Things get better.
9/6/2019
Let me kiss your dopamine
Let me show you what I’ve been
What I’ve done and what I’ve become
In the furnace of foulness
The fucked up fun house
Much time was wasted
Stressed and depressed
In maximum security
With two dozen different cellmates
Thieves, woman bashers, derelicts
And one or two that
Without hesitation
I would call a mate
Fast forward two years
And I’m starting to work
Writing, education, reading
But still everyday was a symphony of suffering
Throw in some contraband, a guitar and a prison job
A cell of my own in minimum security
And all the peace and quiet
You could ever hope for
And now things are changing
I’m back stronger than ever
The battle I fought to keep my chin up
Is nearly won
Someday I’ll tell the world the whole story
Of how I survived jail
With my soul in tact
And then never speak of it again
—
One aspect of jail that takes some of the sting out of the whole thing is that it gets easier the longer you’re in. The first two years were hell; I was suffering deeply, but as things went along it got a lot more liveable. Towards the end I had my own cell, a radio , a guitar and a computer with email and a few quite enjoyable games. I got a lot more disciplined and proactive and started using my time constructively.
There’s something to be said about an ego earned through hard work, I grew to be a lot more confident because I had done the hard work to improve my mind and body. Someday I’ll tell my story, truth be told I’ve written a book about the whole experience that I hope to publish.
Things get better.
