Mans Yard

I hate living in this toilet. But you have to make the best of things..

The room actually resembles a public toilet, that someone has flung a couple of bunk beds into..oh, we have
a few plastic chairs too! Flossin'!
 There is a metal desk, that has a brown tshirt covering it as a table cloth, and on top of that there is an assortment
of books..graffiti, tattoos, self help, japanese samurai novels, things like that..We paid some
guy to make us some shelves the other day too, he assembled them from some cardboard that was salvaged from
a box that housed all the inmates toilet paper, some string, and disposable razors that have been jammed in
between bricks to keep it all up and 'sturdy'..
 The room has a shitload of spanish writing on the ceiling..which one day i'd love to find out what the hell it means..
When i first came into the room, i wasn't doing so good..i would spend hours, days even, staring at the ceiling blankly letting my mind run away into all kinds of negative, unhelpful destructive thoughts..
 This kind of retarded behaviour went on for a long time, i was dealing with a lot of big changes in my life, my brain was coming to all kinds of conclusions and realisations, some days it was all a little too much. Then someone made the beautiful gesture of sending me some books to help me cope with all of this, and it did wonders..it helped me to accept the way things had panned out, accept peoples behaviours towards me, and ultimately understand that not everyone has the same values as me, and as long as i hold people to these same values, i will constantly be let down..
 After these life changing epiphonies happened, i took it upon myself to write some quotes of my own on the ceiling, walls, and anywhere else that wasn't visible to the guards when they do their lame ass walk around checks on the rooms..Once in the room, you can see them all, it looks like someone has lost their mind, which i guess wasn't that far from the truth at the time..
 The room usually has a rolled up jumpsuit next to the door, for two reasons...one for stopping suspicious smells from exiting and sneaking up the po pos nostrils, leading to a one way ticket to Solitarysville Tennesse, and two to stop mice from coming in. Mr Mouse, as he is known, is a sneaky little bastard..i've watched him sneak under the door, and make his way around the room..sticking to the walls, some next stealth mouse! I usually just shoo it out the room, because if Sha sees it, he goes mental and starts tearing the room up, which is hard not to find amusing, especially when that just infuriates him more..no need to encourage him!
 Lastly, my Manhatton yard is on the 9th floor, and my cell faces the front of the court on Pearl Street..i see a big group of people performing yoga...perhaps one day i will be able to join them? Probably not!