Prison Radio
Spoon Jackson


This life, a collection of sweet and bitter memories. The dreams are fantasies, made up of forgotten tomorrow that may be played out or remain forever lost, deep within the deception of the mind. What’s wrong? She asked. Why are there no smiles?

If I was on the streets, it would be different. My heart doesn’t know that for love has no boundaries, no time, nor place. So how can there be rules to govern the flow? How can what is limitless, be binded and bound? It will flow when you allow it to be, to be.

I do not imagine you to be a lovely sunset. I do not imagine you to be a lovely wildflower in a rich green meadow. I do not imagine you to be a sweet summer’s day. I imagine you to be such as you are; and you are love. The heart and spirit tire sometime, if only for a moment, from being so full of love and having no outlet to truly share. For being denied the magic of a hug for so long. A hug that will juvenate the heart and spirit, like a roaring tempest wakes to a drought-stricken land.

Stop asking how to convenience what’s wrong. Your heart and spirit knows. Today’s made up of yesterdays and tomorrows, and tremendous amounts of love seeking a hug. No words, no smiles, no stares. What can be said or done, when one is denied a hug for so long. For I choose not to be lonely. But loneliness has chosen me.

(Sound of a cell door closing.) These commentaries are recorded by Noelle Hanrahan of Prison Radio.