Disclaimer to readers: This is not a call for money. Repeat. I do not want to eat your heart and hurt you.
One of my captors is always telling me I’m one of the smartest “felons” he’s ever met. And that I’m better than this place. He says he has faith in me and trusts me to make something of myself. I chewed on this and decided if I was to say: “send me $1,000.00 and I’ll pay you back when I get on my feet. Feet you believe will stand.” He’d never do it. No one would. My own mom took my pay checks away from me on payday and if that didn’t crack my will to stand… You see?
And this is why recidivism is so high. It’s this simple. Captives become worried about $20.00 here and there, never shooting for the $1,000.00 trust, as no one trusts $1,000.00 worth anymore. Captives fool themselves into the stereotype that society believes of them. That they use and are parasites. We become parasites. It is like a bad acid trip on a macro scale. All it would take for parolees to succeed is not a $100.00 ‘gate-money’ pay check ad the door. But $1,000.00 and a lease on an apartment paid three months. That would solve almost all recidivism, as trust would be there. Captives’ “something-other-to-lose-than-freedom” would be there. We need trust.
This chapter in this book had a soldier who was confronted with the wife of one of his soldiers’ troops who died under his generalship. She had a sword. A blood price was her due. He dropped his sword, bared his chest and said: “Take what you will.” She put the blade to his heart and spoke: “I loved him. He was my life.” She then put the blade to his hand and sliced his hand. “The debt is paid,” she said.
Everyone thinks prisoners will take hearts from people, when all we need is someone’s bared chest to show the reflection of ourselves in. “Human nature” isn’t going to take hearts. But “human” and captive/parolee/probationer/prisoner doesn’t meld well. It’s the not knowing on both sides that fucks up everything. We ourselves, captives, fear we may just take hearts. How would we know otherwise without the opportunity? Everyone sees us as heart eaters so we become heart eaters, without even eating a single heart. We put on the heart eater mask and society covers their hearts. Ad it’s not even going to stop.
It’s so fucked up to say this but I believe what happens is these outcasts after decades learn to turn the table and call society heart eaters. Then justify the heart eating that a revolution causes. As the old heart eaters, who never ate hearts, eat the new heart eaters’ hearts to prevent heart eating. And I want out of it now. I want someone’s heart bared so I can prove to myself, and that someone, that I’m not a heart eater. And then I need that someone to be there as I live around a society with metal plates on their chests. Metal plates as protection but a protection that is only a target to those who have never beheld an exposed heart.
Right now 7.4 million U.$ captives / parolees / probationers seek hearts. When all religious, mass media, Hollywood, educational institutions, home life family settings, teach how to sport pretty chest plates. The shinier, more protective chest plates become, the more dangerous does the table turning scenario become. On a grander scale all amerikkans have these silvery chest plates as the world looks on. Looks on with their hands gripping the table. Waiting.
On a smaller scale captives sit cemented their whole lives spinning tables on each other day and night. The revolution pops off each hour of every day using sharpened plexi-glass from windows, wire-mesh taken and sharpened off our cages fences, pencils, pens, razors and boiled grease, locks in sacks. The chest plate wearers have manufactured a way to halt the tables being turned on them both internally and externally.
To know this fact is dangerous and this is the reason lethal injection, gallows, firing squad and electric chairs, sensory deprivation exist. By me wanting to eat your heart I. on a micro level, smash the whole ’spin-the-bottle’ bullshit ass game. I’m willing to prove that I will not eat your heart. But you’ll never give me your heart no matter what I do. No matter how good or “realized” you are or become.
You, society, face the biggest letdown out of the two of us in this situation. It is easier to face the fact that jumping the Grand Canyon isn’t possible because others won’t provide the tools, than to believe your whole life that you’ve jumped it hundreds of times. Only to be told you never did. Only dreamed it. Captives need someone’s everything. Every person who’s ever done anything worth doing had other’s everything. Without someone’s heart we become content to spend the rest of our lives knowing we’ve never had anyone’s everything. And we accomplish nothing, happily, because we know the deck is stacked against us. And our story, my story, is the story of every age.
A system, a government, discovers chest plates and stereotypes, then creates an enemy to use them against. Then all the creativity, progress, beauty in life becomes wasted forging chest plates. In building and maintaining enemy stereotypes. Doomed, stale, stagnant, stereotypical, categorized, buried, civilizations.
In Strength (as the tables turn) Love and Struggle