in death we have a name

No one in this world knows anything about anything.

How do I know who I think I am?

Am I who I think I am or am I who I think you think I am?

Or am I who I think that you think that I think that I am?

This car doesn't go fast enough.

Black.

I can't tell if I am dead or not.

Red.

The red is everywhere

Red dripping into red

Flickering red

Just red.

I am standing.

The road seems longer when you walk down it.

I turn around and look at the remains smashed into the tree.

Does the tree know? Does it care?

I turn away from the tree and realize

I am who I have always been

I am who I need to be

I am who I want to be

I can't tell if I am dead or not

First you learn, then you let go.

Requiem For A Dream

“Is something wrong?” she asks

I look down at my plate and contemplate the question, as if there is ever nothing wrong.

“No” I lie.

I can’t even tell what was on my plate a few minutes ago; everything is smashed together in a spiral design from my fork. Not that it was a very attractive food when it started. I’m sick of eating it.

“Daddy, can we go to McDonald’s tomorrow for dinner?” says my daughter. Her concern mimics my own; the resemblance in our plates is shocking. I don’t respond; I just look down avoiding eye contact with anyone.

“I don’t think so sweetie, but maybe some other day.” she says, as if that day will ever come.

I get up, throw my plate away and walk over to the counter. The paint is peeling off the walls and rust is building where the counters meet the edge of the wall. I grab my pill bottles and take each pill individually. When I put them back I see the receipt. 400 dollars for a month’s worth of pills. The only money left pays for the apartment. I look over at my daughter; she isn’t smiling. She shouldn’t have to live like this, I’m holding them back.

4 hours pass and it’s almost like I never left the counter. I’m sitting in front of the tv, but it’s off. She doesn’t even ask me if I’m coming to bed anymore, sometimes I fall asleep on the chair watching the blank tv.

This time I decide to walk into the bedroom, I don’t change or shower, I just get into the bed. We lie there for hours; eventually she rolls over and looks at me.

She looks deep into my eyes for several minutes, as if she has never seen me before and says “I miss you.”

 I look back at her and say “So do I.”

I look over at the clock and it’s six in the morning, time to get up, but I never slept. I get up, change my clothes and leave in silence. I walk down the street past the jail and look in one of the windows. The people inside are eating breakfast, the people inside are eating a free breakfast. They don’t pay to live there; they don’t pay to die like I do.

I keep walking, but slower. One of the parking meters is broken and lies in pieces on the side of the road while someone tries putting it back together. The metal pipe that holds it up lies a few feet away from the man fixing the meter. A police officer is walking down the sidewalk towards me. Time stands still as a look from the pipe to the man to the officer. I pick up the pipe incredibly slowly. The man turns around and asks me what I am doing. I take two steps toward him and bash him in the head with the pipe. It takes him hours to fall to the ground; I don’t even notice the pipe slip out of my hand. People are shouting and the police officer starts running towards me. But I don’t run away, I just stand still with my head cocked to the side watching the man fall the ground. The officer grabs me and pushes me towards the prison gates, I go willingly, but I look back at the man on the ground and then back to my apartment building. I am far away but in my mind I can see inside it. The paint smooths back onto the wall, and the rust begins to disappear. As the officer pushes me through the gates I can see my daughter looking out at me through the window.

She is smiling.

Generosity Killed The Cat

June 25 - 11:30 - Mossy Oak Road

I killed him.
I had no choice - in my mind. He stole my future and destroyed my past. Now all I have left is an empty gun and a hollow shell. The events streaming through my memories are like a bad movie with a huge budget. Everything went according to plan. I knew he would be alone. I came in through the back door where the lock is broken. The artificial lights in the room cast artificial shadows all over the floor. I heard footsteps coming towards me. I didn't hide, what was the point of hiding? He's going to die whether he sees me or not. He walked in front of me and I pulled the trigger. I was gone before his body hit the floor.
Like clockwork.
I thought it would change things, make things better. It has done the exact opposite. I turn the rear view mirror away so I don't have to look at myself. As my mind comes back to reality, I realize that its snowing extremely hard outside. I keep driving and I see a set of headlights coming towards me. As they get closer, the car attached to them starts to swerve on the ice. It spins completely out of control and into my lane. The front of the car rams into my drivers side door. Its instant darkness.

