Targeted?

[Anna’s note: Tod wrote this post on the 25th of January 2017.] 

Hello again and welcome to the Roost.

I was planning on making my next post about the new program where they are putting two people out in “basketball courts” (just a concrete slab, fenced in, with a bare basketball hoop at one end) together. I still plan to tell you all about that soon.

But something just happened yesterday that I think may be of interest to at least some of you. It illustrates the chaos that is prevalent in this world. So I hope no one minds if I relate this occurrence today.

I have to begin by telling you that just about three weeks ago, a major unit-wide “quarterly search” was conducted. As the title indicates, these searches are done approximately four times a year, during which they look for weapons and “contraband” and in general do their level best to disrupt people’s routine as much as possible. So, that means that about three weeks ago all our property was gone through thoroughly and searched.

Now that you have that background…

I was recently asked by one of you whether I am worried about people who work for the AZ Department of Corrections finding out about this blog. (The answer was and still is “no.” If I needed something to worry about, I could find better.) And I am not sure, but I may have been asked what would happen if they did find out. (I know I have run down some possible things that could happen, anyway.)

Well, to perhaps remove the mystery… I may just have found out what would happen if these asswipe bastards found out about this blog.

To be fair, I must tell you at this point that I am not sure that is what has happened. But I have thought through the possibilities and the one that keeps rising to the top of the file, given what was done and “targeted” is that the blog must be the cause. But, this is all conjecture on my part at this juncture. And I want to make that abundantly clear.

Now, with this said, I will relate what happened for you.

Yesterday was a day I was supposed to get recreation time and a shower. (I was in fact supposed to go out to the basketball court with someone!) But everything was “shut down”. Those who asked for a shower were given some vague excuse about a “personnel shortage” and perhaps later. Others asked different guards about recreation, and each was given as different response…something was clearly up!

When a “normal” search is conducted, the search team starts in block or “pod” one, and they continue around the cluster (which holds six pods of ten cells each) until they complete the circle and are done. This is not what happened yesterday. At a bit after 9:00 (9 AM is when administration gets here and fills up their offices in a building adjacent to the prison unit proper.)

The door to this block (I am in pod two) bangs open and in rushes enough cops to “post up” on every cell. (Have not had this type of search since I got off the violence control unit pod years ago!) We were all strip searched (I have described this process before so I won’t go into detail again) and told to “dress warm” and were allowed to take bottles of water with us. We were taken out of the cluster where we encountered at least two, perhaps three, squads of SSU (special security unit… which I also have not been searched by since I was last in VCU). Generally there is only one squad here, so the extra were brought in from other units. Of course at this point, “the jig was up” and we knew we were not just getting hit, but hit hard.

We were taken to outside holding cages where we were put on constant watch by a guard who mostly just sat and looked at us. Asking anyone that showed up as we might about what was going on, we were told that they did not know and were only told that death row was to be “locked down” with no movement until further notice. This in and of itself was odd, as there have been no assaults or communique intercepted by anyone to warrant such a response. So this type of search, while not unknown (if you are in VCU and assaulting people) is unusual, and reserved for “special occasions” as it takes the type of preparation and personnel that it does, and is therefore expensive to pull off, both resource-wise and monetarily.

As I have said before, a “normal” search means we are pulled out and stuck in a shower or something for fifteen minutes or so while a team of two or three guards (not SSU) go through our stuff, and then we are put back in our cages right away.

After an hour and forty five minutes (!!!) we were removed from the outdoor holding cells and brought back inside.

Based on previous behavior of this type, I was expecting us to be moved to different locations all over the cluster (due to time involved and SSU being the perpetrators of the search). This is done when a group of people become too “one-minded” in that one person’s problem with staff becomes everyone’s problem, or there seems to be just too much organization in a block…

But, no, that was not the case. We were brought back to our cages to find the whole hour and forty-five minutes was spent going through our stuff!

I did not ask everyone, but the two I did ask were– like myself– targeted for information. (Paperwork gone through, pads of paper rifled through, that sort of thing.) In general, these types of searches on death row are pretty rare. They are usually reserved for members of prison gangs (which I am not) to try and find out about gang activity information. The last search I got of this type, with SSU being involved and everything, was literally years ago. (Again, when I was on VCU.) and then it was generally after a major and serious issue that had happened somewhere (like an assault that the cops believed had been ordered by another inmate) and nothing like that has even occurred here recently that I am aware of.

But let me tell you what was personally done in my cage on this search. Some (but not all…almost like it was a diversion of some sort) of caches of paperwork (legal work) in envelopes and files were apparently gone through. Letters that have been sent to me were also gone through. But a composition book I keep (and jot down mostly unimportant things in that I want to remember or keep track of) was barely touched! (Which would be the exact sort of thing they would be interested in on an information search…the asswipes do not know it’s nothing until they take it, copy it, and look for non-existent “codes” in it!)

I also have a small file on people of “personal interest” on the row, and although again, this is something that should interest them… well, I am not even sure it was looked at. But none of that… nope…

What they did take was a pad of paper that I had future blog ideas written down in– even a partial post written up on the basketball program was in there! And that was what they took.

They also took every pen I have! (I found this one that I am writing with now rolling around in the bottom of a box.) They took the rolled up paper holders I make for pens because I only get pen fillers to write with, not the plastic part that the filler goes inside of. As far as pencils, I am only allowed to have three-inch-long “golf pencils” so I made a holder for those to fit in and they took that, too! I have had that pencil holder for literally over ten years…gone through I have no idea how many searches! The leads on most of my pencils were broken.

I am pretty sure I am being sent a clear message!

I am very aware that, after extended periods of time in punitive lockdown, some degree of paranoia is bound to set in. (As well as any number of mental issues.) But I have tried to see what was done from other angles, and nothing else makes a lot of sense. I suppose there is some degree of chance that things just happened, out of the blue, to go the way they did. But can you imagine the odds of that? Because I can’t.

To me (a self-admitted asshole) the message that is being sent is simple: under no circumstances will I stop writing entries for this blog!

I must assume someone found Muninn’s Roost and clearly does not like it. Their problem, though, is that there is nothing they can do, legally or otherwise, to stop it! I am within my rights and no laws (or even prison rules!) are being broken, either by Anna or by me.

They can screw with me and make my life miserable. Some of my posts and letters may even “get lost” on the way to Anna. But they are otherwise powerless against their mortal enemy… the truth!!!

