. Elaine E. reminded me of Genet, though never far from the brain or heart, - that reminder spanked. So I’m reading The Declared Enemy & wonder to myself – a society that seems to sleep with n o anxiety is truly dishonest and so wrong. When he writes of the rights of blacks, queers or Palestines in the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s, I reply – My God! Are we ever going to grow up? We can’t handle the idea of a woman for president or a black man? The fact that that the vile term is used/allowed – “race card” – fuck it.
Accept the responsibility Amerika. We’re racist-sexist-homophobes – what is different angers us. We use God, facts & figures to promote and to justify. No. No more Stop right now. Listen to the politicians voices – what they say they believe in. Fuck the crotch & ignore the skin. Allow another Bush? Are you serious? Get some balls, some strength & fight. Fight for this country before it’s too late.
We have hated too long. I live in a house of hate. Of confusion. Of sadness. My God, think of your children. Their children. No more. Please no more.