Lockdown

Trade-Off to Make This Life Manageable

Artwork By: Shain Parwiz

Sitting cross-legged.

Tea to my right.

My worn-out copy of Black Coffee Blues in hand.

Vinyl crackles.
Needle wobble.
The warm hiss.

A Love Supreme starts playing.

It’s been rough.

Working on myself:
Internal, external, everything between.

Sometimes I need a kick up the ass.

That’s what I got.

Yes, I’ve been softer.
Never mistake that for weakness.

I can still turn up to 12 and annihilate.

This isn’t a threat.
It’s a vow.

I keep this thing,
This flesh-walker,
Locked down.

Solitary.
24 hours.
No rec time.

There’s no “old” vs “new” me here.

More like all of me
That’s been denied parole.

I hear the guard coming.

Keys jangling.

Humming some crappy tune,
Repetitive, mundane,
Designed to rile me up.

I go to the door.

He opens the slot.

It creaks.

Lazy fuck.
A little WD-40 would do the trick.

He serves the gruel.

I take it.
Consume.

Fuel to keep this thing going.

I could escape.
Easier than you’d think.

I know the routines,
The layout.

Just need to pick my spot.

The air is musty,
Like clothes not properly dried.

How fortunate are those
Who live life wide-eyed and innocent.

This is my reality.

I accept it.

For now.

Not penance.
Not paying dues.

Just existence.
To make life manageable.

Just for now.

Just till they slip.

The moment they do,
The moment comfort breeds complacency,
That’s when I’ll strike.

That’s when they’ll learn.

It’s always been,
At least for me:

Antecedent.
Behaviour.
Consequence.

Now I see the behaviour.

Almost grinding my teeth to dust.

I lay back on the floor.

A smile etched on this face.

Imagining the surprise
When I introduce them to consequence.

Author’s Note:

I show restraint not because I am a saint. I do it because I fully know how capable I am of fucking my life up. It does feel like I’m locked down at times. I just hope not to be pushed to the point where I have to break out.

-Shain