The Writing´s on the Wall

"Fuck the Police". These 3 words can be found everywhere in these madhouses. Fuck the police, scribed on the walls, fuck the police, scratched into the desks, fuck the police, carved into the bunks, fuck the police, etched into the doors, etched into our minds. Fuck those slimy, greasy bastards, fuck them pigs.

That is the first commandment that we live by in here, the golden rule, as we live in these volatile situations, hostility towards our captors is the fuel that keeps us going. The correctional officers are the police, they work for the system, the government, so they're pigs too. The rats, the snitches, the informants and the inmates on protective custody, they are the police too. They work for the man, cooperating and operating against other prisoners, though they are prisoners themselves. In this world, that makes them the biggest pieces of shit around these shit-filled sewers. Not even the pigs respect them, they're cowards, and they are the police too, so fuck them.

This is prison, this isn't Disneyland. People aren't playing, not everybody is friendly around here, there are some people around here who would stick some steel in your neck, without blinking an eye, then go walk back to the table, sit down and eat their meal, or your meal, like nothing happened. This is prison.

Fuck the system, that's what we say when we pray, cuz that's what we feel in our hearts. We know this ain't right, we know it's foul, we know we're being screwed, cheated, manipulated and deceived. We know it in our hearts. Fuck the system.

We live with so much hostility in our hearts, it's what motivates us to stay alive, but it's a double-edged sword as we continue on the path of SELF-DESTRUCTION cuz we do not truly understand how we can actually rise above this madness, we do not truly comprehend how we can escape these chains and live truthfully.

All we know is piracy, banditry, hoodlumism, thuggery, and gangsterism, that's all we know as we sit here and say fuck the system. We don't ask ourselves, or each other, how can we organize ourselves in here? We don't ask ourselves, or each other, how can we elevate ourselves in here? We don't ask ourselves, or each other, how can we live truthfully, how can we get free and rise above this oppression? We don't think about these things, because we don't see the possibility of these things, as we are blinded by our own ignorance and blinded by our own violence towards one another, we can't see past our own futile situations, all we know is that we have to survive, so we don't get cheated or shorted or knocked off by the next motherfucker.

But the writings on the wall, for those who want to read it, it's right there, etched, sketched, scratched, scribed, carved or written, it's right there. Three words, fuck the police, it's right there, written on the wall, desk, bunk, ceiling, floor, it's right there.

EI Coyote