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Writing by Prisoners
"My Afternoon" August 2001
by by Clint Gerlock ~ CO
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As I sit here, in the bowels of civilization. This place that society uses to throw away
what it wants to forget, the unwanted. I watch the hair on my face grow. I cut it off, just
to watch it grow again. I listen and wait for that moment when the guard comes by to
pass out the mail. I hope against hope that maybe someone remembered me. Maybe today I'll get
that letter that reminds me who I am, that I am a person, I am a man. Before I loose myself in
that dark ever present abyss, that temptress that haunts me day and night. As I wait, I
slip into a whirlwind of bittersweet memories.
I drift away to a place where I was younger, much younger. I look around and see that
its summer twilight. A cool refreshing breeze ruffles my hair and soothes my
sun-baked skin. The sky is a glorious masterpiece of pastels that tragically goes
unappreciated by me due to my tender age. I'm on the sidewalk in front of my house
with my childhood friend Steven and our three wheeled plastic monsters. My dad
walks up to us and tells me its time to come in the house for the night, its getting dark.
My memory fails to recall what possessed me to race down that street anyways, but my
confused friend just follows. I look back to see my father standing there shaking
his head.
At first I was frightened because I knew I was in trouble for blatantly disobeying my dad.
But the hypnotic droning of those plastic wheels on the rough blacktop pushed me into
that fantastic land of fantasy that kids that age so easily enter. All traces
of my dad and the trouble I was in exited my mind. Steven and I had become a
bad biker gang roaring around town like we ran the place, even though we
never left our block. My little legs couldn't go fast enough. I remember
feeling so good, so happy and so free, God was I free. After flying up and
down the street until my legs could no longer push me I went home. I did
not know how much time had passed, the euphoria kept me from noticing how
dark it had gotten.
I burst through the door of my house still excited, out of breath, sweat glistening
on my reddened face. I couldn't wait to tell my parents how much fun I had had.
I found them both sitting on the floor playing cards in the living room. I was
so happy I tried breathlessly to talk when I seen the looks on their faces as
my dad got up. My happiness was popped like a fragile balloon, replaced by
confusion and fear. It hit me. I remembered what I had done. Reality flowed
into me like rancid sewage into a clear stream of water. My fantasy died as
my father walked towards me. I heard that hauntingly familiar ring of his
buckle as he removed his belt. That meant only one thing. But I couldn't
understand it. How could something that felt so good, so right, get me
into so much trouble? I looked at my mother and in an instant her eyes
conveyed to me her understanding. She felt sorry for me. She seemed to
know how much fun I had had, yet she also knew I needed to be punished.
How could she understand my father and me at the same time? As my
father was walking slowly towards me, although I could never read his eyes,
I noticed he didn't appear angry. I was just a kid I could not perceive him
not being mad at me, yet feeling he needed to spank me.
Then it was over. I went to bed hurting more inside then out. I was confused,
what kind of lesson teaches you nothing. I didn't know anything now that I didn't
know to begin with. Other than how good it felt to ride up and down the street
at night. I had found freedom!
SLAM!! BOOM!! The lonely sound of iron on iron violently jerks me back to the present.
As I remember where I am, I realize that sound must be the guard making his rounds.
My childhood memory flees my mind. But not fast enough to keep me from realizing now,
what I should of learned then. What my father tried so hard to teach me. Yeah,
I may have found freedom. But freedom has a price.
Just as regret and hopelessness about my situation starts to set back in, a spark
of hope ignites a passion in me. I realize the guard walking may be handing out
mail. I jump off my bed and dart to the door to find out they're only doing count.
I back off the window so the guard can see his prisoner is still alive and accounted for.
I drop my head in shame. I feel like a freak being warehoused with a bunch of other
freaks, to be viewed by our keepers.
I hear the guards laughing to each other. A fire flares up in me. A fire that has
been smoldering in me for years. I vow not to let it consume me. Walking back to
lie down I force myself to cool the fire with memories. I drift away again.
