Id like to paint a picture. In my cell there functions a society, a society developed in the barrios of Colombia. We have a list on the bathroom wall that consist of names of the men behind the walls. My name does not change. Others come and go but mine stays the same, a list, a rotation. This is a social dictatorship an economy driven buy drugs Marijuana, cocane, tusi, etc is brought in, 100 g coke here, 250 g Marijuana there, bags of others. A controling patty finances and funds the minions that wrap and package for sale and distrabution. Along the way in our socioty of 18 men. The product is cut, lost stolen and sold by the constituants with in these walls. The police already extracted there cut as product passes from hand to hand, from freedom to opression. From A - Z inflation.
So black to the list, the list of inmates that come and go. It flucuates, inmates, there transition unknown, some short some long, mine without measure. A reality holden from the world behind these bars. A fluctuacion of 15 - 24 James as seasons change. A socioty built with terror and fear. Continualy and ignorantly repeating the past, no hope for intilectual growth outside the tried and true patern of narcótics. The revolving pattern of shit running down hill, the original pyrimid sceam. As the names on the list define a moment in the order of things, a cog in the wheel. Those moments of simple labor had a value. A value that can be tradded for a ball or a baggie. The adictions serving as a natural call to arms. A labor force upon request. Others holding securly there ranks of slavery for the access it provides them. To have or not to have. In a sociory of nothing is the splitting of atmos. The remnants of dust. Still others wait for there hand out. The socioty developed on the entrance fee of a ploom or bump. The rulling socioty of ruthlessness driven by selfpreservation of potential and eminant loss of respect. A labor force up for bid to build your reputation, tour criminal empire.