As I stated at the beginning of this post, this is all supposition on my part. I may never know one way or another whether my suspicions are correct. (Other than by my treatment here.) There may be clues that can be read (such as if the letters I send to Anna have large gaps between the date on the letter and the stamped postmark date, or if the envelopes are cut open on one end and taped back shut… that means the asswipes are opening them.) But as neither Anna nor I have or are doing anything wrong legally or otherwise, that may be all the evidence we will ever have.

I will have some trouble replacing what was taken. (Perhaps this was their plan? They know my financial situation– they have that on file in their computer system.) The pens I cannot afford to buy. The paper? There were only fifteen or twenty sheets left so I got to use over half anyway. (But it does sting a bit to have it stolen like that.) I can make my pencil holder up again and see if perhaps there is a market for cards….one or two, perhaps? Card drawing is pretty seasonal, except for birthdays, and there are a few people “gettin’ their hustle on” that way. Valentine’s Day is approaching… not a lot of time to get any business together for that, however. Just have to see.

I do know that I will keep posting about this place for as long as I can. I think it is important that I do that– especially now!

Yes, there were other things that were taken, non-blog-related things. Stuff not usually messed with (like my pencil holder) things that I use to make my existence a little bit less annoying. I may not make replacements, actually– my thoughts turn toward “pushing back” at this point.

Well, that is about all I have for this post. I will be back as soon as I can, and I will keep you updated if I ever do find out the reason for what happened. Oh, and I will tell you about the basketball program in the next post, barring any major upheavals here anyway.

Please do not forget to thank Anna….you would know nothing of me were it not for her.

 

Ask Tod Anything: Part IV

Welcome to the Roost once again, where my rantings find a place to rest. I am very pleased to say that I just last night received several pages of questions from you all, sent to me by Anna, that you– the readers of my humble blog– have done me the honor of asking. So that is what this post (and perhaps the next post or two, depending on how much I go on with my answers… don’t want to send Anna a novelette to type out) will be about.

And in the interest of keeping this as short as I can, I will jump right in. I have no name or any idea who these questions came from, just the questions in numerical order.

1.) What is the significance of the name of your blog? Who came up with it, you or Anna?

The name was solely my idea and only I can be blamed for it. I have an interest in mythology. I like mythology of all kinds, but am probably best versed in Scandinavian/Germanic mythology and folklore. And that is where Muninn comes from. (It can be spelled Munin as well.)

In Scandinavian teachings, there is a god named Odinn (otherwise known as Woden, Wodan, Wotan, or Woten) and this god, who is the primary godhead, is the original god of consciousness from whom all other gods (and all other conscious beings) is derived, directly or indirectly. In short, he is the god who rules over all others. In folklore, Odinn has two ravens on whom he relies to fly over this world and report back to him to keep him informed of what is going on here. These ravens are Huginn and Muninn. (They are really metaphorical aspects of Odinn’s consciousness.) Scandinavian and Germanic words have more than one meaning depending on how, where, and when they are used, and these two words are no different. In this context, Huginn means thought or he who thinks, and Muninn means memory or he who remembers.

There is a book in Scandinavian folklore called the Elder Edda, or Poetic Edda. (Some consider this to be a holy book.) In this book there is a story: Grimnismál (the lay of Grimnir) in which Odinn is captured by an evil and greedy king. (Germanic gods are often portrayed with human aspects and vulnerabilities… they can age, they can be captured, sometimes on purpose as with this story, and they can even die). Odinn is shown a kindness by the king’s ten-year-old son, whom he rewards (in part) with knowledge, some of which is knowledge of the gods. (Neither the king nor the boy know it is Odinn whom they have captured.) And during that exchange, Odinn tells the boy the following:

Huginn and Muninn fly every day
over the expansive earth;
I am anxious about Huginn, that he will not come back,
Though I fear even more for Muninn.

In this strophe, I believe the importance of memory to the Germanic peoples is being exemplified.

Now, all that said, Muninn’s Roost is where I can put my memories– and yes, thoughts too, but I think memory to be very important, as that is really all I have left in this cage. And although (or, perhaps, because) my consciousness is stifled by the horrific environment that surrounds me, I cling desperately to these thoughts from my past.

I actually put a lot of thought into the name for the blog– and– I was hopeful that someone might ask after the name’s origin so I could show off my Germanic folklore chops…just kidding… maybe…

2.) Beer or wine? Coke or Pepsi? McDonald’s or Burger King?

In my youth I put away my fair share of beer (Budweiser for the most part) but as I got into my mid-twenties I developed a fondness for a Guinness Stout (not technically a beer) but I also kept a couple of bottles of decent wine around as well.

It has been some amount of time (a very long time) but I liked Pepsi as a kid.

I lived in a pretty rural area of Colorado (drove over fifty miles to buy groceries) and in that town there was no Burger King or McDonald’s that I recall…but there was a place called Don’s Drive-In that had a teriyaki mushroom burger on a homemade bun that was like six inches across, and that was unbelievably good! So I guess my answer to that last part is, Don’s Drive-In!

3.) How would you describe your political leanings?

Wow! I could write a novelette on what I think about what is going on in the U.S. government. But in the interest of keeping this as simple and short as I can… both of the parties have some, and I emphasize some good ideas. (I am all for freedom… of all types. I don’t much care for repression of any kind.) However, both parties also have some of what I see as horrifically bad ideas. I was not there of course, but from what I can gather about what is going on in Washington D.C. right now, I don’t think (in my opinion of course) that it is what the founders of this democratic experiment called the United States of America really had in mind. So I guess I could say my “political leanings” are at best disappointment, at worst, disgust. (And these feelings are Pre-Trump if you are interested… but now? I just sit here open-mouthed in total bewilderment.)

4.) Which is better, Star Trek or Star Wars?

I grew up on Star Trek (the original series– yes, I am old) and the swashbuckling Captain Kirk. Cavorting with green slave girls and saving whole planets was every kid’s dream! (I was too young to pick up on the political messages being sneaked in by the studio heads and censors at the time; that came later.) But Star Wars is a much more involved story full of deeply fleshed-out characters people can invest in… so both are good in their own ways. However, that silly Star Trek always had a place in me as part of my childhood– a simple and safe place I can always visit in my mind.

5.) Are you a cat person or a dog person? Do you have a favorite breed?

Do I have to choose? I am a great lover of animals of all sorts. I’ve had both– at the same time, even– and loved them equally. As far as breeds go… I don’t even know what breed she was, but I had a huge white cat I was very fond of. Anna has three cats, and she often sends me pictures and updates, which I enjoy.