I find myself walking out of a dark house to an even darker street. I know its well
past midnight. I have no fear for I'm back at that invincible age where I know
everything. A little high, I look up and down the street nervously. Once I'm
convinced that I'm all alone in my world I rest my eyes on my nova. My chest
swells with pride at her metallic blue muscle. She waits quietly for me, my
first true love. I open her door and enter her. She envelops me like a coat
of armor. I roll down all her windows not wanting to loose the night air.
Inserting the key and turning it she instantly comes alive underneath me.
I just rev her engine a couple of times letting her rumble vibrate through
my body, synchronizing my heart with hers. I let her idle while I turn on
the radio. Some classic rock song screams to me about freedom. I turn it
up and head for home.
I take it easy, cautious of police. I could tell she wants to fly though.
I come to an empty stoplight and decide to give into her a little. She seems
to leap off the line, purring to me for more. At the next stoplight I get
into her deeper. It's exhilarating. My heart races with her roar. This feels
too good, I can't go home. I head for Beulah highway, knowing its cop free,
because it goes nowhere anyone wants to go. I hit the highway and clear
the city limits. We're all alone on a road that seemed endless. I get
into her like never before. She takes the reins and seems to leave
the ground. She screams and my blood boils. Lynyrd Skynyrd and her
compete for my ears. I turn off the radio to give myself to her
completely. Pegging the speedometer, I could no longer tell how
fast she's going. The winds exquisite fingers comb my hair and
bring tears to my eyes. I howl at the world in utter defiance!
We become one; Man and Machine. As my voice tired I grew quiet
and just enjoyed the ride. Mile makers flew by in a blur.
I just soaked in this wonderful feeling of ecstasy. I've
never been this happy before. Just as that thought crossed my mind
I remembered a time when I was much younger. I had felt this good
before, I had found freedom before. I felt it had been taken away
from me, but now I've reclaimed it. I laughed hysterically
into the night, promising myself at that moment I'd never
let go of it again.
SLAM! SLAM! SLAM! An inmate pounding on his door brings me back to my cell. I catch a
last glimpse of those taillights flying away from me down that lonely road. I can't
help but to wonder if he would continue down that road he just chose, if only he knew
where it would take him?
I hear two inmates pounding on there doors and throwing threats at each other.
My breath quickens and my heart pounds painfully hard in my chest. I know I'm
safe in this cell, yet I can't help but panic at the idea of violence. I wonder
what happened to me? I use to be so proud, so brave. I truly used to be scared
of no man. Now I'm full of irrational fears. There's just enough of the old prideful
me left to hate myself for what I've become. I've fallen so far.
The irregular and harsh pounding of my heart scares me even more. I pace
back and forth trying to calm myself. As soon as my breathing slows down I return
to my bed. I look down at my chest and see my hair quiver with each beat of my heart.
I lean back, close my eyes and force myself to picture a more peaceful place.
Once again I drift away…
Skyline Drive!!! A narrow scenic road that climbs so high above Canon City.
Deadly sheer drop offs on both sides. A birds eye view of the small town below,
with rolling plains as far as the eye can see, beyond. Oh what memories it brings!
Flying over it so carelessly with my best friend and two beautiful girls hanging out
of the sunroof laughing and squealing uncontrollably. Man, we were so alive and
carefree. Looking over Canon like we were kings and queens of the world. It was
there I held my first. Exchanging tender kisses on the hood of my car. Sun
setting brilliantly in the background, crickets softly serenading us. I left
a little bit of innocence on that cliff and did a little more growing up. God
I had some great moments up there. Times I'll never forget!
I fast-forward to darker days when I was a little older and a lot stupider.
I'd go up that same road for a safe place to shoot up. Harder drugs had found me,
namely meth. I remember how dead I was inside. How could I not feel the glory
and freedom this wonderful place had once held for me? I can't believe how much
evil meth had put in my heart. Why couldn't I see it? I was to busy watching
my back to see what lies ahead. How could I possibly enjoy life like that? It's
no surprise that in those days when I was up there to get high I was usually alone.
