Staying Just above the Water Line

No one helped me. Wife tried her best but she didn’t know how completely. She kept me alive and above the water through sheer force of her will. I prayed and prayed for God to help me. But He didn’t. I was trying to stay above  water while holding what felt like giant stones on my shoulders. I was so lost. I just had no idea of who or where to turn to. I was a prisoner in my life. I’m so sick of people telling me that I have my whole life ahead of me. Thats whats so scary. How could someone be asked to fight for their own life when what they are fighting for is just 50 more years of agony? All I wanted was to be a good minister and a great husband. So fight, pull myself forward inch by inch through the long horrible days and horrible nights? Fighting just to have one more day of agony? The whole time being crushed by the weight of the future and being chased by the pain of the past? I doubt anyone would condemn the victims of 9/11 jumping from the fiery towers. No one understands. I’m not wanting to go to my death. I just want to escape the pain. I’ve tried thinking of every way possible to kill myself in prison but it’s impossible to do if in a sure way. I don’t want to injure myself to where I can’t attempt it again or be locked away to stop it. I’m just biding my time until I can. I can’t take the rest of my life with wife thinking me a monster and not loving me. Not one person came to my aid! Not one! The anger and hate has to hurt someone and I think I have hurt enough other people. I just have to turn it inward. I miss wife.

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Malachi 2:13-14

13. Another thing you do: You flood the Lord’s altar with tears. You weep and wail because he no longer pays attention to your offerings or accepts them with pleasure from you hands.

14. You ask “Why?” It is because the Lord is acting as the witness between you and the wife of your youth, because you have broken faith with her, though she is  your partner, the wife of your marriage covenant.

I pray for forgivness and still feel condemned. I pray for peace and am tormented more every day. I pray for help and have never felt more alone. I pray for vengeance and am still being destroyed. I pray for mercy and still am cast away. I pray for grace and still feel nothing. Now I know why. I have nothing left and am overwhelmed by distress. My hope was in the Lord and He has left me. I cannot go on. It hurts too much and I’m abandoned by these I love and need the most.  I miss wife.

I used to look forward to going to sleep at night. It was my favorite part of being married. I hear guys, even friends of mine, troubled by the fact that they would wake up to the same woman for the rest of their lives. I could only think about waking up and seeing my best friend. Every single morning. The person who loved me more than anything. I couldn’t rest when I was away from home. I’d come home early from trips just to see her. I didn’t show it right all the time. Part of it wasn’t all my fault. A lot of it was! Now I lay in bed for hours. Missing my best friend. Dreaming of her. And waking up to know shes not there. I miss wife.

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Coming off the tracks…

They just took and took and took. I told them for two years that the train wa coming off the tracks. They laughed and took more. I was drowning and sinking and they just kept taking. From both of us. I hate them! I should have told wife everything but I didn’t want her getting bitter. She didn’t like some of what they did but I took up for them. I should have told her everything. I hate them! I miss wife.

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Flight of Your “Friends”

The couple that used to make the most of me not calling them friends? They were the FIRST to email me telling me that I died to them. Maybe I am psychic? Funny how you can read people. My nightmares are still in full effect. Well actually they’re not nightmares until I wake up. Until then they’re delightful. I woke up some guys the other night. I was sleeping and called out “wife”! I was crying. They are very nice to me. Life is ironic if it’s anything. The people who called themselves “Christians” and who I did everything for, took and are still taking every chance they can to kick me while I’m down. These hardened criminals are more compassionate. If anything it makes me doubt their so called Christianity… Above all else it’s that.

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Iambic Pentameter in Prison

I’m still battling my blood pressure over Paul making the iambic pentameter comment. What a boob. And actually I’m not sure of the aliases I’ve created for my fellow inmates. I can’t remember breakfast. I should make a chart. Our ink pens are floppy. And they’re only two and one half inches long. So we wrap them  tightly in paper and tape it up with band aides, or the stickly label off of deoderant. I learned how to make a type of dope called “Red Phosphorous”. Called also “Old School”. Drugs are so sad. Dope friends is what they call themselves. I haven’t eaten any sweets since I’ve been in here. I order sugar for my Kool-Aide Mix. That’s about it.  They keep it 60 degrees with a constant stream of cold air from about 5 different vents. To keep germs down. But our blankets are only 4×4 feet. On rubber mats. No pillows. I roll up my towel (1 1/2 x 2 feet) in my t-shirt for a pillow. No sunlight for 2 weeks. Fluorescent lights 24/7. The people that think I’m being punished would be sorely disappointed. I’d rather be away for the rest of my life.. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I get out. I got nothing left. Make no mistake, it’s all my fault. But people were’nt Christians afterwards or before.

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How To “Keister” Something

If someone ever asks you to “keister” something don’t do it. It’s a method to sneak stuff into prison. Even the most masculine tough guys do it. Except me. Haven’t made that transition quiet  yet. One guy just snuck in a cigarette. It smelled like butt.  Because that’s what “to keister” something means. To store it up your keister. A butt cigarette. the “toughest” guy here was telling me how he snuck in FOUR PACKS of bugler tobacco inot prison. Up his keister. 5 weeks of butt cigarettes. I guess that gives a whole new meaning to a cigarette butt right?  He said the package was as big as a sausage link. Well, I mean it did include 1 lighter. Glad I’m not addicted. Another guy did just come back from court in another town. He’s the one that had the single cigarette. Truthfully, I did ask him to sneak in a full sized ink pen. He couldn’t manage. I don’t know wheter to be disappointed or relieved. A little of both.

