The sun came up from the east as usual this morning. I dreamt about the horizon and how the underbelly held the colors of sunrise.
I love these moments. They are limited by number, but beautiful nonetheless.
I love the early mornings when the heavens above are laced with scattered clouds, all powdery and stretched out like the feathers of an Angel’s wings
These things are beautiful—the soft pastel colors of morning in the sky, a gentle breeze that feels kind when the wind blows against my face, and the view we see of our Loving Mother, Mother Earth.
I love it this way—a good, quiet morning.
Perfect.
However, now is a different time and of course, I am currently in a different place. I am temporarily elsewhere, or caged where the sunrise has been taken away and all I have left these moments are the pictures in my head.
It is the morning after Christmas or to me, I see these as days of awe. These days are a time to reflect. This is when I face the mirror, regardless of the distortions or my distractions.
I do this, not because a man of God told me to.
No, I answer because I know that when my true judgement comes to me, I want to answer for all I have done.
The distance between today, the day after Christmas and the New Year is short; however,
The days between now and then are spent as a time for atonement to me.
This is important and yet this is a hard time of year for me. But as long as I m
living and breathing, I am equally growing, even if I have outgrown my tiny space or the people, places and the things which surround me.
I know . . .
I know that I have outgrown my place in this world. I know that Purgatory looks to keep me confined and the beast will always look like to hold me back or keep me stuck.
It is apparent to me now, especially after the demons, and the dogs, the guards, and even the Beast have kept me trained and held up here in solitary confinement.
I see that they used unfair tricks. And I see how they used their mind-control and psychological tactics with smoke and mirrors to confuse me.
And I get why I fell for the tricks. And I get why I’ve invented a few tricks of my own.
But in the end –
None of this is real. Not even this prison cell.
None of what I believed is true.
My past loves were not lovers at all.
No one ever loved me (except for you)
Yet, the mind sees what the mind sees and although there is only one truth; it is easy to slip away or become lost to an internal lie.
And sure, I’ve lied.
And I’ve been lied to for years or more like decades.
It is easy to lose sight of one’s truth when we fall for the tricks that distract our attention.
I took the bait too many times.
I may be alone –
But I know what love feels like
And I know why I love her.
(I mean . . .you)
Hence, this is why I choose to face myself. This is why I choose to atone for my sins.
The days of awe between Christmas and New Years Day are very real to me. This is a time where I contemplate the life behind me as well as the days ahead.
I consider where I was when my father, The Old Man, was while he was resting in a hospital
bed, awaiting his final departure.
There is a punishing cruelty when life ends, —and the fact of the matter is none of the clocks stopped and no one else skipped a beat.
There was no moment of silence or even a moment to regain my composure and process what happened.
My Father died . . .
I remember the morning when The Old Man passed away.
I remember a bread truck drove down Merrick Avenue and passed my house because as always, the bread truck was out to make their deliveries.
The traffic lights still worked. The television went on and off. There was no special announcement about my Father on the news and there was no warmth for the hand or time to handle the fact that my first hero was dead and gone.
He passed. . .
But we had to bury him.
The Old Man died, but business went on as usual.
Bills still need to be paid.
Life still moves . . .
I suppose the hardest times were the times when there were no distractions or there was no one around.
I suppose the hardest place to be is stuck in our heads when we experience sadness or the bitter and painful truths that death itself comes without remorse, —and time moves, because no matter how we are or what we feel, the sun goes up and down
No one pauses and nothing stops. No one else frowns or smiles, unless the news pertains to them; and even still the cruelty is time keeps moving.
However, the truth is time moves and eventually, we can either heal or pick the scabs so that our wounds can endure and remain alive.
Time can hurt when all you want is one more second with someone.
But no, moments like this are when time keeps moving. Time moves like the angry tracks of an enemy’s tank as it crushes over the skulls and bones of all our mournful tragedies.
How can life be this way?
How can someone be alive and then gone, just like that?
It is years now, or more like decades and even still; I look at the days between Christmas and New Years which reflects the time when my Father passed. I look at myself in my figurative mirrors, distortions and all.
What have I done?
