Death Row

Such a peculiar place. They have us locked up in here, separate from each other to prevent us from killing the other even though they counting down the days till we hang. I say, let a man go with dignity. Let him go giving his fists one last taste of blood. Instead, they got us locked in her like steer waiting for slaughter. We bulls who no longer useful to the herd and need to be put down. To say I don't like it would be an understatement.

He comes the same time every night. His club tapping across the bars sporadically just to wake us up. I know I belong here, hell I'd put me here if I had to, but there should be a cell for him to. That club of his had tapped more than just bars, a few skulls and more than a few assholes have the scars to prove it. Not mine though. He know if kill him. Id welcome the beating they'd give me, aft least it would break up the day, maybe even be my final day. Like pop always said, once you at the bottom, you don't gotta fear going down anymore.

I know hell is waiting on me. I can hear the fires in my dreams. Am I terrified? Shit yeah but only cuz I haven't been yet. I ain't afraid to say I afraid. Honesty isn't something I lack, my doctor said. Compassion, empathy, those were the things lacking he babbled as they lead him out bleeding. His ear never did look right again after I took a chimp out of it. I didn't do it cuz I'm crazy or cuz I wanted to hurt him, though I did enjoy it. No, I did it cuz I wanted to get put here. In death Row.

Now, I done many crimes that warrant me being strung up but I didn't get caught for them. No. I ain't a idiot, contrary to popular opinion. Rather I'm what you would call driven. I'm driven to complete whatever I set my mind to and I set my mind to get thrown in here in Texas on this day I needed to be here. The voices tell me so.

Now, I know what you're probably thinking, paranoid schizophrenia. Naw. At least I don't believe so. I believe the voices to be real. They knew things I didn't, things I couldn't. They told me to be here, in two hours, and told me exactly how to do it. Again, I ain't crazy. I'm driven. There's a difference. See, these voices know something about some people I'm trying to find. They know where they live, who they fucking, where they drink, and where the buy their fucking bread. I want them bad. I need them. So I listen to these voices even though I know hell is waiting.

I don't care though. I don't care that I have essential sold my soul to things I haven't even seen yet but no need to fear drowning when you're already at the bottom, right? So I'm here, and that club is tapping closer. The lights are out but I can see his shadow growing even in the dark. He is one of them, or was anyways. He was one of the voices that called and now he's here as flesh and blood. The others, they say to wait and they shall provide. A care package from below as a trade for killing him. He's just outside the next cell down. Sweat builds on my brow in anticipation. My muscles flex and relax smoothly under my skin, pythons waiting for the heat of the kill. He's getting closer now. I used to doubt they could provide. There was a time where I would've not believed that they could do what they can but hallelujah call me a believer.

Who's freedom

Who's freedom do you fight for? Who benefits from total freedom? Do you believe the altruism of man will shine through if given the chance? You are a fool if you do. A fool with eyes closed and ears plugged with the lies the sell you. Freedom isn't free. I won't brandish any of our propaganda on you, I see that it has no effect, but the sentiment is true. Freedom isn't free. Freedom, true freedom, costs the lives of the weak, the broken, the old, the unlucky, the migrant, the woman, the child. It costs the lives of those who don't have the arm to strike back against the dark, the teeth in the night. The path to freedom is paved with the bodies of "Patriots" but the foundation is the meek.

We offer order. We offer structure and stability. We offer a wall too the anarchy of freedom. Freedom is an illusion made by those with means to rise above the squabble for necessities. Those with the power, the money, the muscle to take what they want will do so and freedom only lubricates the machines by which they do it.

You may think me a monster, a totalitarian whose heart stopped beating long ago, but I am not. My heart bleeds for my country. My heart aches for those in need for those under the boot off freedom. We offer a way out. There is peace is routine. There is plenty in the shared state. Can you say the same for freedom? Look upon the ghettos of Ivasar. Do you see a good life there? There is no police to protect the weak from thieves that steal what little they have at night. There are no courts to prosecute the deranged that take pleasure in others suffering.

That's freedom for you. Chaos. Bloodshed. Anarchy. Will you not stand with me against the fallacy of freedom? Will you not stand against injustice?



This is a little speach I thought of while watching Noisias song Tommy's Theme. I liked this notion that maybe the police state believes they are actually doing good. I always hate where the "man" is always blatantly evil. I would like to explore the dramatic irony that maybe their violence is "right". That maybe things aren't always black and white. It's kind of the monkey paw wish thing. Sure you get what want, but at what price.