| There are 8 comments on this blog. |
|
|
Here I sit broken hearted....tried to shit but only farted
|
|
|
Milton took off his hat and tossed it on the bed, the well-worn fedora landing perfectly between his mistress, Amanda Rey, and the Glock. As options go, he's had worse.
|
|
|
I am an inmate at a federal institution in Minnesota. There is a rotating shift of prison guards who watch me, and rarely let me out of their sight. They monitor me from two video cameras mounted on opposite sides of my cell.
I do not consider them as my enemy. I am curious about these men who watch me even in my most personal moments. They apparently know about the incidents in my life that led me here. I always wonder if they would appreciate my stories if I had a chance to tell them. However, they never talk to me. The only communication I have with them is when they pass my breakfast, lunch and dinner through a shoulder-high 4-inch gap in my cell door.
I suppose they keep me locked up alone so others on my cell block floor do not come too close. I suspect there are many inmates who want to injure me if they had the chance, or worse. Or, perhaps I am flattering myself, thinking they know who I am and overestimating my importance here.
I am allowed visitors once a week. I find this a nuisance, as the protocol is that I must lay on my stomach when the guards announce they will enter my cell, handcuff my hands and feet, and lead me to the visitor center.. It is very humiliating, and I think I would prefer not to have visitors in the future.
Yes, I understand that I paid my lawyer in advance to save me, and a retainer to appeal my sentence when I was convicted. So, he visits me every week, updates me on my appeal progress, and pretends to care about my situation.
Yea, sure. Remind me of how much you care about me when the money runs out. Then you will be just another nervous ill-mannered attorney asking for more money. He is no different than the ones here who attack the guards and other inmates with sharp homemade objects, scribble on the walls when no one is looking and rob the rest of us from a good sleep.
The sad truth is that all attempts to rescue or save me have failed.
I can point my finger slightly south a few states down to an incident in Salina, Kansas in March 2017. I put all of my chips in a big basket, thinking I could take you out outside of Denver or somewhere on I-40 if you were a normal person and drove in that direction.
It didn't work out, and I looked like a fool as you drove away. So, who is the better man in this? Me, or you?
I always thought you were just another fool who couldn’t do what I did on a larger scale. You are just a small fish in a big pond and always will be. I admit that you are still on the outside behind the curtain, and I am inside with a steel door between me and the guards.
No hard feelings either way, eh?
|
|
|
It was a dark and stormy night.........
|
|
|
^why do you even bother? Goldfish have more enlightened wit and self worth than you do.
|
|
|
"Wow, that was great!"
|
|
|
The Great Global Lie and Here is Why.
|
|
|
“There is always one moment in childhood when the door opens and lets the future in.”
-Graham Greene
|
| There are 8 comments on this blog. |