What have I left unturned?
Have I made him proud?
Or does he look down on me with regret and shame?
I don’t want to be a disappointment anymore.
I ask myself, why did I fail the most wonderful people this world has had to show me?
And why am I still here?
Why am I still locked up in this cage? And why have I volunteered to be this kind of prisoner to the Beast.
Or why do I continue to interact with the wardens, and why did I allow myself to fall from grace when I knew there was something better in my path?
It is not too far behind me to see where I went wrong. And equally, it is easy to see where I turned left when my heart knew that I should have gone to the right.
I swear that I will never do that again.
I am here to pay for my convictions. I am not choosing to face this or my demons to please the courts or even my accusers.
No.
I am here because hell has come for me all too frequently and I have fallen for the tricks all too many times.
Hence, now.
Hence, I am lying still on my bunk, looking upwards at the flatness of a blank ceiling and dreaming of the sunrise as it grows from the east.
I am picturing what the sunrise looks like at the beach at Point Lookout and how the sun reflects against the surface or the ocean.
I am thinking about the need for penance and to be forgiven and to be absolved of my sins.
And yes, it is within me to sin.
It is within me to self-destruct.
it is within me to go along and coincide with the serpent, like the one who tricked Adam and Eve and caused their deaths after eating from the forbidden fruit from the tree of knowledge.
I have to stop the thoughts from spinning in my head and keep the gears from churning out of order.
I have to stop and rest myself from my own destruction and whether my faith or my spirit is intact, and regardless of whether I go home justified or find myself continued here, in solitary; I have to detach from my history.
I have to let go.
I have to disconnect from the people, places, and the things that drive me crazy.
Yesterday was a good day.
Quiet.
All was placed where it was supposed to be for me.
There is something so beautiful about the silhouette of a beautiful girl. And, too, I admit there is something amazing which takes place when I think about the curves of her body, —or wait, I think about the way streetlamps glow against her face while I drive her in my car.
I love the look on her face when she is pleased with my touch.
I have a lot to pay for. I have too many questions to answer. But I have so much to live for. And even more, I have more reasons to find my freedom, or to break through the steel that keeps me in.
I will do this so that I will find her, that I will love her, that I will marry her, and whenever the moments allow, —I will make love to her at least once, every day, from now until the hour of my death.
I was asked by the Beast—
Why are you even fighting?
I told him, because I have hope.
He asked, what if your hope becomes hopeless?
I answered his question with my own.
Have you ever seen the most beautiful girl in the world?
He answered, I’ve seen every kind of beauty known to man and beyond.
I told him, well, I’ve seen the most beautiful girl in the world, and until you’ve seen her and want to make her yours, —you’d never know what this feels like, but to me, all I want to do is please her, touch her, love her, and oh, dear Beast, trust me; the list goes on.
“You know I can destroy your dreams, don’t you?”
I answered the Beast, “I know you’ve been trying to have me kill my dreams and myself for all of my life, —but somehow, I’m still here.”
The Beast answered, “And so?”
I answered, so . . .
You haven’t killed me yet.
You haven’t stopped my dream or my desire.
In fact, I want her more now, each day.
And each day, I’m still going to want her more than ever before.
“There’s no place for her in hell,” responded the Beast..
no . . .
She is an Angel.
And I get that.
But for now, and no matter where I am or how far apart we are, —she will always be my Angel, even if I have to battle the fires of hell for her, —then so be it, because I love her.
I do.
I love her with all my heart.
I love the curves of her body.
I love the feel of her chest against mine.
And when she talks, I love the vibrations I feel in my spine when she speaks.
I will see her on New Year’s morning, with me—walking the beach like I did with my Old Man.
She is the most beautiful girl in the world
I swear—
so help me God.
“I can make her hate you.”
No . . .
Only I can do that, and after all these years in solitary; I will never fall for that trick again.
“We’ll see,” said the Beast.
Bet your ass we will.
No one can stop my love for her (you)
No one –
Not the hounds of hell as they chase me down, not the devil, the demons, not the tricks of Satan.
Nothing will ever stop me
You’ll see
The Written Addiction 