tie a knot in the rope

i’m so tired of breathing.  i’ve been told to tie a knot and hang on.  i’ve been told to stand.  i’ve been told to keep fighting.  i’ve been told to minister to those around me.  I can do none of them.  I’m just laying here broken and battered and my only struggle is to just keep breathing.   I’m hurt.  I’m filled with anger and hate.  I’ve heard the worst part about Hell is the complete absence of Gods presence.  Then all thats lacking is the flames.  I don’t want to keep praying.  I have nothing left to fight for.  My physical health is wonderful.  I’ll probably live to be old.  Thats what I have to look forward to.  I have family who loves me beyond belief.  But their kindnesses are like those shown to a stranger.  I see them. and appreciate them for what they are.  I’m too tired and bitter to keep praying.  I can’t pray for strength or grace or mercy.  I have no hope.  How can I pray for vengenace when I’m the worst of everyone?  I have no recourse.  For all hope to be taken.  For every vestige of hope to be completely removed is a terrible thing.  To know that those that hurt me all are happy in their lives.  I’ve fallen.  I’ve failed. But the people I was most loyal to and helped the most have their pleasure in completely destroying me.  I hate all of them.  All I know now is pain and hate.

imw

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the devil and eve

the devil told eve she wouldn’t die.  and she didn’t immediately.  the devil won’t lie without a measure of some truth.  no one would counterfeit a three dollar bill.  when the wages of sin are paid, death comes slowly.  it took Adam 930 years to die after he fell.  during that time he lost his face to face fellowship with God.  heard God curse him and his wife.  Banish him from paradise.  saw the pain which eve bore their sons.  lost one son to murder by another son.  saw another son cursed by God and sent away.  witnessed the downfall of mankind for the rest of time.  No, the wages of sin are sure but the payment is not swift.  The wages I worked hard for. very hard.  and I’m finally being paid.  But i wish i weren’t.  it is heart crushing and soul killing.  they are heavy and painful.  so much so that I can no longer even feel or hear from God.  My God.  or He was.

I’m told of all the dreams, visions, and words that God is giving to people regarding His care and attention for me.  Wonderful.  I hope it gets there thru the horrible nights.  but it would actually help me if He would direct them toward me.  Just once.  A crumb would go a long way with me.  but with my habit of stupid prayers, I’ve prayed and do pray that God would send any mercy or grace He might have had left for me.  Any angels that might have been watching me.  I asked that He would send them all to someone else.  someone who wasn’t lost.  whose blood was on my hands among several hundreds more.  but her blood was the worst.  Hopefully he did send help.  Knowing I have no grace or mercy available makes me feel alone.  being alone in the universe and thru eternity is the worst feeling anyone could feel.  at least i’m suffering for failing.  maybe it counts for something on the scales.  probably not.

imw

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he calls himself krazie

he calls himself Krazie (pronounced crazy).  I’m surprised he doesn’t spell it kkkrazie.  he claims hes a skinhead in a group calling itself w.a.r.  white aryan resistance.  i’m not certain if its a group of whites resisting the aryan movement or if skinheads are just unconcerned with the matter  of redundancy.  consensus is that he joined because hes so tiny and needed protection.  31 years old with 9 years in prison and no larger than a malnourished 14 year old.  he was telling me all about the philanthropic activities of this organization.  sounds great but i don’t think its working because most of the members are incarcerated.  its ostensibly a grouop of people dedicated to the preservation of the white race.  which is odd because apparently when they meet up its to do meth, cook meth, or rob people (mainly whites) to buy meth.  he moved from the top floor because a black guy was sleeping up there (they hate blacks) but hes now sleeping above a Guatemalan (still unsure on official policy concerning Latinos) .  one thing that bugs the heck out of me is the inconsistencies among inmates.  He wants to murder our baby killer but has no problem laughing about how many people he’s got “hooked on the needle.”  parents of small children.  children who are lost to the foster care system.  i would respect racists and bigots more if they would just hate everyone in a consistent way.  i’m thinking about writing to the president of his club to compain.  i don’t think he would be pleased to know about the quality of skinheads in the lower echelons.

I have never been this close to such an open ignorance concerning race.  i can’t imagine being a black kid around someone like this and having someone to hate me for something as inconsequential and uncontrollable as my skin color.  i’ve always hated racism but listening to him talk, only God know how close i came to throwing him over the 2nd floor rail.  the night in got in, after listeningto all his vile conversation, i dreamed that i was in a smaller unit.  there was one black kid and 3 skinheads.  they were in there for having brutally attacked this black kid.  all night i dreamed that they laughed and joked about beating up this “N”.  how funny it was to hear him screaming.  the young black kid was crying in the cell with me while they recounted this story.  much pof what they said was stories this new guy had told me.  When i woke up I was pretty upset.  its probably safer that he did decide to move downstairs.  he’s in here for dope and loves to tell how he lets his 11 year old daughter drink whiskey and how he buys her week to smoke.  i don’t think preservation means what he thinks it means.