June 25 - 11:30 - Mossy Oak Road

I dont understand why she's so unhappy. I guess some people are naturally sad. Oh well, she'll be alright. The earth can't function without rainy days. This blizzard is very difficult to drive in, I can barely see where Im going. The car jerks to the left and I barely avoid hitting a car coming in the other direction. Clearly the lines on the road are non-optional. I hit a pothole and lose all control of the car. Im swerving out of my lane. I see another car coming right at me. I cant steer the car out of the way, we're headed for a direct collision. The comedic side of me cant help but think, "I hope this guy wanted to die."

Funny how things work out.

the cherry tree lies in ruin

The following was written by an inmate on death row. It has been prepared for citizens to read. Some parts have been edited for security purposes and several sections have been removed completely.

June 24

In this depressive state, sleep becomes like a drug. I sleep when I'm not tired to get away from the pain. But I'm afraid to sleep because the nightmares are horrific. The artist draws beautiful pictures of forests, only to be burned down later.
Tomorrow is the day. The clock mocks me in my anguish. The minute hand flies past while the second hand stands still.
Where's my Carton?

June 25

The dominoes have all been set up for this day. Sometimes sinking ships just need to be abandoned - sometimes. It's a strange feeling to want to be dead, but not to die. There is nothing left of me but memories and thoughts. The seams are stronger than the fabric. I haven't left my bed in days, I haven't eaten either. What's the point?
When you sit around for days with nothing to do but think about your life, all your successes become insignificant. All I can notice are the smudges on the paper. I've got the forgive, but I can't seem to manage the forget.
I just wanted a chance to say goodbye.

The Boy And The Hurricane

The boy stands in the eye of his hurricane.

The wind whips around him,

And the thunder deafens his ears.

As he walks out of the eye into the storm,

The pressure becomes too great and throws him back.

The girl stands in the eye of her hurricane.

The wind whips around her,

And the thunder deafens her ears.

As she walks out of the eye into the storm,

The pressure becomes too great and throws her back.

Through the hail and the debris,

The boy sees the girl.

He can see her sitting on the ground,

her clothes are torn and her makeup is smeared across her face.

Her tears are clear, even through the rain.

And she is beautiful.

The boy begins walking towards her.

The sleet and hail pounds him to the ground,

So he crawls.

The water builds up and floods around him,

but he looks at the girl and keeps going.

He is broken and bleeding, but within arms reach.

The girl notices him.

Her eyes are smiling but her face is empty

He reaches out and touches her hand.

The sun peaks out through the clouds.

But the water continues to rise

And the storm grows worse

He grabs her waist and holds her against him

The lightning strikes all around them,

But he doesn't let her go.

A chunk of hail falls and hits her

She is knocked unconscious 

But he doesn't let her go.

A dim light shines in front of the boy

A man shouts out to them

The boy can barely see

but he picks up the girl and walks towards the man.

The storm continues to pound them,

and the boy hopes the girl will make it.

When he gets to the light, no one is there.

He looks around, but there is no man.

The storm is behind them now, so the boy sits down

Still holding the girl in his lap

He nudges the girl but she doesn't wake up

So he waits.

The boy sits with the girl next to the light for days

Every so often the boy nudges the girl, but she doesn't wake up

So he waits.

Time flies past, the boy loses track

And finally the girl stirs

She opens her eyes and he stares into them

She sits up and looks around, the sky is clear, the sun is bright, and the air is beautiful.

She looks back at the boy

His face is covered in dirt and blood, his clothes are torn and he has bruises all over his body

But he is smiling.

They stand up, and she takes his hand.

Together, they walk back into the storm.

Jack's Savior (Part 3 of 3)

They say that "In this life, we're set to fail." I do not disagree with this statement, but I do think it is unspecific. Failure is never an option, but giving up always is. Whether its true or not, I am experiencing it right now. I am lying face down on the road, there is blood everywhere. After a few minutes of disorientation, I realize that the blood is mine. I look up and see a large amount of flashing lights and the silhouettes of people standing around me. My whole body is sore. My skin feels like its on fire.
A wall of fire.
Now I remember. The car exploded. Suddenly, my body is rolled over onto a stretcher. I am picked up and put into an ambulance. The doors to the ambulance close along with my eyes.
I wake up on a bed. Everything I can see is bright white. I must be in a hospital. I look around and see that I am handcuffed to the bed. That's not normal. They must know who I am. As I fully regain consciousness, a male doctor walks into the room. He is talking about something, but I'm not listening. The name on his name tag says 'Jack'. I leap out of the bed, forgetting that I am handcuffed to it. The entire bed flips over. I pick it up and slam it down on the chain attached to the handcuff. The chain breaks like a raw noodle. I run at Jack, punching him with every ounce of my strength. After a few minutes, someone notices the commotion and runs into the room, pulling me off of Jack. The police shortly arrive and throw me in the back of their car. But I don't mind now.
The deed is done.

