|
Other essays on this theme
Essay: "Isolation and Solitude"by Dustin O. Clark A man screams down the hall, something about ‘shades of death, fragments of what used to be.’ Another man tells him to ‘shut the fu*k up it’s 2 AM.’ They both go silent. My cell is dark and cold. No windows. This is Texas High Security Super Admin. Seg. No windows in the cell, no cell-mate to pass the long boring hours… nothing but one man telling at another to ‘shut the fu*k up’ at 2 in the morning. I am in High Sec. Super Seg. because I got caught with a shank I was planning to use on a rival gang member who had snitched on one of my bros. Am I sorry? Only that I got caught and sent to this dark place. Ironic, I tried to send a man to his grave and got sent to mine, this concrete tomb, God have mercy on our souls, it is 2 AM….
|