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Prose of a Con

Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow

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I’m Just Being Honest

January 20, 2020 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

I’m just being honest tho honestly all honesty isn’t truth

its just what I see from my point of view

its just things I tend to make up

but how can I read a face thru disguises or makeup

I try not to run like your features peering thru wet glass or makeup

cuz those moments I stay we have a break thru and the best make up

diatribes that turn to dialogue, we mesh up

look we human we both messed up

my motto everything isn’t tomato tomato and if u make it to tomorrow then respect the past, or it’ll all catch up

there’s alotta broken promises bridges trusts and relationships I have to hash up

but today its seems people can just move forward with a hashtag

so I wonder if its even worth directly confronting those past issues because the world is moving that fast

beyond the old things that the farthest thing behind, that may serve to remind of any moment

in time is a back pack

holding tested knowledge and lessons learned now they can learn on the go so they may not be doing that bad

or maybe I shouldn’t judge the surface and assume pain lurks deep beneath hidden like it does with me

I can see the fracture, it resembles the same inconsistent way people call themselves getting in touch with me

going back and forth reaching out acting as if I need their company

when in reality they need some from me

you can never fabricate the wrinkles in every piece of fabric, the irony

is that you can see clearly when you step back taking your feelings out of it entirely

realizing you’re in prison but you’re not the only one stuck in the same place going thru pain stunted growth not growth spurts

feel worse in the cold burr

of the night winds dealing with pride stuck in your molar

the wisdom in u is facing the fact that your soul hearts

eclipsed from being able to see why or even look at any reflection of the truth flared like its solar

tho you struggle with your girls or your guys, with the guise of being the one soul that’s supposed to console cuz all u know and your known as an ex-trovert

but any peace of mind is borrowed cuz internally u feel like a lon-er

fixing everything but yourself cuz misery loves company but company continues to get closer and those around u start picking up on the fact that your in need of some kind of closure but u don’t want to expose your

hand, so u fade to the background making up excuses to resist any further exposure

they call and pry while u deny trying to rely on stealthy composure

here it is so many years later and nothing has changed besides the morbid fact of u getting older

and your head hangs lower

eye bags, starring into your iphone or ipad-

and your back has a bulge as u try not to divulge your load within your posture but you’ve been

carrying like a boat, a bulk of baggage upon your shoulders

every pebble you’ve kicked and rock u thrown molded into a bolder

now there’s nothing light enough left around for u to disregard so evading tactics are becoming bolder

u don’t realize that this is the byproduct of dealing with the symptoms and not diagnosing the root

suddenly u respond to every question asked as if every finger is pointed at u and u start spilling things out that u know is just bullshit from a secluded deluded and jaded point of view

then u call it being honest, tho honestly all honesty isn’t truth

looking back at my past

it seems u will never forgive me, cuz u can’t get beyond all that

I swallow my pride, tall glass

u only remember the bad like there was never no good, frequently missing calls whenever I dial

your number, I question if I should cal back

tell me what do u call that

u said u was riding, but now u don’t know where u going u say u just want your car with the onstar back

I get it, I know that its hard but I was hoping you’d hang on like a guitar strap

crypted messages when I tell u I love u instead of saying it upfront, I was merely protecting myself but I know I regret it but I hope u understand, I hope u get it, I’m indebted but I hope u forgive all that

I try and try to tell u I’m sorry, but u never pay attention

never stay and listen

yet forever stray and mention

my mistakes and only state dissention

only make decisions

that u believe will keep u safer, with me staying at a distance

but all your relationships end the same so tell me what’s the difference

pain cures cuz love heals, becuz love reveals what pain conceals so u know pain cuz u know love

but right now u not given up no love

I say I’m not given up, to only receive a response within your cold shrugs

wit a big chip on your shoulders, come on grow up

we grown up

we both got pride, po’ up

how can we say anything but goodbye, showing me your back like centers trying to post up

u play me to your walls like a poster

I try to create a space for us to sit down like a coaster

because standing firm keeps us from getting closer

keeps us from getting closure

we only getting colder

we argue religiously like its kosher

like its our culture

full-disclosure

the more we fight the more it feels like your walls open

like nostrils over a cup of folgers

I wonder if u ever notice

I feel u testing my limits, although pushing creates resistance, these intense moments mirror Your selfies, u seem more in focus

and I’m working on trying to be more present

its just that we teeter on the edge kickin our feet like we seated on the bottom of the moons crescent

and while we’re up here and on edge, I guess its still a beautiful view

I think u like the excitement in fighting, inside u are a titan plus your furrowed eyebrows look beautiful two

its hard to hate u when your’re angry

because its as if I’m observing a Renaissance painting

I’m learning more the more we rendezvous, a natural renegade feigning

a reluctance to the energy spent in love yet u get off from complaining

I see clearly now that that’s your love language

a foreshadowing show of your barriers fading

ridiculing my past was a mask for the fear of the future we’re facing

You never imagined yours being coupled with another, sometimes I wonder how u never cease to amaze me

my 4 seasons for a reason becuz you always change me

Filed Under: Culture, Inside, Love, Mercy, Trauma

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Prose of a Con

Prose of a Con is a collection of Russell Wardlow’s prose and poetry written entirely behind bars. Through writings on family, spirituality, freedom, love, justice, redemption, and vulnerability, Russell seeks to show the humanity and hope of individuals like himself who are incarcerated.

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