They don't take me to the prison this time. They drive me to a mental institution. When we get there, I am escorted to a padded cell. They strap a straight jacket on me and leave me in there.
Here, loneliness takes on a whole new meaning. The only people here are me, myself, and I. And occasionally the janitor walks by, whistling show tunes from "The Sound of Music". Two weeks go by in this cell before they finally let me out. They bring me to a break room where they sit me down and talk to me about my case. After an hour of discussion, they leave me alone for a while.
The janitor wanders in and offers to show me around the institution. I'm sure it does against the rules, but I oblige and walk with him. He knows this place inside and out, knows every story of every dent in the walls. When we get to the sound-proof cells, he offers to show me inside.
"A marvelous feat of engineering" he says. I take a few steps inside and look around. I hear the door slam closed behind me. The door is locked shut and the janitor is staring at me through the window. I run to the door, slamming on it, telling him to let me out. He just shakes his head and stares at me. After a few minutes of futile efforts, I stop. He opens the small slot used to push food through, and I ask, "Who are you?"
He responds, "My name is Jacob Samuels, but you probably know me better as Jack."

He walks away, and the impact of this sentence crashes down on me like an atomic bomb. I stand motionless in awe and wonder. Two months later they find my body, but it was too late.
My life had been over the second I opened that mailbox.

Jack's Savior Epilogue

I keep having the same dream in which I am standing on a small wooden boat in the middle of the ocean. Across the water, I can see Jesus standing on the water, beckoning me to him. I start walking towards him, but everytime I do, I fall into the water. One time I got most of the way across, so far that I could almost touch his outstretched hand, but then his smile faltered, and I was consumed by the waves.
What good is forgiveness if you can't forgive yourself?
The idle mind tends to sink.
Prove me wrong.

Jack's Savior (Part 2 of 3)

Jail isn't so different fron the real world. There are people everywhere, and yet I am all alone. I sit here on my "bed" thinking - just thinking. I don't know how I got here, and I am hopeless to do anything about it. But as I think about my situation, my hopelessness turns to rage. I have to get out of here right now. I have to find Jack. I didn't forget you. I never will.

I decide to leave my cell. Maybe I can find some sort of exit. As I walk the perimeter of the inside of the jail, I find one emergency exit door. It's rusty and locked shut. The lights around the door have all burned out. I don't think anyone knows that this door even exists, but it is still locked. I know that the guard who passes by my cell everyday has the keys to everything. I walk back to my cell and wait.
After two hours of waiting, the guard walks by. I walk after him. He slows down to turn a corner. I fake a sneeze and slam into him, pickpocketing his keys in the confusion. He looks at me like I'm a freak, (but everyone does, so that's normal) and walks off. I make a bee-line for the rusty door. The lock clicks open on the third key. After a minute or two of pulling on the door, the rust gives way, and I am free.
Of course, free never really means free. I'm all alone with nowhere to go, and no money. Financially, I would be better off in jail. But I have a job to do, and I will finish it. I need someplace to hide though, this bright orange uniform is not helping me at all.

As I am aimlessly walking around in the middle of the night, I see a car. It's just sitting there, no one around, key in the ignition. It's almost like someone wants me to steal this car.
I get in and turn the car on. It works fine, so I drive off into the night. This Jack guy has to be somewhere with access to the Anthrax virus. The CDC is the only place I can think of with the disease. Luckily, it is not too far from here. I pull over at a rest area to take a break. I notice that there is a large trench coat in the backseat; perfect for covering up my orange uniform. I put it on. It fits very well. I can feel something in the pocket. It's a folded-up piece of paper. I open it up and read it.

Hello again. You are quite the clever one, but maybe not so clever. If you want to find me so badly, then I will bring you to me. All you have to do is stay right where you are.
-Jack

All of a sudden, my car explodes in a massive ball of fire.
The fire consumes my body and I black out.