Dogs? I had a boxer that was my very best friend as a child. As an adult, I had a black lab/Malamute mix (she looked like a large Labrador) that was one of the smartest dogs I have ever seen, and was a good friend.

I have also had snakes as pets, and a grey tree/house squirrel that seemed to think he was a dog (an exercise in patience I do not recommend… squirrels make horrible pets!) and… are you ready for this? A raven! Who was… truly beyond friendship… more like a sibling, really. And, yes, the other reason for the name of the blog… his name was Muninn. A relationship (he was not a “pet”– when he was grown, he could come and go as he pleased but almost always slept in my room, often standing on the part of my pillow I wasn’t using) that I would also not recommend for most. It’s like having a very precocious two-year-old child that never grows up! A really good alarm clock, though…when Muninn got up, I got up.

6.) If you’ve ever read Harry Potter, what house do you think you’d be in?

If memory serves (and sometimes it doesn’t) the Sorting Hat chooses, does it not? But rather like Harry, I would be hopeful for Gryffindor. They seemed to have the most fun. (Granted, the books mostly centered around characters that belonged to that house.)

7.) How often do you see a doctor, a dentist, a psychiatrist/psychologist, etc.? How does that work? Do you have to be handcuffed while being examined? Do you leave the prison grounds to get medical checkups or do they come to you? What about if there is an emergency? Would you be chained up in the ambulance?

Good questions! You see someone at medical (rarely if ever “a doctor”– usually someone claiming to be a nurse) after you put in a special form to do so (it’s called a Health Needs Request or H.N.R.) after you submit such a form– it has in the past taken months to see someone, and there have been numerous lawsuits– you now go to medical within a couple of weeks to see someone who asks you what is wrong, takes notes, then puts you on a list to see someone, who puts you on a list to see someone… you get the picture… and this can take months. (But, hey, they can claim they saw you within a certain number of weeks, which satisfies the court ruling.)

Yes, we are always handcuffed, chained, something. The medical unit is on prison grounds so unless it is something really major we do not leave the prison. In case of emergency they can (IE, they deem it needful… I have been sewn up and given an antibiotic course right here.) They will take you to an actual hospital (about an hour away) during which you are chained up in the ambulance and chained up in in the ambulance and chained to a hospital in the ambulance and chained to a hospital gurney when you get there. (Or so I understand anyway– I have never left the prison grounds.)

In short, medical issues often go untreated here. If they do receive some sort of treatment, it is usually inadequate. Mental issues are even worse. They just throw pills at someone who has often been misdiagnosed so usually poorly medicated (thorazine used to be big here… I don’t know if that has changed or not.)

The “medical staff” we get here usually are at the “end of the line” for a medical career and are considered unemployable anywhere else, so we get what the state pays for.

8.) To what extent are issues such as vegetarianism and veganism, gluten sensitivity, kosher/halal religious diets, and allergies accommodated on death row?

I do not know anyone on it because it is…well… I hear it’s just about inedible. But the prison has one diet that covers pretty much all of what you mentioned. It has beans, a lot of rice, and some carrot sticks and celery that cannot be sold in a store so the prison gets it for next to nothing. “Special” diets are discouraged here.

9.) What commissary items are most highly sought after, besides stamps and envelopes?

I don’t really know. It has been a long time (five months? maybe six?) since I have personally purchased anything other than stamps, envelopes, paper, soap, or shampoo. (And I am likely going to shave my head so I can eliminate shampoo.) I suppose it’s an individual thing– a matter of personal likes and dislikes. There are a great deal of unhealthy people that gravitate toward the candy bars and potato chips. If I were able I suppose I would likely supplement the poor nutrition of the high carbohydrate and fat diet they give us with things like the fish and other protein items that are available on the commissary list. I would also suppose coffee would be high on the popular lost. But like I said it is pretty individual for likes and dislikes, I suppose.

10. I saw in a documentary once that, when an inmate is taken away to be executed in Oklahoma, all the other inmates on death row refuse their meal on the night of his death as a show of respect and solidarity for their friend. Do the men in Arizona have any rituals or traditions on the day of an execution, or afterwards, to honor someone who has passed or is about to?

This s a question that will take some “creative” answering. On some death rows in the country, a mindset of “all for one and one for all” is prevalent.

This is so because the death row population is separate from the “normal” (a term I use loosely here!) prison population– which is where things like rapists and child molesters and child killers are not tolerated. Out “on a yard” (another term for a prison unit) these individuals would end up in “ad-seg” (administrative segregation– otherwise known as protective custody.)

In Arizona, our death row functions more like a regular prison unit, in which you have a GP (general population) section and a PC (protective custody) section. As GP, we do not associate with protective custody in any way. This of course results in a schism in the Arizona death row population.

(My mindset is simple: I have children, grandchildren, and female friends on the outside and it would be dishonorable– and, to my mind, insulting to them– if I were to associate with the type of low-life that obviously has no respect for them, or even a semblance of an ethical compass of any kind.) So I personally have issues with rapists and people who commit crimes against children, sexual or otherwise.

But to get back to the question: this separation means that there are no organized tributes of any sort. If we know the person we each observe our own way of showing respect for them, and we do so individually.

For me? I have one that I think of every year on his birthday. (I think of him often of course, but his birthday is spent with him in mind all day.) As long as his memory survives, he survives.

(It should be noted that the “close custody experiment” I mentioned in a previous blog post throws this whole separation thing to the wind. No matter how I mentally address it, I can only imagine bad results coming from it.)

11.) What are the guidelines for what you can theoretically order for your last meal? Is there anything specific you are not allowed to request? Would they give you a beer, a cigarette, or a doobie if you asked for it? And if you had, say, a life-threatening peanut allergy, would you be forbidden from ordering a PB&J? Along similar lines, do you know (or know of) anyone who has made a bizarre or interesting last meal request or plans to do so?

The rules have changed for last meals since I got here. It used to be you could request anything as long as it could be obtained locally and could be cooked at the prison. Then it was, you could request anything as long as it could be obtained locally but you had to pay for it yourself. Now my understanding is that it has to be something the prison already makes….but that could be wrong. (It may still be that you have to buy it if you don’t choose something the prison already makes.)

No, no beer, cigarettes, or doobies. (A joint and a glass of single malt scotch would be my request if either of those things were allowed.) And if the prison is aware of any allergies, then nope, they won’t let you have it.

