A Hole Within a Hole

by Incarcerated Flavors

In a hole, within a hole, inside a prison is where I dwell- the Special Management Unit at USP Lewisburg. Days to nights, nights to dawn. I roll out my rack to the sight of nothing. “How did I get here?”, I ask myself. Is there anything I would have done different, you might want to ask. Only a FOOL thinks not. Trouble is in the fact that I am here and what I could’ve, I should’ve but didn’t… The tiny space I call home allows me a few feet before I am at my door peeking out of a rectangular shaped window that permits a view to a blank tier and adjoining cells. This particular prison was constructed in 1932. Its concealed conditions are inhumane and utterly unpleasant. Anywhere but here, yet this it. I take the bitter with the sweet and swallow that which destroys me innermore. When I go, will I return? Already I am fearful of the future. The number of those who reenter continues to climb. First, I must make it home. Wall to wall- hardly enough room to shape my physical- I push up as if the weight of the world rests heavily upon my shoulders. When I can go no more, I go further, harder. The associated matters, which modify my course of development provoke me to exert the force within. One of the few positive pushes permissible and, for now, it’s this or staring at the walls in effort to impede the ever-tightening grip of this unilluminated dungeon. From down the tier I hear the cries of another inmate. Although I can place no face- “LET ME OUT!”, he wailed. His sanity gone forever. What he was going through I know so well. Had I not been afraid of my cries falling on deaf ears, I too would holler LET ME OUT!!! –

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