The Tao of P

You have no story to tell

August 15, 2014

You have no story to tell.

No places to talk about.

No people to name. No words to describe your experience.

You will say Prison with a capital P, like a proper noun. But you will be wrong.

There is nothing proper here.

No person, place, or thing.

There will be places. There will be many places. But those places will never be proper. And none of those places will ever be called a prison.

They will be named for their geography, these places.

Alger, Baraga, Bellamy Creek. Carson City, Cooper Street, St. Louis.

In Jackson, you will say that you’re “locked up.”

And you will answer in years when they ask, “How long you been down?”

Of course, these will also be lies.

You will cling to these lies to allow yourself to think in certain ways. Act in certain ways.

But you will lose your way.

Your way will cease to be.

Their way will become your way. Their thoughts will invade your mind and conquer you. And You, the proper You with a capital Y, will cease to be all together.

Get it together. 

Your desires will consume what’s left.

The desire to give and receive affection will infect you with depravity and self-loathing.

The desire for variety will deliver only more sameness.

And your deepening desire for peace and solitude will echo within your hollow, cavernous soul.

You could’ve avoided all this.

Do you even realize this is your creation?

You were loved once. You were loving and in love. You can almost remember it.

“Things were good,” you’ll think. And you’ll try, but you can’t imagine it anymore.

Did you know me back then?

You have plenty of time. Please, stop and think with me. Did you know me?

I’ll wait.

I’ll be right here waiting for you.

These questions, these memories won’t last long.

You’ll lose them.

They will fade along with your loves and your friendships, and soon you will have nothing.

Only darkness.

Do you feel it? You will. You’re almost there. Just keep fighting.

You’re going to wish you never met me. You’re going to fight me at every turn.

You will hate me. Deny me. Spend years trying to poison me and forget about me, but I will be with you always.

Do you know me yet, Prisoner with a capital P?

Do you recognize me?

I am Mystery. I am Manifestation. I am Darkness.

I am the unimaginable and the eternally real.

Darkness within darkness.

I am the gateway to all understanding.

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August 15, 2024 

I have a bookshelf full of journals from my time in prison. It feels good to have them, but I don’t read them much.

The words and sketches on those tattered pages rattle me.

The preceding 472 words rattle me.

I wrote them ten years ago today, on my birthday, behind bars.

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As dark as those 472 words are, that was a good day.

Today is even better. Today is so much better.

Today is sublime.

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I love you guys! 💖

Stay safe out there. 🤗

—Paul