Inside

building connections on a payphone when the time is limited tentative and expensive
pretending with
friends for benefits and friends with benefits who are really family that’s acting out their disconnections differences and distances

conveniently forgetting you on thanksgiving and Christmases

then every new year, your birthday gets tossed in the shuffle as if they just remembered the imprisoned position you’ve been sitting in since sentencing
still aging through dissonance and dissidence

but you technically grew there
cut your roots there
worn out your boots there
found your truth there
got fractured relationships broken hearts and gaping wounds there,
scars and chipped your tooth there
seen murders, suicides, and burning roofs there

segue, I really miss a cold root beer
in a restaurant choosing the view in the room perusing sitting in a booth chair
present yet able to be so aloof inside of social reality spoofs, proof of the intoxicating spruce of new air

but back to killing connections on global tel link when the other side is guessing intentions
while trying not to seem so dismissive, pretending to be the most attentive and not insensitive
but they aren’t that convincing

though you can almost hear it,
their shoulder twitching, composure fidgets and you’re sorta flinching, wincing
feeling the aura shifting but you ignore it quickly
‘cuz you really need this phone to lift you

it’s just that, you’re so close to falling,
yet you keep talking, facing towards the wall like a small closet that fits you
so you can hold onto any old feelings missed through recorded extensions because when you hang up,
your hang-ups end you back up and back in between fences

where everyone is defensive,
taking everything offensive pretending through everyone else’s pretenses
envision this…

you’re suspended within the air’s thickness
electric with tension
reeling through traumatic instances and reflected images projected throughout the lifespan of systemic judged sentences
then the temperature tends to drift with impending incidents
maybe based on past incidences or just incidental
with incantations of certain slurs mentioned
because everyone is temperamental
so you can’t get caught up being too sentimental
‘cuz calm confident composure is existential
when avoidance or escape is too hard because every threat isn’t only circumstantial,
but residential
you know too well that it’s by design, it ain’t coincidental

misery don’t love company, it just needs an excuse
I should know, cuz usually the miserable are more of a recluse
but it still doesn’t stop them like most people from tending to snoop
just to get a scoop, so they can stop sitting in their own poop
by turning the light on someone else’s indiscriminate truth

segue
that’s called deflection
it’s a psychological survival method
built to project cognitive distortions and emotional objectives you’ve invested
for you’re own protection

now back to wondering of the disconnected connections of prison phones
when new contacts
try not to contract
the dysfunctions you combat
as if you’ve been stricken with covid
as if contract tracing from people who’ve gotten close to you in your past leads them to an obit
wondering how much truth you tell and how many lies you omit
I’m like, damn, am I not suffering enough? you know this
I can tell your thoughts keep you veering focus
who befriends or lends hands to prisoners just to assume them poachers?
this ain’t the land of empty platitudes, all of our closets been pried opened
unless you plan to bear yours, forget mine, embrace context and just live on and stop bringing up old shit

I tell them they’re welcome to go, there’s nothing you owe me
oh, and let me admit,
right now I’m isolated
in quarantine
inside of segregation
because all misery is passed down or passed forth and throughout all my precautions, still I’ve contracted covid…

yea, I know how that sounds,
as if prison isn’t already lonely
but isn’t that what prison is?
isolation
quarantine
segregation?

no wonder I’m in need of affirmations
while weaving through the intentions of people who preside over my incarceration

those that come in treating me like a patient,
choosing the most miserable place as a show of goodwill that’s godly motivated
or just as an income-based occupation

judging my emotional deflation,
eye contact deviations,
blank gazes,
and vocal intonations
while I’m living through demasculinization
and identity castration
practicing spiritual cultivation

as their wrong presumptions of my intellect, rebellious subversion and mental well being seem like innocent or projected character assassinations
to protect their position description and pontifications

guarding unknown or known feelings of unconscious or conscious biases and superior feelings rivaling their lack of experience-
couple with knowledge that has only been educationally graduated
mixed with a savior’s complex predisposed from environments that created authoritative infatuations

so who’s here to help who?
I seem more doctor in a place that houses patients

segue
and I’m a patient,
an inpatient, inpatient made to stay patient

but whose hear to help who?
I seem more doctor in a place that houses patients
for those I call out to, or call out to me-
whom only found me because of my historical lapses of behavior
inside of a system and society that had never done me any favors
it’s crazy how the distance on phones only serve to keep you physically disinfected

but that detachment only makes me wonder

how many of your own infections do you continue ingesting only to blame it outwardly on the person who’s less able to fight the damning disassociations of our systemically created social disconnection?
just because my mistakes have been viewed as weapons
used against me for your own protection
but I’ll take the onus
I’m wrongly outspoken
tearing through relations of recorded cordless phone line connections
one minute left…
before we’re disconnected