If not my partner was just as dead as me. I thought I was so cool. I don't
know how I made myself believe I was even alive?
God I'd give anything to go back and grab that ignorant kid and shake him, kick
him and drag him around. Anything it would take to revive him. To remind him
of days past when I was so happy, free and full of life. If only I could wake him
up and show him what he's doing to himself. Can't he see he's desecrating a sacred
place of my youth? Why doesn't he care? He might as well drive off that cliff for
all he's enjoying life now. I'd do anything to be able to show him. If only he can
see before its to late. IF ONLY! WHY! It's too late.
SLAM! BOOM! The steel doors wake me again. I find myself sitting on the floor
gritting my teeth. Driving my nails into my palms, tears flowed down my cheeks.
I raise my head and look at the concrete ceiling of my cage and cry out simply "why".
I stand up, use my t-shirt to wipe my face, and try to compose myself. I know that
has to be mail call, its getting late in the evening. I walk to my door and see the
guard below sorting a large pile of mail. I allow myself a small smile. As the
guard passes it out my eyes follow him from door to door. My smile melts away
as the size of the stack diminishes. He comes to my door and my heart sinks when
he passes without stopping. I wait for him to finish and come back down the line
hoping he just missed me, when he again reaches my door I get his attention and
ask him if that's all. He rolls his eyes at me because I do the same thing
everyday. He nods his head and walks away. SLAM! BOOM! The iron door shuts
behind him. The echo haunts the pod for a few moments longer.
The fire flares up in me. I learned a long time ago that it is far easier to hate,
than to hurt. So I fan the flames. Fueling the fires with thoughts of getting at
that cop, getting at my lawyer, getting at anyone I can think of that wronged me,
ever! Images of the fear in their eyes explode inside of me. I pace back and forth
letting the fire get sufficiently hot. The heat radiates from my skin. I feel my
head and heart pound in unison. Once the fire is hot enough it begins to consume
all other feelings and emotions inside of me. My eyes search for something to hit,
some kind of outlet. Nothing is to be found in a room of concrete and iron. I let
the fire burn until it runs out of fuel. Until I feel drained totally of all
emotions. Until I find that sustaining numbness I crave.
I have no feelings, I'm numb, a beautiful thing. The point when the mind is no
longer capable of feeling. This is why I allow the fire. The fire numbs me enough
to allow myself a personal vacation from hopelessness and loneliness. "If you don't
have anything good to feel, don't feel anything at all" Isn't that the childhood
cliché? I lie back on my bunk and let my numb mind harmlessly wander. I ponder
a quote by Sheridan Le Fanu that I recently found. It struck me in a profound
way. I haven't been able to get it out of my head.
"Whatever may be my uncertainty as to the authenticity of what we are taught to
call revelations, of one fact I am deeply horribly convinced, that there does beyond
this exist a spiritual world-a system whose workings are generally in mercy hidden
from us -a system which may be and which is sometimes, partially and terribly
revealed. I am sure- I know…that there is a God-a dreadful God -and that retribu-
tion follows guilt, in ways the most mysterious and stupendous-by agencies the
most inexplicable and terrific;-there is a spiritual system-great God- how I have
been convinced!- A system malignant, and implacable, and omnipotent, under
whose persecutions I am, and have been, suffering the torments of the damned"
As these words drift out of my mind that dark abyss opens all around me. I look into
her and she looks into me. I'm so tired and weary and she knows it. She opens her
arms invitingly. Oh how I yearn to just let her rap her arms around me and make me
forget. She is my temptress, my final lover. I take a step closer as my mind
fantasizes about the relief she offers. I teeter back and forth on the brink,
in love with the idea of her. I prepare to take that crucial step. Just then
a thought enters my mind, a thought that chases away the abyss. A single tear
falls from my eye as I watch her go. I know she'll come back, she always does.
My tired body passes into sleep with that bitter thought in my mind.
That thought that always chases my lover away.
"Tomorrow I might get that letter….
Tomorrow I might find hope….
Tomorrow…Tomorrow…..
I could make it to tomorrow…"
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