As far as bizarre requests go… Anna has gone online and cannot seem to find a record of this… but there was a guy who told me he was going to ask for five pounds of fried okra, and a guard said that was what he got.

As I have 32 questions here, I will let Anna take a break and give her typing fingers a rest. If your question has not been answered, worry not; I will get to it. But for now I will stop. I will get to answering the rest of this batch of questions very soon, though, so stay tuned, and please don’t forget to thank Anna, without whom you would not be reading this.

On Blogging, Captivity, and Sanity

Hello again and welcome to the Roost. I understand this thing is doing pretty well in readership. (As most if not all of you know, I do not personally maintain the site. In fact, I’ve never laid eyes on it. I handwrite the content and my very dear friend Anna posts it for me.) I am not sure how I feel about so many reading my thoughts. I suppose I may not have really considered it all that much. (That might actually be a good thing– not thinking too much about it, that is. I have always been pretty private… before this place, anyway…)

I am not sure how I feel about so many reading my thoughts. I suppose I may not have really considered it all that much. (That might actually be a good thing– not thinking too much about it, that is. I have always been pretty private… before this place, anyway…) I have never even kept a journal– not really, anyway.

I have never even kept a journal– not really, anyway. I do have a composition book in which I write meaningful quotes. A sample, out of a book I read a bit ago called Live by Night by Dennis Lehane (wonderful novel) goes: “Violence procreates. The children your violence produces will return to you as savage, mindless things, You won’t recognize them as yours, but they will recognize you. They will mark you as deserving of their punishment. They will punish you for the carelessness of their creation. Violence breeds violence. That is an absolute. But it never returns in a way you can predict.” (That was a “knock me down on my ass” moment reading that novel, and I had to write it down.)

But this blog is about the most open I have ever been. For example, I have never told anyone in here about some of the stuff I wrote in that holiday post I wrote. So this is all pretty new to me.

I suppose my reasons for blogging must go beyond the selfish, as I carry on doing it regardless of the response or lack of response, and deplete my ever-dwindling supply of postage with each entry. There must be some altruism there, right? Or perhaps not… maybe I just need to write to get some of the frustration of this place “off my chest” so to speak. Maybe this is my last flailing attempt at maintaining whatever I have left of my sanity, which can’t be much.

A place like this does change a person. I don’t care how mentally strong a person is– they cannot live in an environment like this for years and years and be the same as when they arrived. I believe I have mentioned watching others go insane in here, but I don’t think I have touched on realizing that you may be joining that crowd. I came in with some background in philosophy but at some point, it begins to become more and more difficult to “wax philosophic” concerning how a society deems people (even people they deem “bad”) and make any sense of it.

I came in with some background in philosophy but at some point, it begins to become more and more difficult to “wax philosophic” concerning how a society deems people (even people they deem “bad”) and make any sense of it.

I even wonder if perhaps my jailers are insane. (Not all of them, mind you, but certainly the ones in charge.) Some of them are not what you would call “the cream of the crop” of society, after all, and those seem to be the ones that advance most readily. (I have seen my share of petty, vicious, small-minded, lying reprobates climb the ladder to success at the Arizona Department of Corrections.)

I remember a time when prison guards would take off their uniforms before they went home because they didn’t want their neighbors to know what they did for a living. (And it wasn’t because the profession was bad…it was because of the reputation of the profession and those who performed it.) They were as bad as, or worse than, those whom they were hired to keep in cages. And that has not changed. The last I knew, about a quarter of the employees who work for ADOC have had felony contact with law enforcement but are given “preferential treatment” by the system because of their “high stress” jobs. And most of those continue to work for ADOC (except for the ones they can’t hide, which is rare– an ADOC corrections guard named Santiago that used to work for this unit who got a “sweet deal plea agreement” and is now sitting in protective custody right here in the Florence Complex prison for killing his own mother– if memory serves, he beat her to death with a cooking pan. I honestly can’t recall all the details…but please tell me again how the death penalty is supposed to be a deterrent? He worked on death row! But this example provides a reasonably accurate picture of many who work here.

But I feel I need to state here that I have seen decent people work here, too. But it must also be stated that most (not all, but surely most) of the good ones do not work for ADOC for very long. They see how fellow human beings are being treated and just cannot morally abide it…they leave the profession altogether. (Compassion is not just looked down upon here; it is vehemently and systematically discouraged.) And the ones that do stay, at some point they either lose their compassion or find a way to pretty thoroughly suppress it. I try to take all of this with the proverbial “grain of salt” but, wow, it is difficult sometimes.

As you might imagine, I have a great deal of time on my hands to think about things. I wonder if, on some psychological level, society just needs something to demonize and hate. When you step back and look, that statement is not as farfetched as it may seem at first gloss. If so, then I think I may be part of the element that serves that purpose.) Some people sure seem to have a lot of hate, though.) But I guess I can sort of look at it this way: At least I am “serving a purpose” right?

Anna tells me that she has received a few mean-spirited and petty emails concerning her role in helping me to reach out from this cage– really, people?!– I guess when you’re anonymous, it is easier to be rude. The internet was not all that big when I was on the outside. People seem more polite when they have to look you in the face. At least where I lived they were.

I would like to know what the issue is? What is it that people fear that makes them lash out like that? (Because, mark my words, they are afraid of something…I guarantee it!) And to lash out at Anna of all people… the gentlest, kindest human soul I have ever known.

But what is it? I live in a cage under sentence of death. I can’t hurt you. So, is your fear that people will know that I am not a sociopathic monster? That, hey, I’m just a person just like everybody else! And maybe people will start asking why someone ends up on death row, instead of assuming the solution lies in just committing another murder and that will solve everything. (Yeah, I’m not the sociopath here… I didn’t keep hundreds of people in cages only to strap them down and pump them full of caustic chemicals to kill them…can you imagine the trial on that one if anyone but the state did it?) But it’s me– us– that are supposedly the monsters…it’s perfectly fine for the state to murder us. Think about that absurdity for a moment… I’ll be honest, it makes me laugh when I consider the stupidity…but then again, my sense of humor has always been a bit warped.

I suppose I have rambled on long enough about nothing in particular. (The whole title of the blog does have “ravings” in there somewhere) and that is what this post is about…nothing. If I want anyone to take something away from it, I will refer you back to that quote from Live by Night: “Violence breeds violence.” If violence procreates, then what, as a society, do you breed by condoning what the state says it does in your name? Revenge is one thing, but you have to be able to sink your own teeth in a thing to get that. A sterilized little murder by proxy, tucked away from the sight of all but a select few witnesses? Now that is the act of a barbaric monster!

