I find it painful and angering to look in a mirror.
My eyes, my brain seek out escape routes wherever I am sent.
Nothing is over and done with. Nothing. Not even your malice.
I escaped one time. In 1971 I was in the free world for six weeks.
As long as I am nothing but a ghost of the civil dead, I can do nothing.
To be in prison so long, it's difficult to remember exactly what you did to get there.
One morning I woke up and was plunged into psychological shock. I had forgotten I was free.
I have been desperate to escape for so many years now, it is routine for me to try to escape.
There was never sufficient evidence presented at my trial to support a finding of intent to kill.
That is how prison is tearing me up inside. It hurts every day. Every day takes me further from my life.