Before I let go...

...of My Road Home, by my friend Jerry Byrne, I want to post one last entry.

(I'm afraid Jerry may be beginning to think I'm some kind of crazed stalker, the way I've been writing to him on Facebook and asking him so many questions. But I can't help it; his book has raised so many thoughts and emotions in me. I just can't believe my childhood friend went through such an ordeal!)

The following post takes place almost a year after Byrne's sentencing, in Mohawk Correctional Facility in Rome, New York. It reminds me a little of the poem, "Howl," by Allen Ginsberg. I found it really powerful. (Again, I reprint it unedited.)

Thursday June 12th 

Continuing the waiting game, silence from Albany has put me in a foul mood. Mail call came and went, not a peep regarding work release. 

If my brain had a bullhorn which could shout out what I'm thinking at the moment, first and foremost would be -- fuck this place! Fuck these guys who wear their pants below their ass, what's that all about, pull your pants up  you piece of shit. Fuck these morons who can't put a sentence together without saying at least one of the following: you heard... nigger... whas up son... my baby mamma... pussy... shit. Fuck most of these assholes back in prison for a second, third or fourth time! Stop selling drugs you fucking idiots, get a job. Fuck these guys who can't walk 10 yards without spitting, and fuck all of them who walk slower than a 90 year old man. Fuck these dudes who refuse to take showers. Fuck all the beggars who come to my cube time and again asking for a shot of coffee and creamer. Fuck these guys who sleep all day and haven't spent a minute of their bid trying to rehabilitate themselves. Fuck the child molesters & rapists. Fuck the crappy food they serve here and fuck the lazy, good ol' boy, overweight C.O.'s who don't do shit for their $50k per year. Fuck the Hispanics who can't seem to speak to each other without screaming at the top of their lungs. Fuck all the muscle heads, lifting weights day and night as if that will help them, in any way, in the real world, read a book, get a clue. And fuck you too Jerry, for fucking up your life, forgetting to count your blessings and ending up here. How could you!