Post by twistedangel on Sept 22, 2013 4:28:29 GMT -5
I think it's fare to say that meself an forward thinking, have never been great mates. I could use a lot of excuses but the reality is, I'm lazy. I guess it's easier to follow than to lead, then blame the leader when it all goes wrong.
And wrong it did go. But then how else would it ever have gone ?
Now I have paid my debt. Six months in Holloway prison. Not a place I recommend to spend any kind of time trying to re-evaluate yourself, or worse have others do it for you. I hated being told by various 'specialist' social wotevers, how me decisions (or lack of) had brought me here. Mostly cos I knew they were right. Its a bitter thing to be forced to look into that mirror.
So the doors finally opened, deemed as rehabilitated and good enough to rejoin society once more. Six months. Could of been six years. The door slammed behind me, and that was that, done, free...so now what ?
We are all creatures of habit. Habit, repetition, familiar, safe. So I find meself walking down the estates road back to me little flat. I feel conscious, I feel watched. This once familiar safe ground, my patch of earth, yet now its different. Like a deer I'm feeling apprehensive, nervous, yet nothings changed and I don't understand why I feel this way.
3 storeys up, last but one door on the left I see a light on in the flat. So he's not left or found a job. I'm kinda disappointed, not that he's not left, but I was somehow hoping I'd have the place to meself for a while..you know, like chill a bit get me head straight before all the welcome home crap starts and the "Lets go down the local an celebrate" shit that I know is gonna come.
So instead I escape for 5 minutes. I sit on a bench outside by the play park, where announced to the world in most beautiful calligraphy in black biro that apparently Selenna is a slag. Good for her. I light a pre-rolled rollie, taking some deep drags try and get my time to meself in this moment since it aint gonna happen at home.
Home. What a beautiful word. Safe word, familiar word, whoever invented it knew all about being at home, it oozes warmth, bringing to mind that other saying 'Home is where the heart is'. Well then, this has never been 'home' to me, just some place I happen to live in. Maybe we all here think this way an thats why it became such a shit hole, and why no one seems to care.
Opening the flats door I'm met by a strong smell of skunk. He says we're to broke to replace the peeling wood chip wallpaper unyet he can afford to buy an ounce of weed a month. I should feel something about that statement but, dunno when but I guess apathy killed any rage a long time ago. I turn the light off in the little hall an open the lounge door in front of me. Thin brown curtains are still drawn, he's asleep with some tart on the sofa, both naked and over flowing ashtray full of blunt butts nestles in the company of empty and half empty beer cans on the floor. He looks dead, and she from her face I can't tell if she's young an stupid or old an desperate. I look quickly in the mirror above them to see I fair any better, I look tired is all I see.
I fling open the curtains as daylight rushes in, they both immediately jump off the sofa. He looks mystified not knowing where he is, she looks frightened and embarrassed, desperately searching her clothes while trying to hide her modesty. I throw her her jeans and top from the dining chair, she goes to say somthing but before she does I just tell her to "f*ck off". She does.
He starts saying something but I'm far from listening, looking outside onto a world I should of left behind me. With my back turned "You to". A minute later the front door opens then closes.
So what now ?
And wrong it did go. But then how else would it ever have gone ?
Now I have paid my debt. Six months in Holloway prison. Not a place I recommend to spend any kind of time trying to re-evaluate yourself, or worse have others do it for you. I hated being told by various 'specialist' social wotevers, how me decisions (or lack of) had brought me here. Mostly cos I knew they were right. Its a bitter thing to be forced to look into that mirror.
So the doors finally opened, deemed as rehabilitated and good enough to rejoin society once more. Six months. Could of been six years. The door slammed behind me, and that was that, done, free...so now what ?
We are all creatures of habit. Habit, repetition, familiar, safe. So I find meself walking down the estates road back to me little flat. I feel conscious, I feel watched. This once familiar safe ground, my patch of earth, yet now its different. Like a deer I'm feeling apprehensive, nervous, yet nothings changed and I don't understand why I feel this way.
3 storeys up, last but one door on the left I see a light on in the flat. So he's not left or found a job. I'm kinda disappointed, not that he's not left, but I was somehow hoping I'd have the place to meself for a while..you know, like chill a bit get me head straight before all the welcome home crap starts and the "Lets go down the local an celebrate" shit that I know is gonna come.
So instead I escape for 5 minutes. I sit on a bench outside by the play park, where announced to the world in most beautiful calligraphy in black biro that apparently Selenna is a slag. Good for her. I light a pre-rolled rollie, taking some deep drags try and get my time to meself in this moment since it aint gonna happen at home.
Home. What a beautiful word. Safe word, familiar word, whoever invented it knew all about being at home, it oozes warmth, bringing to mind that other saying 'Home is where the heart is'. Well then, this has never been 'home' to me, just some place I happen to live in. Maybe we all here think this way an thats why it became such a shit hole, and why no one seems to care.
Opening the flats door I'm met by a strong smell of skunk. He says we're to broke to replace the peeling wood chip wallpaper unyet he can afford to buy an ounce of weed a month. I should feel something about that statement but, dunno when but I guess apathy killed any rage a long time ago. I turn the light off in the little hall an open the lounge door in front of me. Thin brown curtains are still drawn, he's asleep with some tart on the sofa, both naked and over flowing ashtray full of blunt butts nestles in the company of empty and half empty beer cans on the floor. He looks dead, and she from her face I can't tell if she's young an stupid or old an desperate. I look quickly in the mirror above them to see I fair any better, I look tired is all I see.
I fling open the curtains as daylight rushes in, they both immediately jump off the sofa. He looks mystified not knowing where he is, she looks frightened and embarrassed, desperately searching her clothes while trying to hide her modesty. I throw her her jeans and top from the dining chair, she goes to say somthing but before she does I just tell her to "f*ck off". She does.
He starts saying something but I'm far from listening, looking outside onto a world I should of left behind me. With my back turned "You to". A minute later the front door opens then closes.
So what now ?