Digestion

Incarcerated. No longer will I wonder what will happen to Me, this is it. I am relived.

The television in the apartment was left on last night. The busted door will earn me the bain of my stingy landlord. I wont see him again.

Call me Herman. On the street glanced at by others I could by any other name. It's not what I should be called. Now my name has turned into a prisoner number. I will get no trial. I didnt even make a stop next to the drunk tank.

They wanted me out of the way. Those men in the black suits and the wires in their ears. I dont blame them, this is my dessert.

I write letters. They are all sent through the postal service. I have no computer no typewriter all are in my handwriting. I have sent hundreds ever since I became alone. A stamp on the paper to me seems more important than email or fax.

The content of most reveal my anger. I am disgruntled and everyone knows that now. Newspapers,TV stations,politicians and public figures. They have all had to put up with me.

A week ago a letter went overseas, from my hand. Written in blood.

The bullet I recieved when I was in Iraq entered the outer side of my cheek. There it commence to worm around and exit my face, destroying my nose. I was at war for two days. Then after six months in the army hospital and many failed plastic surgeries I came home.

Out of consideration I wear a mask. Not a William Shatner that Mike Meyers wore In the movie Halloween, Nor a goalie mask. Just simple transparent white cloth. I have many and keep them clean. My complexion is flawless.

Thankfully they let me wear this in prison. It hides my expressions. With my face as it is not too many people could read me anyway.

My rage is now my undoing. My pen has turned into a bullet that will finish me.

I wrote an open letter to the warring factions in Iraq. Now they know what has happened to me. How I am alone. How angry I am.

I said I represent the common public of the United States. I was selfish and wrong. I am not a diplomat and the words I stated were all taken literrally. I was in their newspaper. I have the copy now in my cell. There is another copy of todays Washington Post. Both are disturbing to me.

My letter stated how I wanted belligerents to stand down. To think about what they are doing. To change their views. Adopt the best of the western Ideas. All people equal. Free elections. Denounce terror tactics. I told them what I thought would be good for their country. The factions didnt agree.

The attack at the hotel was well planned. It was thought security was adequate in the heart of Bagdad. The large conference room was surrounded and three soldiers lost their lives in the raid. There are forty of them in black masks.

They want to make an exchange. I wish I changed my wording in that letter. Something less offensive. Meek if you will. It wouldnt have ended up in the newspaper, just thrown in the trash.

Todays Washington Post read about how I was caught (I was going to surrender anyway). How theres hope for the thirty two hostages. Most of them I read were reporters and diplomats having a fundrasing dinner for a poor community in the southern part of the nation.

This carnage ends now. I will go. I will die.



To be continued. Thanks for reading!