As I sit here in this cell or whatever it is, I find myself wishing that they would come and get me and take me to prison. I say that, because all of this weirdness around here and all of the foulness I see, I don't know where I'm at anymore.
Lately, I haven't been talking on the tier anymore. I know that there are at least 20 protective custody inmates locked down on this tier right now, sitting in the hole with me. What I don't know is how many of them are informing for the pigs or how many of them are sitting back and listening to everything we say. So, lately, I've chosen to stay quiet and alone. It would be nice if there were a couple conscious prisoners close to me, there would be plenty to discuss. But, they've got me stranded and strained up right now and I don't have nothing to prove, therefore, I have nothing to say.
The prisoners are so friendly with the police around here, it scares me.
The foulness disgusts me, disturbs me, makes me sick. I hate this place. this place used to be my stomping grounds. I've sent many pigs away, either bleeding or covered with feces, and yes, they had it coming! I've done deeds that could be bragged about for years in this setting, this place. But I know if I had a reason to lash out and do something to these pigs right now, the prisoners around here would look at me like I'm crazy. they wouldn't understand the concept of standing up to the man, no, not on this tier.
I sit up in this cell and I read, I study, I write, I keep myself busy and I apply my knowledge as often as I can. fuck this place, these people, fuck what they think, fuck what they do, I gotta shake it off and continue to be who I am. I can't explaln how much this place fills me with disgust. It has become sickening to be here. I need to get out of here, I need to cleanse my soul, or get high, or something, cuz it is becoming very very difficult to deal with this madness.
If there's someone out there who's reading this, someone who cares, pick up a pen and write to one of the prisoners who has placed an article in this zine. Show us some love, give us some encouragement, send us some books, help us rise above this madness. We need your support. we need to have real contact, communication, and truthful relationships-meaningful connections with people on the outside. We've been cut of from love, society, life, community, family, and friends, and been confined to a corner of coldness and darkness. We need your support. We need your compassion.
From the depths of these dregs, Coyote
Ely state prison, Nevada 2008
If you would like to write me, I can be contacted at this address:
Coyote Sheff #55671,
P.O. Box 1989
Ely, NV 89301-1989