Monday, 10 January 2011


As i sit on my bunk,
teeth brushed, face washed and lights out,
 another day down...

..People in here like to say
"another day closer to freedom"
..I don't quite see it that fact, i find it EXTREMELY INFURIATINGLY ANNOYING,
and as soon as someone says it, who ISNT 6ft, i'm gonna beat shit down their leg..real talk.

 I didn't smoke cigarettes before coming into jail.
It's the only thing at the moment that relaxes me and calmes my nerves..
 A nice 'germ' and a cup of tea, lovely jubbly :)

 "If all goes to plan Timdog, we'll have some crack in these soon"


 "For real?"
"If i have anything to do with it kid"

 Well i guess that's SOMETHING to look forward to, right?
If there was ever a time to smoke Crack do the math..what
the FUCK do i really have to lose? REALLY?!

 As i am writing this, i'm listening to freestyle jazz, trying to ignore Sha's ever increasingly loud snoring..
It really is SO fucking loud..

 To combat this, i'm back on the medication..why the fuck not..
It helps me sleep.

 Saying that, sleep has turned into a double edged sword for me recently..

I Always dream. ALWAYS.
 Usually of being with my freinds and loved ones..
Whether i'm catching jokes with my buddy Alex, causing havoc at the 12bar with the B6K Showermans,
or talking to people i've lost contact with over the years..It is nice.
 These dreams are comforting, and make me happy..give me hope, and remind me that i have
people out there who share love for me.

 More often than not, this isn't the case though..
It's more likely my dream will be a flashback..
 Being back on the streets of New York..something that is no longer possible.
That or i am in the company of my (soon to be ex) wife, and none of this nightmare
ever happened..I am back in Brooklyn, with my buddy Dave, or at my old job on W37th street,
being Timothy Ozer Guvercin..being happy, living my life..

 Instead, i wake up in my cell..located at MCC New York in Manhatton.
Not living my life. Certainly not being me. Just a number. 63906054.

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