The Only Way Out is In.

[Shit]

"Yes, you actually can bend iron bars with your mind.  You can do anything.  Just don't forget God." --Professor Xavier

"Only those who risk going too far, can ever find out how far one can go"  --Chico Xavier



The world is full of iron bars and gray walls.  They are my workshop of clay and metalurgy.  All I did was wink at the Devil after a few beers and then shmoked shome shrub, which then catapulted me into the raw, naked mud where we had belly sex 'til my back broke, and then the sheriff saw us, and well, to make a long story short, that's why I'm here.  The black iron prison.  I used to think this place was like Walmart, but now the walls are receding into the world of seeming demons that are just a heartless monster in the tin man of society.  Somewhere over the rainbow, there is a black sun spiraling through a galaxy lost in the dream.  It is the maze of delusions that really are just a house of cards in the maniac's mind.  It is all a dream, but that doesn't mean it's not as stark as a Silent Hill nightmare.  The air is horrible in prison, a symptom of global warming in the heart and soul of square civilians in cold prison bunkers.  A hurricane could come again soon-- just another prison riot in the heart and soul of humanity.  Terror is lost in the cold-steely eyes of envious men who can't see that this black iron prison is just a regular paradise, with coupons.  Apocalypse is the clang of metal at lunchtime while death row inmates daydream morbid fantasies about the taste of the city.  At least my sentence ends in 2012, when the mutant ram and his magical horsies come to save the day.  Kaloo kalay!  The prison will break when we start believing in it, and know it to be just a dream.  Do you believe in dreams?  Do you even know that you're dreaming?  Do you know how to control your dreams?  It's easy.  You just be your dreams.  Do you know how to bend iron?  It's easy, because there is no iron.  This is a hole I have dug, with a metal spoon.  It is the way out of prison, and it is the hole of my own grave.  It is grave danger beyond those prison walls, but I will survive beyond my time.  Alcatraz couldn't hold me.  Gitmo couldn't hold me.  A prison built on Saturn run by Governer Schwarzenegger's evil twin couldn't hold me.  "Keep digging that hole, Ben." is what they used to say to me when I had my foot stuck in my mouth.  Glad I listened, because there is an escape, and the hole I have dug is the portal to paradise.  There is an escape.

The only way through is out of my mind.

The only way out is in.

Or fuck me.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

You have some really great lines in there, but I think a little more lucidity would hold your reader's interest better. It's a little word salady; a series of images of questionable relevance that don't really add to the punch line.

Remember, there is a difference between making your reader THINK, and making your reader WORK. You want the former. If you make them do the latter you've already lost them.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

You have some really great lines in there, but I think a little more lucidity would hold your reader's interest better. It's a little word salady; a series of images of questionable relevance that don't really add to the punch line.

Remember, there is a difference between making your reader THINK, and making your reader WORK. You want the former. If you make them do the latter you've already lost them.

Um, Benny's here because he's not all there.  I've learned to filter his stuff, and it contains some really good ideas mixed in with his insane gibberings.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

You have some really great lines in there, but I think a little more lucidity would hold your reader's interest better. It's a little word salady; a series of images of questionable relevance that don't really add to the punch line.

Remember, there is a difference between making your reader THINK, and making your reader WORK. You want the former. If you make them do the latter you've already lost them.

Um, Benny's here because he's not all there.  I've learned to filter his stuff, and it contains some really good ideas mixed in with his insane gibberings.

Oh, OK.

[Shit]

Sorry about the drool.  Sometimes I prefer to think of this place as more of an asylum than a prison, but these walls aren't padded.  Ouch.  Maybe an asylum could be a whole 'nother project.  However, I think I'll spare a moment of temporary sub-lucidity so that I might make this more palatable and intelligible to the discriminating reader.  It is a good idea for a title, but the essay kinda derailed the train of thought that night.  
So here's something more prim and proper.  Maybe you'll like it.  It is interesting.

