Chin up

Things get better.


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.

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