When I was on the outside, it was my habit to give gifts to those I care about on the eve of the Solstice (as I write, it is now that very day, the 20th of December). But as I sit destitute in a cage, that is lost to me (as are so many things) I will give you one of my creations in the form of a poem I wrote.

I was asked to write a blog on what my last day alive would be like. I wrote a poem entitled “The Pithing Pen” about a year ago, before I started writing to Anna or doing this blog. It is metaphorical but does get the point across.

Please remember to thank Anna, without whom none of this would be possible. Dear friend, words cannot express my fondness or my gratitude.

 

Jigsaw Man

I have yet to tell you about my past within this system. Let me put it this way: whatever may happen to me, it won’t be anything really new for me. I have had mail “lost”, my religious property disrespected and destroyed without cause, the few things I am allowed to have purposely broken, lost, taken for made-up reasons… these things were done to me on purpose and with malicious intent. It is part of surviving within the “violence control unit” section of this prison unit. 

The following poem was written when I was housed in VCU. It is one of my oldest pieces. 

I am in pieces — parts of a whole I suppose.
Sometimes the pieces don’t fit — or if they do,
Then not in the correct places.

I wonder about if I am put together properly.
Shouldn’t there be instructions? An owner’s manual perhaps?
One would think there would be something.

Pieces fall out sometimes — when I don’t notice is the worst…
All of a sudden I realize I need something and it’s not there!
I just had it! Where is it?
Did I leave it somewhere? What if someone picked it up?
An innocent? PANIC!

You can bet there is no return address on it.
And I know that I will never find it if I go looking for it.
It just doesn’t work that way…

I can’t throw away the pieces that I don’t want.
That never works. (I’ve tried.)
Just when I think I’ve gotten rid of something…
There it is again! Like gum on my shoe, it’s sticky.
It’s just hiding until you least expect it.

I hope that someday I can figure out how all the pieces fit.
I think that maybe if I can get them all in the right places,
then I’ll know stuff… I will finally understand.

Of course it may not work out for everybody…
Maybe all the pieces are mixed up for a reason…
I’ve thought about that too– perhaps it’s better off with me bein’
A jigsaw man.

So You Want to be a Pen Pal

Greetings and welcome once again to Muninn’s Roost. I have been promising a post concerning pen pals so I will see about doing that for you. I have actually tried a couple of times but I always got caught up on several issues.

I am actually in a bit of a quandary over doing this post. On one hand, I wish to do this for several reasons. (IE, I have been asked to do so, I would like to help people to obtain a good open relationship of some sort with individuals on my side of the bars that would benefit from it, I think it a worthy subject…etc…) but on the other hand, there are people here that I certainly would not want someone I care about to be in contact with for any number of reasons. (There are sexual predators, “con artists” that simply want to use people and have little if any sincere intentions, and there are of course just plain ol’ bad people.)

So I guess I should simply start with a cautionary note… or at least a personal suggestion: know who you’re going to write to before you send your first letter. And know yourself. Figure out what you are willing to put into the friendship beforehand. (Also, you can always decide to modify your commitment as you get to know the person and feel more at ease with your friendship.)

And understand what it is you are doing…if you find someone who is sincere and simply wants to connect with a world that has mostly turned its back on them, they can actually be emotionally damaged in any (or all) of several ways.  (Of course, they will “put up the front” of being big bad convicts…we all do…) But they can have trust issues. If they are in a “lockdown unit” like I am, they can suffer from paranoia, or they might just be pretty insecure in general due to a traumatic family background. (Unlike myself, a well-adjusted and completely normal and rational individual… I can’t believe I just wrote that with a straight face…) So, starting off a relationship of some sort and then just deciding not to write anymore at some point can actually have a profound effect on some of the people in this situation. (I actually started to write to a couple of people not long after I got here and decided to stop due to them just seeming to “live on” with their lives that I no longer seemed to fit into… I did not do the “pen pal thing” for a long time because of that– and if you are wondering, it is the profound loneliness of this world that spurred me to reach out once again.) So keep that in mind. Mail can be pretty important in a situation like this. Every letter I receive from Anna is like a ray of sunshine beaming into a dark and oppressive world… I am not exaggerating…every letter from her makes me smile as few things here do.)

Now… all that said… when Anna first offered to do this blog for me, my first thought was, (and I expressed this to Anna) “Oh! Perhaps I can get more people to write to me using this blog thing!” (I did not even know what a blog was. I had to ask Anna!) But it has grown beyond that. I guess I could say I kind of feel a responsibility toward the blog, and toward my readers.

So, my fist instinct is to say, “I know some people deserving of reading out who are sincere and not predatory or sex offenders.” But that is putting a lot of responsibility on me and I am not real sure I want that. (I do know some good people, though.) So I am just going to use myself as an example of what I would want, and let you good people figure it out for yourselves.

Be honest. With your first letter, let the person know what you are looking for, or at least why you decided to write to them. Whether that’s friendship or Christian outreach or whatnot… be upfront about what you are looking for.

(And be aware, some in this situation have “found God” for the first time and are quite…enthusiastic about sharing their faith. Others, like myself, try to find solace in inner peace and are somewhat private about such matters. And if you are contacting people in here (0r elsewhere) for reasons of Christian outreach, I don’t think there are many who enjoy being “preached at”. Although I would not doubt you can find some who do. That’s not to say you can’t be a religious person yourself– Anna is profoundly religious and I respect her faith greatly– just don’t be a jerk about it. I could go into the psychology of people who “find God” when they are condemned to die but it is not that difficult to figure out so I will spare you to explore that on your own should you wish.)

I personally like to have a picture of the person that I am writing to. It seems to help connect the words to a tangible idea. If I have one I send a picture of myself along with the first letter I mail. (There are pictures available on the prison website, but I dislike those pictures of myself, because I generally do not look too pleased to be here in them. Of course there are people who smile like idiots at whatever camera points in their direction… I don’t quite understand why people would wish to look happy in a “mug shot” but to each their own I suppose…) One of the “pen pals” I had long ago used to send me pictures of himself going just about everywhere. It kind of gave me a sense of living vicariously through his travels. (If you are wondering, he passed away some time ago.) Anna sends me pictures of her cats, so I have gotten to watch her kitten grow up.

