I’m writing in solitary confinement.
With constant noise.
With leather belts.
As a child.
By people who were supposed to be your “parents.”
Whatever the fuck those are.
Whoever the fuck those are.
But nothing matters.
In those moments.
Strung out across seconds and minutes and days and weeks and years on end.
In the Cell.
And here I sit again.
Trying to write.
Trying to Remember.
In flashing Technicolor glow across the Grey.
Glass one-way mirrors on prison gun towers.
With a bullet with your number and hour and minute inscribed upon each particle
Careening at light speed towards oblivion.
Remembering and Forgetting Countless Lives
And your heart beats.
Because none of it mattered.
And nothing does or ever will in your eyes
Aflame for each other but always apart.
No one ever is.
And the world ends every time you leave and reconfigures itself anew again in this fucked up position every time
Aloft on wings of Flame and Fire
Burns All of the Memories out of your Mind.
you are forgetting
what you wanted to be
And does that life exist?
Unbeknownst to you is another life
full of laughter
With every touch of your fingertip upon my cheek.
But who would touch me?
my dying body
So certain you could lock the door and throw away the key…
But what becomes of boys and girls unwanted and unloved?
Ashamed of imaginary sins.
of your own
Strewn across a dirty Chicago alley
full of piss
from the regurgitated filth
In “Those Places”
That you created.
From your own
In Whose Eyes?
At whose benefit?
For whose posterity?
From what other
pile of shit
I was telling people about the day I was released from prison. Directly from having spent over six years straight in solitary confinement.
I was shackled and chained & handcuffed pushing a cart with the remnants of 11 years spent in the “custody” of the Department of Corrections
Went to trial from solitary confinement when I was seventeen. Spent about seven and a half years in various forms of solitary confinement
But here I am.
Among the so-called living.
Doing something resembling trying to live a life.Posted in Thoughts
Tags: 2016, August, gregory koger, prison, solitary, solitary confinement, writing