🔵 By Daniel Broome. Photo by lauragrafie.
In the hole again. Won’t say why, use your imagination. So I guess I get to think again. It’s like a short (or long, don’t know yet) reprieve from the monotony. I get to scale the depths and the shallows of my thoughts, without the up and down emotional termoilous logo of the prison group. I’ve also given up letters to home, when it all quit existing in my dreams, ‘alone’ is not the same thing anymore, actually, I’m never alone since I’m not possessed by anything anymore to long for to feel alone about. “Home is where the heart is” can only make sense to me… since it’s only me at home, in my heart.
To think of all the extra weight I shed from my consciousness, all the time I spent lost to thinks in myself, and coming into sequentially the thought-after-thoughts of things that can only matter; and nowhere to carry it. So I carry it here. You can’t give what you’ve gained to the termoilous, not until they know its journey, cause it’s gonna be consumed. So there’s a part of you who stays quiet. The part that doesn’t stay quiet is inside of you, vehemently seeking to break this pot for a garden, or shit, throw me in the ocean, anywhere but the dried leaves encircling me! He he. Brothers are on the run, sisters are out there enslaving a man’s world – probably tracking the whip to the man’s hand for a little fun… and postage, still under a dollar. But I got new tattoos …
I used butter as hair conditioner yesterday. It doesn’t work. Guar searched my cell where I had it hidden and stuck her finger in it. I win. “You don’t wanna know what I use that for” I wink to the one that’s holding me in cuffs outside the cell…
I do have a release date, some don’t have one of those. And I have no idea of some of the things that are going on out there – how do you ask a girl out? In text? Do I gotta get a typewriter to go on a date? “Hebllo, do ylou like toe eat? I whave two gift cards too Olxive Gradenn, bbring a big purse.” Cause I mean I’ll do it.
But there is a ba-zillion things going on out there. I do get out, some day, and you can only gratify it with “hope” for there to be any expectations, that someone will care long enough to walk you through the “challenges” you’ll be facing, at the same time not totally grasping how strange things are; and one may not even have hope for that, lol therefore “low” expectations even fail to exist. Well. I’m not gonna get there pondering… here’s to brutally smashing my head through walls. Again.
I do know, if I wanna swim, find a pool, get down to my Dun-Fa-Dfa’s and get in. but people call the cops… “Officer, go ahead and call EMS, check my vitals, I was having a heat stroke. Promise.” By the time he figures out who I am when he runs my name, he’ll have the goon squad called to run a full investigation, and surely there’ll be some cell phone footage of me, probably dancing, maybe showing off my karate moves (the WORLD is your Dojo), by which time (you think he’s got me booked?) I get to PROVE it, wuz heat stroke, cause ain’t nobody gonna be doing those things without the sunny encouragement (but I’ll probably get a free breath test – “told you officers, always minty fresh!” KARATE CHOP!