The warden hasn't been easy?  I don't know why you guys even try to escape.  This prison is a veritable spa.  You don't have to worry about paving your own way in the world.  The walls are solid cement.  You barely even need a name.  You're just a number, and you may even accrue fame and fortune as a licence plate artist.  There's also lucrative career opportunites picking up trash.  Somebody's got to do it, and you might get house arrest for good behavior.  You're fed the fastest of food, and they even let us smoke.  You don't even have to think.  There's a real television and a fantastic bible for anybody who wants one.  I can hardly believe that some people want out of here.  Those who do try to escape become fugitives, shot, or they have to go to their room and sit in the corner, all alone.  I bet it's a regular paradise island in the 'room' too.  Nothing but the rats to disturb your sweet slumber.  You could even be fortunate enough to cut in line on death row if you're on real good behavior.  Nothing like the coffin suite.  But the more you try to escape, the thicker the walls become.  There's not much air in some of these 'rooms', and the sinks are browner than the toilets.  I guess I can understand why you weaklings would whine and whimper.  You were weakened because you tried to be strong.  You thought you could escape it all.  There's no real escape from the black iron prison, except maybe for one little avenue of dissent.  Promise not to tell anybody?  There is a hole I've been digging in the corner of the room.  You don't see it?  That's good.  Neither do the gaurds.  You don't see it because you're looking through the eyes of the world.  You only see what they want you to see.  If that's all you want to see, be their guest.  You can enjoy endless reruns of 'Cops' and maybe even get married to 'Bubba' someday.  I know you've had your eye on Bubba.  But now you know, there's a hole in the floor.  You don't even want to believe it's there.   Can't say I blame you.  It's almost comfortable here in the world, imprisoned by a great and terrible machine.  The machine is just a dream, but they don't want you to know that, because it is the machine's only weakness.  If you try to escape again, you'll be a fugitive, and you might get caught, then chained to the warden himself.  The warden's cute too.  You'll have to let go of Friday night freedom fries and Saturday visitation rights.  But once you're through, there is a real freedom, where there are no walls anywhere.  You won't care about this paradise retreat anymore, because you'll have access to a Heavenly resort.  You'll find that Wonderland is more real than concrete.  You want in?  Grab a shovel and start digging.  You don't even have a spoon?  The shovel is only in your mind, and you have to escape your mind before you can escape this prison.  How do you go out of your mind to get that shovel?  The only way out is in.  The shovel is merely your will to break down all that binds you and beats you, but you've been wasting all your strength trying to find it.  You don't have to even lift a fingernail to shovel your way out of here.  The only way out is in.  When you find that this is all in your mind, you won't need a shovel.  You'll need a shrink.  The walls are padded in the asylums.  But you'll escape from there too, because nothing can bind the hole that I'm shoveling.  Not even Bubba.  Not coming?  Enjoy your black iron wedding.  See you on the other side.

[Reginald Ret]

that was great, even.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Needs white spaces.  It looked good, but it's hard to read.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Was good! And yes, needs some paragraph breaks for readability.

[Shit]

Okay.

The Only Way Out is In

The warden hasn't been easy?  I don't know why you guys even try to escape.  This prison is a veritable spa.  You don't have to worry about paving your own way in the world.  The walls are solid cement.  You barely even need a name.  You're just a number, and you may even accrue fame and fortune as a licence plate artist.  There's also lucrative career opportunites picking up trash.  Somebody's got to do it, and you might get house arrest for good behavior.  You're fed the fastest of food, and they even let us smoke.  You don't even have to think.  There's a real television and a fantastic bible for anybody who wants one.  I can hardly believe that some people want out of here.  

Those who do try to escape become fugitives, shot, or they have to go to their room and sit in the corner, all alone.  I bet it's a regular paradise island in the 'room' too.  Nothing but the rats to disturb your sweet slumber.  You could even be fortunate enough to cut in line on death row if you're on real good behavior.  Nothing like the coffin suite.  But the more you try to escape, the thicker the walls become.  There's not much air in some of these 'rooms', and the sinks are browner than the toilets.  

I guess I can understand why you weaklings would whine and whimper.  You were weakened because you tried to be strong.  You rebelled.  You thought you could escape it all.  There's no real escape from the black iron prison, except maybe for one little avenue of dissent.  Promise not to tell anybody?  

There is a hole I've been digging in the corner of the room.  You don't see it?  That's good.  Neither do the gaurds.  You don't see it because you're looking through the eyes of the world.  You only see what they want you to see.  If that's all you want to see, be their guest.  You can enjoy endless reruns of 'Cops' and maybe even get married to 'Bubba' someday.  I know you've had your eye on Bubba.  But now you know, there's a hole in the floor...  

You don't even want to believe it's there.   Can't say I blame you.  It's almost comfortable here in the world, imprisoned by a great and terrible machine.  The machine is just a dream, but they don't want you to know that, because it is the machine's only weakness.  If you try to escape again, you'll be a fugitive, and you might get caught, then chained to the warden himself.  The warden's cute too.  You'll have to let go of Friday night freedom fries and Saturday visitation rights.  But once you're through, there is a real freedom, where there are no walls anywhere.  You won't care about this paradise retreat anymore, because you'll have access to a Heavenly resort.  You'll find that Wonderland is more real than concrete.  

You want in?  Grab a shovel and start digging.  You don't even have a spoon?  The shovel is only in your mind, and you have to escape your mind before you can escape this prison.  How do you go out of your mind to get that shovel?  The only way out is in.  The shovel is merely your will to break down all that binds you and beats you, but you've been wasting all your strength trying to find it.  You don't have to even lift a fingernail to shovel your way out of here.  The only way out is in.  When you find that this is all in your mind, you won't need a shovel.  You'll need a shrink.  The walls are padded in the asylums.  But you'll escape from there too, because nothing can bind the hole that I'm shoveling.  Not even Bubba.  Not coming?  Enjoy your black iron wedding.  See you on the other side.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Excellent! I really like this piece.