And, for the record, I am not very fond of the term “pen pal”. That’s just a personal thing, though– Anna is my friend, pen or not.

As far as how to get connected to someone in a situation like mine… most of the free sites you will come across (like the Death Row Support Project that you will find mentioned on my blog page) are Christian outreach of some sort. However, if you are secular, try not to let that put you off. (I don’t think you have to join their religion to participate.) And going through one of those programs does not necessarily mean you will get an inmate who is a fire-and-brimstone-breathing amateur tent revivalist…although I suppose anything is possible…) There are “professional” websites that charge us money to get on them, and you can better tailor what you seek I suppose. But I personally am glad that Anna did not go that route. I would have never met such a kind and terrific person had she done that.

I have spoken to people on my side of the bars about it, and most (but not all– there are one or two who are an exception) don’t much care to write to people who take on the task of writing to a large number of people who are locked up. I can’t say why this is, as I personally don’t mind. (I look it as being about the same as having friends on the outside. If you have, say, four friends, talking to one does not detract from interacting from another.) Perhaps it is a time thing or a quality of interaction. If someone writes to, say, ten or fifteen people, their interaction with them would be more superficial than if they focused on a friendship over time. I had not really thought about that before; that could change my mind about it now that I think about it– but perhaps it is simply because friendships are so rare in here. I know a lot of people in here but I can’t say I would call any of them true friends. Prison is a dangerous place full of personal agendas…you can never be sure if someone is truly your friend or wants something from you… I know one thing is for certain: I would not want many (if any!) of the people in this place in my home if I were on the outside. In the time I hae been here I can only think of three that I would. I guess that is kind of sad now that I think of it…

Upon going back and re-reading this, I hope I have not made it sound like more trouble than it is worth. I truly do not believe that to be the case. I know of people who have had friendships struck up through the mail, and those friends have been there for them for years. When they speak of their friend it is with kindness and true concern if the situation warrants it. And with some, I have seen their whole demeanor change when they speak of their friend. (Personally I am rather private and like to keep the two worlds of this place and the outside separate but that is just a personal choice.)

So I do truly think that reaching out to someone in this situation can be beneficial to both parties, actually. You can meet someone that you might not have been expecting to. I find people are a lot alike no matter where they are. Their concerns, likes, dislikes, etc. are all pretty much similar. And people in here have the unique experience of having a lot of time on our hands so they consider current affairs, both local and world, a bit more deeply than the average person whose life is very busy. (I do not have a television set, but most here do, and they watch shows like world news and 60 Minutes religiously and then talk about it and reveal interesting– or amusing in its absurdity– insights into what they have seen. My personal avenue for information is NPR, so I can even contribute on occasion.) And, believe it or not, a lot of people on death row have a level of higher-than-average education than you generally find in prison.

And, believe it or not, a lot of people on death row have a level of higher-than-average education than you generally find in prison. And you can get lucky and find some amazing artists as well. (I myself have a meager talent in that area…I wish I had more time to devote to it for drawing things for Anna, but I have no source of income, so I end up having to draw things for people in here to send to their families so I can get soap and shampoo and writing supplies that I need.)

That is a common theme here– those who can draw do so for those who cannot draw but have families that support them financially. (The competition can be fierce!) But a few here like the flowers and some other things I draw, so I can get a few commissary items usually…but I digress… as I was saying, I do believe developing a relationship with someone in the situation I find myself in can be to the benefit of both parties. I simply advise some measure of caution be employed…at least until you know the person well enough to know who it is you’re writing to. Like any other friendship, it can evolve and expand over time.

I hope I have not been boring or too general, but to be honest it comes down to that pesky “responsibility” thing. I don’t want people to think it’s all party balloons and whizz-poppers, because the truth is you can get a bad setup that just does not “fit” with your expectations in any number of ways. But, on the upside, there are more where that came from so you can always try again. (If you feel something is not working out for whatever reason, it is best to move on as quickly as you can, before any attachments are formed.) And you may just find something totally unexpected that enhances and enriches your life in ways you did not expect.

Well, there is your post on pen pals. I hope at least some of you find it helpful. Don’t know what the next post might be yet. (Crazy crap from in here or my life prior to this malignant fit of insanity called prison.) But I promise to try to make it interesting, in any case.

Bye for now…and remember, without the wonderfulness that is Anna, you would not be reading any of this. Thank you, my friend!

 

 

Having an Orange Christmas

(This post is dedicated to my father. You are missed. I’m sorry it took so long for us to become friends. C.L.S  6/10/1922 – 1/1/2014.)

Greetings again! I know that I mentioned I would do my next post on the issue of pen pals, but today is Thanksgiving, which brings to the forefront the issue of holidays spent in prison. I hope you forgive me for pushing pen pals back, but I promise that post is coming soon.

I suppose I should tell you that I have done the whole “prison holiday” thing many times. One would think that would make it easier, what with knowing what to expect and all… but in some ways, it actually becomes more difficult with time.

The family I was born into is all gone now. (Yes, I know, it’s ironic: I’m on death row and I’ve outlived everyone else.) My mother and brother died some time ago. My father died only three years ago. (The death of someone close to you while one is in prison can be very hard. They don’t let you out to see to the deceased’s affairs or attend any memorial services.) All of them died while I have been here. As the only ones left, my father and

As the only ones left, my father and I drew pretty close. (Far closer than we ever were on the outside- sad, that.) We had some years as the only ones left. I know my situation was emotionally difficult for him. I could see it in his eyes. He was dedicated, though– making the long drive every couple of weeks like clockwork, clear up into his 90s. (A two-hour visit took up about half a day for him, including driving time.) We corresponded regularly as well; I could almost predict the day they would bring me a letter from him. (He was a Marine and had a routine that would not be broken!)

He died suddenly; an incident occurred in which he was injured and he was gone before I could figure out what was happening. I could write a book on what it’s like to lose a loved one while you sit helplessly in a cage, but this post os not about that. It is about holidays spent in a cage.

There are children and grandchildren, of course…but as in a piece I wrote that accompanied another blog post: “the cage takes all that away somehow.” I do understand– really, I do– who wants to be saddled with an absentee parent or grandparent who was dumb enough to get locked up? And after a while, you’re just no longer in the forefront of anyone’s mind. They have their own lives, their own family, and today’s world is so busy. Understanding that, being able to move beyond the self, can make it easier. But if you let it, the loneliness can become almost palpable.