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Witches in Jail?

The incident with Brad (not his real name) happened at 1:00 a.m. I’m not sure if any African-American  man on Earth is named “Brad”. Now he talks to me all the time, which is fine but I don’t think he’s brushed his teeth for….ever. He’s come to me a couple times when I’ve been upset and done his best to comfort me with Bible verses or  singing old negro spirituals. He sings like a cross between a bluegrass singer through his nose and a horrible impression of Fred Hammond. But its the thought that counts. At least that’s what they say. When he’s not talking about the Bible or his Baptist preacher father he’s telling me about the magical powers he has acquired from being a witch. He’s a Wicean. I guess just some quick “witch facts”. Babies have spiritual powers until the age of 5. Then a “spiritual bib” comes over our eyes. According to him its whey you often see babies starring off into space crying. They see dead people. The crying has  nothing at all to do with a diaper full of poo or being hungry. Or just being stupid babies. The things you learn. The head goddess is named Bridgette. I think she might be Bridgette the midget Ray Stevens sings about. Lord I hope Ray ain’t batting for the Dark Lord to. Maybe that squirrel disrupting church was actually an evil entity sent by Bridgette to disrupt the Spirit. There’s so much here to learn.

Wiccans, Pagan, and Paganism are the 3 witch religions. They have magic tournaments. I asked if it was like a Quidditch from Harry Potter where they fly on brooms playing soccer in the air? He and his witch friend (Paul) said no. And gav me a VERY dirty look. Very well, how the heck was I to know. He and Paul are discussing a giant witch battle they are both going to be involved with in the dream world tonight. Brad says I wake up tired because my spirit travels as I sleep. I thought it was restless leg syndrome! Think I’d prefer it being my leg. What if my spirit gets lost? Or I get up to use the bathroom while its gone and it can’t find me? Trouble friend!  The pyramid eye on the back of the dollar bill is the “EYE” of Odin. Viking god o the old and the new. And I thought it was the eye of Osiris (an Egyptian goddess which might explain the pyramid). And I stupidly was under the impression that Odon was the father of Thor. And king of Valhalla. But what do I know? He tried reading my future one day. With playing cards. But he was missing some. Which is funny. Anyone could guess the future. I asked him to tell me my past. He couldn’t. Ha Ha I guess its hard to see under so much blood! If he was able to do that I might be a little more convinced.By Grabthar’s Hammer. I would have been impressed. I miss wife.

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3  Meals a day 7:00 a.m.; 12:30p.m.; 4:30 p.m.

Mop and broom etc. at 6:30 p.m.

I’m reading, playing a few hands of rummy with Chris ( who I think may be touched if you know what I mean).

Keep sending money it will transfer with me and I’m laying the foundation for my empire.

One last guy. Terry was in for some sort of serious sex crime. Against a child. He doesn’t talk at all but he did to me kinda. He and Chris were amazed that I wasn’t judgemental toward them.  Said they wished more people were like that. They’re drinking the hooch now. It looks like pineapple juice.

No one ever tried to plead my case with wife. And because I didn’t want to drag my accuser down with me it just made me look that much more guilty.

Love always, 

God is still on the throne. We are not. And the devil can suck it!

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Some of the guys in here  sleep about 18 hours a day. I came across  that on the internet and its called “escape sleeping”. Somewhat akin to the excessive sleeping brought  on by depression. When inmates get out they have a hard time adjusting and getting inot the normal workday schedule.  Most, actually all of them have been in at least a couple times with  the exception of myself and one other guy. He killed his baby and is very famous. And decided  to sleep next to me. Actually, his head is at my feet! Would do the whole sleeping thing too if my dreams weren’t so painful! Don’t sleep well anyway since I’ve been sleeping alone. I’ve lost my measure of peace I had. Everyone says well at least you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. And that’s what hurts the most. Fifty more years of living without a heart and soul. Not much quality of life. I play cards with killers and drug lords. Now, I miss playing it with my best friend.  Who I was married to.

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In seven days I’ve read 11 books for a total of 2384 pages. I try to take it slow because the chaplain only comes by on Tuesdays to change them out. Most of them are westerns and are  about as formulaic as you can get.  I don’t know why  but most of them involve a gunslinger that comes along to save a family in dire straits. Inevitably the unhappily  married wife throws her self at the rugged stranger. Forget that her husband isn’t so debenair as the new guy because he’s  been busy keeping the family together. Busting it everyday to keep them just  afloat.  Sometimes the  hero gives in to the wife ( justifying it by the fact that he’s not sleeping with a friends wife) and sometimes he convinces her that she should stay with her husband. It makes me sick to see how cavalierly people treat marriage. Every person in here with me is on wife number 2 at least. And has cheated on them on numerous occasions. It’s killing me though. I care about one thing only and its not my current location.

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