My prison is my pleasure. The penal system mimics the legal system. What I fear and loathe is the unrestrained, the unconstrained, an unchecked flow of shit, of sperm, of words. You see, my punishment is my pleasure. "Go to your room." I love my room; it protects me from unrestrained flows that would carry me away. Life in prison is seen as preferable to death; it is better to be painfully restrained than it is to lose all restraint.

My pleasures and my pains depend upon restraint, depend upon "No". To conceive a system from the flows of desire is to negate them, to act against them. Since all that is, is desire, I conclude that implicit in the flows of desire, is the desire to restrain. I am the product of the desire to constrain, but I experience here, in my sumptuous cell on Harris Creek, the desire to dissolve and flow out between the bars. I am simultaneously of two minds.

A life sentence ends with a period; death. The Capital Punishment is not avoided, only delayed. But my punishment is my pleasure. It is Sunday on Harris Creek.