I have memories, of course. (I live on memories in this hole.) Growing up around family during the holidays, the warmth, the laughing, the aggravation, the yelling… enjoy every moment you have– if it ever disappears, you can’t believe how much you will miss it…trust me on this one!) I even look back on what at the time I thought to be major incidents of dire consequence and smile fondly at the memories.

Then there are “the firsts” that I cling to as a drowning man clings to a life preserver… I remember as if it was only yesterday the first Christmas tree that my son could focus on and really see. It had glass balls of red, green, gold, and silver, and enough lights to illuminate a small city, I’m sure. I held him sitting on my left forearm, high enough so he could see over my shoulder. He just stared in wide-eyed wonderment– we must have stood like that for ten or fifteen minutes. (My shoulder had a drool spot that was four or five inches across–not an exaggeration! I then sat him on the floor in front of the tree and took ornaments off of it and handed him the different colored ones and let him look up close at the shiny glass balls. (For a long time after that, everything he thought was pretty was “shiny” for him.) Truly I remember this as if it only just happened. (Much to his chagrin, my son– who, like Anna, is twenty-five years old– can be a small child to me sometimes.)

But I can’t make new memories– not ones that I want, at any rate– so us singing the Muffin Man song as he sits in his high chair and watches me make his favorite blueberry muffins, or singing his “bath song” (we had a song for everything) while he gets cleaned up after the muffins. (I swear, I would watch him and I still have not a clue how he got muffin and blueberries ground into the hair on the back of his head!) These are the memories I hold onto desperately.

But now my holidays are empty and alone. No family, no children or grandchildren, just the cage and the convicts. Some in here handle it better than others. I wonder if not having a television might be part of what makes it easier for me. No holiday commercials, no seeing families gathering. (Makes it rough on keeping up with affairs both local and abroad, however. I am the last to know anything, and only what and when my neighbor deems noteworthy.)

But the level of “behavior issues” goes up this time of year. The prison attempts to control that to some extent… they allow people to buy “special holiday-only” food items off of the prison canteen list. (If you get into any sort of trouble you are put on “loss of privileges” and cannot participate.) I suppose the “comfort food” items can be of some help. But one must of course be able to afford these things. In the state of Arizona, those of us on death row are not allowed to have jobs in prison. Some inmates have family or friends that are willing to send them a little money, but if you have been here for a while like I have, you don’t have anyone on the outside anymore to do that. Again, the cage took all that away. To be honest, I can have trouble obtaining postage to maintain this blog. Stamps, envelopes, paper, and pens must all be obtained through the prison canteen. No one can send any of that stuff.

I suppose it could be said that I have “behavioral problems” at times. Not being able to participate in such things as the holiday canteen items makes that control kind of moot for me. (And they can’t take away a television set I don’t have, either.) On an intellectual level, I know it is/was my own actions that led me to the place that I am… but one simply cannot blame themselves all the time. (I shudder to thing on what sort of psychological issues that might lead to!) So blaming the system or the prison on some level for something can be a viable option. (As long as you don’t contemplate too deeply your reasons behind it and it all falls apart.) So things that happen, sometimes admittedly small things, can cause an exaggerated reaction. (I am sure there is some clinical definition for this behavior but I am afraid I don’t know it.) And being one that understands the mechanics of the thought process that gets me to that point doesn’t help in the least, either… I still find myself falling victim to the behaviors. (My own personal brand of crazy, perhaps?) I don’t know.

I guess it comes down to loneliness causing complex emotional reactions and behaviors. It seems that walking through the memories of my past life can only help so much. Still I cling to them, however…walking through stores decorated for the holidays, remembering the excitement and wonder of the season when I was a child, reliving times when I had family and friends close around me and the laughter and good spirits, watching my child experience these things…is living in the past healthy? Not likely. But it is all I have left in my brick and metal oubliette. It is truly a place to be forgotten. I just hope it doesn’t become a place of forgetting for me…without the memories I don’t know how I would survive.

Well, thanks for letting me rant on about this place. All the suggestions about future blog posts were great and I will see about writing some of those for you.

Don’t forget to thank the person without whom none of this would be possible… Anna, you are a treasure that I am very lucky to be able to call my friend. Thank you so very much!

And thanks, everyone, for stopping by. Happy holidays to each and every one of you.

Ask Tod Anything: Part III

Welcome again to Muninn’s Roost. I am having a lot of fun with all these questions. Thank all of you for being so interested in my situation. Generally, people don’t understand what goes on in a place like this– or understand the justice system at all, really– until they or someone close to them becomes entangled in it. I am happy there is curiosity out there.

And, with that said, let’s get to more of these great questions.

12.) What are some of the silliest or dumbest rules and regulations that govern your day-to-day life? 

Wow, where do I start? They are mostly pretty silly and dumb. By policy, we must all have our trash can in a certain spot. (Oddly enough, it is the only spot in the tiny cage where it is out of the way, and everyone would put it there without that regulation.)

Then there is getting “strip searched” to go to the shower– about 30 feet. After you have handed them all your clothes, been searched, and put them back on, you pick up your bag that has your towel and soap in it. That bag could fit two hand grenades and a pistol, and they never ask to see it, which tells me the strip search is for the purpose of degradation and embarrassment rather than actual security reasons.

The rules they refuse to change– even though they have modified the purpose of the unit– are the ones that actually do harm, though. Where I am housed is an S.M.U. (“special management unit”) and was designed to house people who “have problems fitting into a prison environment”. (What that actually means is that it is a unit designed to punish violent convicts.) So it is a punitive unit in every sense and way. The environment is designed to make people uncomfortable to modify their behavior by making them not want to come back.

Mental health professionals have evaluated S.M.U.’s and have determined that they should not be used to house an individual for more than 6 to 8 months maximum or the mental stability of a person will begin to degrade.

Death row has been in this S.M.U. since 1997! That is nineteen years for those of you who do not want to do the math. And we are not here for punitive reasons. We are here because of the virtue of our crimes on the outside only– this is where death row is housed, and we are on death row, simple as that. So because of that, we are given smaller-portioned meals than someone out “on a yard”. (We are in fact only fed twice a day, while non-S.M.U. inmates on yards are fed three times.) I have not experienced darkness since I got here because the lights are always on. It is purposely kept hot enough in the summer that you sit in your cage and sweat doing nothing, and cold enough in winter that you have trouble staying warm. The list goes on and I could write pages on it but you get the idea. There are lawsuits finally going on concerning medical care…but even that will take years to hash out. So to answer your question, the silly rules one can put up with. It is the ones that are designed purposely to mentally degrade a person that are annoying.