Jack's Savior (Part 3 of 3)

They say that "In this life, we're set to fail." I do not disagree with this statement, but I do think it is unspecific. Failure is never an option, but giving up always is. Whether its true or not, I am experiencing it right now. I am lying face down on the road, there is blood everywhere. After a few minutes of disorientation, I realize that the blood is mine. I look up and see a large amount of flashing lights and the silhouettes of people standing around me. My whole body is sore. My skin feels like its on fire.
A wall of fire.
Now I remember. The car exploded. Suddenly, my body is rolled over onto a stretcher. I am picked up and put into an ambulance. The doors to the ambulance close along with my eyes.
I wake up on a bed. Everything I can see is bright white. I must be in a hospital. I look around and see that I am handcuffed to the bed. That's not normal. They must know who I am. As I fully regain consciousness, a male doctor walks into the room. He is talking about something, but I'm not listening. The name on his name tag says 'Jack'. I leap out of the bed, forgetting that I am handcuffed to it. The entire bed flips over. I pick it up and slam it down on the chain attached to the handcuff. The chain breaks like a raw noodle. I run at Jack, punching him with every ounce of my strength. After a few minutes, someone notices the commotion and runs into the room, pulling me off of Jack. The police shortly arrive and throw me in the back of their car. But I don't mind now.
The deed is done.

They don't take me to the prison this time. They drive me to a mental institution. When we get there, I am escorted to a padded cell. They strap a straight jacket on me and leave me in there.
Here, loneliness takes on a whole new meaning. The only people here are me, myself, and I. And occasionally the janitor walks by, whistling show tunes from "The Sound of Music". Two weeks go by in this cell before they finally let me out. They bring me to a break room where they sit me down and talk to me about my case. After an hour of discussion, they leave me alone for a while.
The janitor wanders in and offers to show me around the institution. I'm sure it does against the rules, but I oblige and walk with him. He knows this place inside and out, knows every story of every dent in the walls. When we get to the sound-proof cells, he offers to show me inside.
"A marvelous feat of engineering" he says. I take a few steps inside and look around. I hear the door slam closed behind me. The door is locked shut and the janitor is staring at me through the window. I run to the door, slamming on it, telling him to let me out. He just shakes his head and stares at me. After a few minutes of futile efforts, I stop. He opens the small slot used to push food through, and I ask, "Who are you?"
He responds, "My name is Jacob Samuels, but you probably know me better as Jack."

He walks away, and the impact of this sentence crashes down on me like an atomic bomb. I stand motionless in awe and wonder. Two months later they find my body, but it was too late.
My life had been over the second I opened that mailbox.

Jack's Savior (Part 1 of 3)

Its not normal to want to run INTO a burning house, but I'm not a normal person. I'm standing here in handcuffs watching them burn my house to the ground, wanting nothing more than to run in and be burned down with it.

4 Hours Previous:

Mailboxes are so stupid. Who sends mail anymore? And yet, some people do, so here I am, going to check the mail. There's a small white envelope. Inside is a letter and a small bag of white powder. The letter reads:

Hello, my name is Jack. I'm telling you my name because I want you to remember me. Will you remember me? I think you will. I think you will because inside that bag is a half a kilogram of Anthrax. But don't worry, I didn't tell anyone about it. I did however, call the police to tell them about the other 6 kilograms of Anthrax that I have stashed inside your house. Now, the way I see it, you have two options here. You can run into your house right now and try to find all of it before the cops get here, or you can bring me $100,000 to the loading dock behind the K-Mart. Make it quick, I'm watching you.
Love, Jack


There really is only one option. I dont have a hundred thousand dollars. So I take off back to my house. I burst through the door and start ripping things apart, looking for bags. After about fifteen minutes of frantic searching, I finally find one bag. If each bag is half a kilo, then I only need to find... 11 more bags....

I can hear sirens in the distance. Now I have two options. I can keep looking, or I can get the heck out of here.

I think I will leave now.
I smash the back door open and tear through the yard. The cops are getting out of their cars and running after me. I get about a half mile before they catch up with me. They slam me to the ground and handcuff me. They walk me back to my house. When we get there, there is another cop standing on my front porch holding two bags of the white powder. They identify the powder as Anthrax and ask me how much more is still inside the house. I tell them there is probably 9 more bags. They talk amongst themselves for a while and then come back to me. They say that the threat is too great, and that they have to burn the house. They also notify me that I will spend the rest of my life in prison.
They dont bother to take me anywhere. They just leave me here watching as they burn my life to the ground. The fire is an awesome spectacle. The heat must be unbelievable, and yet my skin is cold and clammy as they push my back into the police car. We drive off down the road, our path is lit by the flames.
I won't forget this.
Even the smallest match can start a fire.


3 Days Later:

A man is walking down the street in front of the burned down house. A charred piece of paper floats in front of his path. He picks it up. It's almost completely burned. He can only make out one sentence on the whole paper.
It reads: "Will you remember me?"