I don’t know how long Ive been stuck in this prison. Its like everyday I wake up and want to accomplish something and once I complete the daily regime of chores Im thrown back in this cell of apathy. It seems like only now that I am rained in with the total lack of desire to escape by ways of social media am I finally willing to submit to the pen trying to analyze my character and where he is or how he got there is pointless because I can rewrite the whole timeline. I do feel as though this time in jail is important even if its only a deterrent to avoid all future authority.

So now I am walking out of here a free man still unburdened by any responsibility or past just these occasional memories that launch me into places that are neither good nor bad just so. Wether they are figments of my imagination or recall to a past life they are the most tangible grasp on self I own… Other than this tattoo on my arm.

Im getting out of this town and back on the road that seems to be the only safe place for me. Navigating through a town with others social constructs that at this point are still alien to me besides I want to be alone. I look up at the sun and continue my journey in its perceived direction. So ill put one foot in front of the other “Put the other foot down, down, down.” All things considered that shave was mighty fine and I feel happy… Even if only for the fact that part of me feels like myself again.

“Hey Mother fucker, What the fuck are you doing.”

Im instantly ripped back into my cell looking out the window at the top of the ceiling I suppose was placed there to give the inmates some sense of time differential between night and day. I don’t have to look over and to see an inmate bigger than me. I can feel his presence as an orange mass or aggression that burns red where skin should be. I choose not to acknowledge him for 2 reasons first it will annoy him and for whatever reason I get a devilish pleasure knowing that will do the trick. Secondly, I have a confidence inside myself that forces me to not give one inch of ground that same spark tells me I will only take while in here the only concession I am willing to make is I will not take unless provoked.

The ball of energy is now standing an arms length directly in front of me. I take a quick step close the distant and hip toss him to the ground in doing so I give an excellent show of force using minimum effort and not over committing myself to one attacker. Which now I recognize there were 2 more but where previously at my 5 and 7 o’clock. They are surprised and a little scared I imagine they would have jumped on my back had i followed my initial would be assailant to the ground but much to their surprise I had struck first and remained on my feet. I think the showing of measured violence was the scariest thing of all to these delinquents if I had followed through and ravaged my enemy it would have been for fear or blind rage. What I showed was control of the situation. Now I take another quick step and kick the initial assailant in the face keeping a cool voice I say out loud.

“I am doing what ever the fuck I want.”

Then I stomp on his chest driving my heel repeatedly into his solo-plex. Letting loose a blood lust that is only ended by the guards ripping me from a limp faded form.   winning not only this fight but any future engagement because they will know that I am not to be fucked with. 

Darkness…

There is no arc there doesn’t seem to be any journey or its difficult for me to tap into one when I am stuck in this desert. How deep inside my mind can I go and play before I start creating monsters to battle. How is that a step towards enlightenment where subconsciously Im ultimately searching for conflict. If I were to strike back into the wilderness what will I find.