imw

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Preachers

Preachers are generally not exceptionally bright. Or good. I hate most of them. The Puerto Rican guy that comes in isn’t one. I think he wants to be. He stutters and had painfully long lessons. Preachers get something into their otherwise empty heads and preach it regardless of audience demographics. I listen to the lesson and its being taught to people in here fro multiple counts of armed robbery, burgulary, impregnating a 15 year old and driving around (while on parole) with a gun and meth. None can read well or spell at all. Most didn’t or just barely graduated school. None have ANY experience with the impressive vocabulary of the clergy. Their eyes glaze over while hearing the words sanctified, justified, redeemed, remission, and even testimony. These guys don’t even know who David and Goliath were. Teaching them about being the vine’s branches means nothing. Being a fruitful believer. They need to hear Jesus. About Jesus, It’s not too late for them. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. Just and only Jesus. I’m still arrogant I guess. And know nothing. I’m sorry. IMW

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Wife

I miss talking to her. I miss everything. I’m sorry. I wish I was better. IMW

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Sweeter

I wish I had been  able to be sweeter all the time. And patient. I learn incredibly well, its just always too late. I’m sorry, I wish I had been sweeter. I’m real sad. And sorry. IMW

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Tattoo Ink Reciped from Prison

Get some soot*

Put soot in bowl

Add a 1/2 cup of yellow shampoo

Mix in a shampoo cap full of water

Tablespoon of thick coffee

Stir

Add drops of water gradually if too thick

Mix until it leaves a thick film on fingers

*Soot is made many different ways. One way is to get some styrofoam cups and burn them under the metal bunk. The soot forms on the metal and is scraped off.

Needles to a tattoo gun can be made from a guitar strings, ink pen springs, and even the wire taken from inside a bread tie. There is some incredibly detailed artwork done and tattoos generally cost only 1/10 of the street cost. IMW

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I don’t know anything anymore. Nothing any more. It’s hard to be humble and gentle when you’re incarcerated. All the time hearing people talk about the horrible stuff that got them in trouble. And making it worse hearing their desire to get back out and do it again. Everyone in here is innocent. I think I’m the only one who thinks I’ve ever done anything wrong.. Two guys got into a fight today. Upstairs by my bunk. Raymond and Brad. I tried splitting them up and holding them back. Raymond stabbed Brad in the face with a broken plastic spoon. Everyone wanted them to fight so I let go and went into a toilet stall.

Brad beat Raymond up. Both were bloody. Blood all on the floor by my bed. Raymond kept calling Brad ‘nigger’. An older black man was here for a couple of days to testify in a trial. He was locked up somewhere else. I sat in the toilet stall and cried while I heard the yells of encouragement to the two fighting. When they were done I cleaned Brads mouth up from all the blood with a wet towel. I apologized for the word nigger being used. To the older black man as well. They were both taken into isolation. My nerves and soul are just being trashed. More and more. I’m not even in a position to reach them or have a desire to. I don’t know I just don’t know. I’m real sad.  IMW

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Dreams

God I keep asking you to stop my dreams. To have mercy on me. To strengthen me. To encourage me. For even a drop of water. A small moment of peace. I get nothing. I get worse and worse. A guy just came in. His bunk is next to mine. His girlfriend goes to that church. The one that knows nothing about forgiveness. He’s friends with a couple of families from there. Both of which I was friends with. One that I was very close to and miss terribly. Their sons would come to our house and loved us. I’ve never hurt them and they too just threw me away like so much trash. Just let the knife twist a little more.

How can someone continue serving the Lord when you won’t even give me the strength to? They sell 54 inch shoe laces in prison. Might be the solution to my problem. God I’m so tired and hurt and lost. I got nothing left. They just threw me away. willing to believe the worst from someone and someones they never like or trusted. It hursts. I hate the so called ministry at that church and everything about it.  The hurt, the time, the effort,disappointment, the betrayal, the lonliness. I hate it and everything about it. I hate my family telling me to minister to those around me. I would rather have my eyes burned out than to have anything to do with it. You said you chose the foolishness of preaching to save the lost. Mine was most foolish and saved no one. I hate the ministry that betrayed me and destroyed me at that church. The ministry that humiliated and made fun of me every chance they got. The people that took and took and then threw me away. They sure didn’t have a problem taking my tithes and offerings. Especially the pastor and his so called wife.

I hate them and what they are. They will be caught someday, and it will be soon.  I hate myself the most though.

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confused? lost? or empty?

i’m so confused. or lost.  empty?  i don’t even know what i am.  i could fight and fight. spiritually, emotionally, mentally.  for my life. but to what end?  what would i fight for?  i don’t know.  no one can tell me. or will tell me.  i don’t know.  i’m just so lost.  hopeless and alone.  and awful.  i’ve told countless people totrust in Jesus.  but i don’t.  can’t.  is there anything worth saving?  the two that knew me best obviously thought not.  He’s done and so is she.  i just don’t know anything.

i hate how so many people would constantly ask me if i were their friend.  like it mattered if i said yes.  so concerned with labeling a relationship as a friendship then throwing me away so quickly.  i don’t think friend means what they think it means.  i hate them too.

imw

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