The criminal

Was it the criminal who coming home bent on revenge who says now what he did is between him and God who sold you off to those worse than he who fractured you’re mind because you wouldn’t commit a simple rape at gun point, so they made it worse, glowing rebar, can’t do that, you’re refusal to commit these horendous acts lead to the electrical pain, the emotional pain the psychotic split that finally broke you yet you still would not. It seems like the people, the people you had no idea had sold you down river, the people you’d told so many people what good people you thought they were, it seems like, and you hear, that these people have shot themselves in the foot, planted a bomb to blow up in their face.

I never did and it bemused them, it changed them, someone willing to stand up and put up with anything rather than transgress to that extent on another. Next thing I know I’m rich and on my way to the outskirts of Illinois at the age of 13. I should have known sooner, earlier, when his name came to me during an LSD trip at 18 and I looked him up on Napster and he was there. My girlfriend told me to leave it alone and forget because she didn’t want to know.

I have nothing to do with that…nothing. Next thing I know I’m jumping off a hurtling boxcar because I don’t want to end up in Iowa. I was rich, cared nothing about money, was the youngest kid there and yes was angry, yes I wanted to bring down the government after my experience walking into the local FBI at my age. Yes. I did. But what I watched on the news at 18…that horror…no…those two figures holding hands as they jumped from the top floors, that second plane coming in…no sorry. Just a mislead underage anarchist on an acid tour with too much money to burn is what. What’s what? Because I don’t even know how “what’s what?” came into my lexicon.

Fry me. But fry me for ■■■■ that’s right and true which a mind can’t be wrapped around for a mind can’t be that open until it’s enlightnened. Am I? I don’t know. I’ve lived my life in a 3 dimensional world in which though I lived loved and laughed some I couldn’t make a headsway’s head in hell through, whatever that means. As much as I knew about the world intellectual or philisophically, I now realize I never stood a chance.

At the age of 32? Hell no. Too much.