MM, i love you like a father

By Christopher Deraleau

 

MM* i love you like a father, and this is the update. one thing you told me to do that i will never as long as i live forget, was to live well, be that as the best vengence in a world full of monetary & political scandals and debaucherous blood-thirsty hyenas these people, and that is exactly what ive done over the duration of this last cycle of what one would call freedom, but the definition of freedom exists differently in the many eyes of billions of beholders around the planet and beyond, each belief, code or creed seperate from the next. one once said something to the tune of, "give me liberty or give me death" and with that, the hypothetical hand of my revolutionary heart is more then raised. do bear with me as i indeed intend to, with acute detail, spill every drop of blood there is to be spilled here, with warning that i do tend to use a high volume of run-on sentences, for what can a man of my caliber say, save his favorite author, when weighed against many tome writing juggernaughts, always seemed to be Cormac McCarthy. not much i figure, and i did watch a video of him speaking, glass of gin in one hand, and an old tabacco pipe in the other, he's exactly how youd imagine.. without further adue, welcome surrogate father of mine, into another tale, another flicker in the candle light of time, shining on the real life American horror story which encompasses me, though i write this with a smile, for this is one of the most beautiful, heavy, vibrant, resiliant chapters to date for this war-trodden soul.... read on, if you dare.... they say Hell is a hot place, and that it might very well be, but hell is everywhere, its anywhere, creeping in and aound each and every corner on this planet, as for me, hell has over the last few months, been a hostile winter wonderland, one that puts the lamented 1500 whom expired, God rest their frozen souls, in the icy Atlantic during the sinking of the Titanic to some sort of mental emotional shame, atleast to me. the eye of the beholder. for i say these things , as terrible as it was , death sat in in just under an hour... this death ive experienced, has been a deathless death, an endless trek, a death like only men the likes of you and i know, the falsly accused, for i assure you yet of another savage truth, the ravaging tentacles of the American justice systems reach extends far beyond the cold walls of the deadly federal institutions weve walked amoungst....upon release i was to live with my mother, here in mount vernon ohio, a place where, at first glance, i can promise you, did not seem like the place where a major motion picture could absolutely take place, and take the place in peoples hearts around this world to a very sacred special place and situation if, taken on this very journey here with me, would be left speechless and could change things for people around this world desperate for salvation while running in every direction but towards truth, light and understanding and forgiveness. the opening credits, flowing in and out in some sort of angelic wave, about a boy born in Dallas Texas with a story so compelling, so painful and sorrowful, undeserving in every way what was dealt him, the fact that the boy, now a man resiliant, but not because he is older, but wise in the face of evil, and now even if it meant understanding that his own family and " friends" also the ones that on one hand can say we love you, we are here for you, hearing your story, smiling at you looking into your eyes as you cried, bearing the most sensitive aspects of your entirety to these people who only were there to judge you behind empty eyes with no faces just contorted smiles truly fake from first glance and throw you away easier then the cigarettes and beer bottles they toss into the trash or the dark cold streets that were better friends and aquaintences to me then they ever couldve been, for atleast empty and lonely as they may have been, there was some truth in those cod streets, bearing some true direction to some destinaton, for good or ill, there was truth in them for atleast that. these people mock your constant death, can turn right around and slit your throat and spit on your name, and talk all about how bad of a person you are, leaning on their own understanding.

 

MM* means Mayor Mark