13.) Tell us three things about your daily life on death row that might surprise us. 

Every day runs into the next there. It is very tedious because of its unchanging nature. So I will tell you about me. Perhaps I can surprise you a little bit:

• This “big bad convict on death row” likes to read poetry. I am very fond of Baudelaire and Poe. But I also like Longfellow, Blake, Byron, Coleridge… I find Kipling to be quaint and amusing… I could go on with my likes but you get the idea.
• I am a student of philosophy. (I like to think it…helps?…to keep me from falling too far into the abyss that is insanity.) I stick mainly with the metaphysicians, but I am familiar with all schools.
• And I am an artist. (Not that unusual in prison, actually.) But people say I have flair for drawing pretty flowers. I do draw other things as well, however.

I hope this answer did not leave you feeling cheated.

14.) Not counting lawyers, how many times have you had a face-to-face visitor in the last twelve months? 

The answer is zero! After one is locked up for a while, it seems people get tired of making the trip. (It is a fair piece.) My father was very regular…but he died four years ago this coming January.

15.) How would you want to be remembered by Anna and others in your life after you are gone? 

Likely the same as you want to be remembered by those in your life.

Yes, there are some individuals in prison that thrive on this environment and could live no place else…but most are just people, ground up by a system that is broken and tossed into a cage to try and survive in a world not of their making… a world that cannot be understood by anyone who has not experienced it. Words cannot come close to doing it justice.

16.) Is your execution something you think about daily? 

No, it isn’t. When somebody says, “Haul that one out and kill it!” then it will be my turn. No point in dwelling on it. I actually think that might be a contributing factor to the ones that go truly batshit crazy in this place. In a place like this, it is important to mentally remove oneself from the situation as often as possible.

17.) Have you decided on your last meal and words? 

Anna and I actually discussed this not too long ago, and I will tell you what I told her:

My last meal? I will eat whatever is on the menu that day for the meal. I don’t want those murdering bastards to feel any better about themselves by letting them think they did me some favor or kindness. Execution is nothing more than murder by proxy.

My last words? Don’t know yet. Might be something as simple as, “Slap this horse in the ass; I’ve got things to do!” or I might wax poetic and go on until they stop me. You will have to stay tuned to find out, I guess. I am sure the mood will dictate.

18. Is it unusual for someone to have been on death row as long as you have? Are you unique in being over fifty years old and on death row or is that fairly normal?

There have been four people to die of “natural causes” (whatever that means. I think it’s pretty “natural” to die when they pump you full of caustic chemicals myself.) since I have been here– one was in his eighties! (The funniest, or most tragic depending on how you look at it, was a heart attack while sitting on the toilet!) The longest I know of was killed a couple of years ago after 28 years on the row. (He was almost 80.) No, I am not unusual. There is another in his fifties on my block.

This is why it takes millions of tax dollars to execute someone. They are in the courts for decades! (The last time I totaled it up, the actual drugs cost about $77.00 but that was years ago.)

Talk to your congressman. Ask them why your tax dollars are being wasted when “natural life” means someone never gets out of prison. They die locked up, no chance of parole.

19.) Are you worried about physical pain in your last moments?

No. Pain is something I live with on survival levels every day. (I lived a hard life in the mountains of Colorado for a long time. Been in a motorcycle wreck or two, just “used my body” pretty good. I have a bad back, bad knees, a messed up shoulder…in short, I’m old.) Inadequate medical care means nothing is done for it.  Pain and I are old friends. Besides, as I already said in one of these Q&A posts, I can put up with most anything for fifteen minutes. I am not stressing on it.

20.) To what extent do you find the prospect of life without parole to be more appealing than what you currently face?

Good question… and the short answer is: I don’t. (See the above question as for why.) This is a topic of discussion on occasion in here, and most are in agreement that prison is no place to grow old. In my personal instance, I am currently physically able to work out and I do to an extensive degree, but someday I will not be able to, due to damage to my body from a fast, hard life. When that time comes (if it comes) I imagine I will become very sedentary due to lack of mobility. All the muscle I now maintain around my injured back, knees, etc. will atrophy and I imagine my pain will skyrocket. Not a pretty picture in a place where one is lucky to get an aspirin or an ibuprofen for pain. As stated above… prison is no place to grow old.

Well, I finally got through all the questions! You get a rest, Anna! (I am truly sorry for the voluminous nature of some of these answers. Please forgive me.)

As for my readers… thank you so much, and I am happy that you took the time to interact. I have some good suggestions for future blog posts, so stay tuned! Please, all of you take care.

And please remember, without Anna, none of this would be possible. (Yes, I wrote that and not she.) Again, thank you, Anna. And thank you, everyone, for stopping by the Roost!

The Sacrament

I live in darkness — not a physical place,
Devoid of light — but a darkness in my
soul… a life without light– little meaning
and even less joy.

Nothing is my own — nothing is private,
nothing is secret — fingers, not mine
touch everything — take everything…
chaos — confusion — pain.

Decades this has been my world — no contact
except to be chained — led everywhere
Not even an illusion of freedom is allowed
in a world of shit I do my best to survive…
But sometimes — sometimes

The darkness — I can’t keep it in sometimes.
It screams to be let out– screams only
I can hear — they tear at the very fabric of
my psyche… bend my mind to embrace the
darkness– has it become what is best in me?

I bleed — my sanity runs like blood from a
wound. A face I hardly recognize looks back
at me from a piece of polished steel — a face
Distrusted and bent — is it truly mine? I
feel distorted and bent…

It can be difficult to tell physical from mental
pain… it all runs together somehow… I
wonder if it matters — truly — some hurt
themselves just to feel… what? I can only
imagine. I haven’t made to their level… yet.
Maybe someday.

Someone far more wise than I said: one
should learn to love fate– amore fati–
to have nothing other than the the way it is.
Not only to bear what is necessary to bear,
But to learn to love it.

My fate– darkness– it is illegal to keep
animals in a zoo as I am kept… it is deemed
inhumane — am I less than an animal? A
beast to be locked away and feared… is
humanity beasts?

To love fate I must love all it has done
to me– love the darkness — love the anger,
love the beast…

I must baptize these as
the best in me — will the sacrament be
blood? Or my sanity?