“I don’t want to grow bitter and dark, yet I can feel my mind slipping further and further down the rabbit’s hole turning my warm heart into ice.”
I have made peace with the thought of the possibility that I might never go home. But, where do I call home? I have built a kingdom within my heart because I am not this body, I am a spirit, avoiding the bars of my bones, to imprison me. I cover myself with the clothes, where the seeds dress themselves from the inside out. I have fallen down this rabbit’s hole and have become a stranger to my two daughters and son. I do not wish to lie to you, but even my family has faded away. I am responsible for turning myself into a ghost.
For four years, I wrote a book, poured my heart and soul into it, and my teacher wanted to publish it. He took it and I’ve never seen him or it again. I hear he still teaches in prison. I am a typical short story of a gang member, who grew up being taught and schooled by some of the greatest hard core rappers – glorifying this cemetery I now live in. Of course, lots of positive changes do happen in our prisons now, with lots of self help groups. But, what good is a treasure chest full of gold, if you keep running from grave to grave? I’ve seen many people receive lots of certificates of accomplishments, yet they have not changed but, only for the worst. You ask me what I love? I love to paint the elements of destruction and I love my little radio. I don’t want to grow bitter and dark, yet I can feel my mind slipping further and further down the rabbit’s hole turning my warm heart into ice.
