MY CONFESSION

Because I'm diluted,

perfectly flawed.

I shall live by passion

and not by law.

I lived by passion all my life and look where it got me. Stuck in some five by five cell with a bucket to piss in. Yes, a life short lived by passion will get you a one way ticket to the biggest max prison. Of course, no one is perfect and unflawed, especially not me. So now it's a life lived and survived by the fittest and the strongest. A life lived by one law only. Stay in the light. And in these cramped quarters everyone patience where's thin and mistakes happen, in a life filled with passion.

And I'm insecure...

I need aggression.

To feed the spiders

of perception.

Everyone in the prison is insecure, fragile, thinking they need to establish dominance, authority, and power. Which obviously is true, but they also have to do their time and pay their bit. Nursing the ones that made them a god. Feeding the rest to keep the silence. And keep the secrets of their weakness and their flaws. Feeding the ones who see all and know all. Luckily for me I don't have that problem. No one sees me. I have no one to feed.

And I'm supposed to

be strong

and have all the answers.

A cannibal in the

church of cancer.

When keeping face just isn't enough then inmates start to get physical and down right ugly. I for one, know from experience. It just wasn't enough to keep up this facade. Someone had to go and fuck with my mask. Questioning my strengths like I have all the answers. Testing my skill so they payed the price with their life. I hate this facade because I've forgotten what's fantasy and what's reality. There are others who have the same mask that isn't real. And everyone gets delusional and think their in the right and soon they turn on their own kind. Destroying their own doctrine and everyone else within. Creating a great schism in their own church of the diseased.

But I'm nothing special,

I'm not unique.

I have many secrets

and I eat the weak.

We're nothing great, and we're not gods among men. We're all the same willing to die for a blinded cause. At some point we all believe that we fight the good fight. Not me, I know I have no purpose and I'm nothing sort of average. My life has no significance to the righteous or the sententious. Because this heart of mine died along time ago, along with my conscience. Along with my Carolyn. Its my doing that she's gone. She was strong, just not strong enough. She was the weaker element and I had let her down. I had betrayed her faith that night when I was going to leave them there to die. I didn't want her to know my many secrets. It was that I actually cared. But I had to be strong I couldn't afford that feeling or the liability. In the end the weak suffer for the strong.