A Prayer For The Condemned

When I was a young boy I did not realise why prisoners often became so muscular.

When I was a young boy I did not realise how closely a Man’s muscles could be associated with despair.

I know I created this situation. I understand the mechanics of how it happened. I accept full responsiblity and know that one day I will answer to God. I also know that I will never really be able to explain why, other than to point to the thing that makes people do crazy things.

Now the only thing left for me to do is to continue piling on muscle.

Everything has once again led me to the same dark alleyway.

For the one millionth time in my life, I am seeking refuge in a visual display of very extreme Hypermasculinity.

Nobody fucks with a Man with muscle. People do not even make eye contact most of the time.

It makes for a solitary existence. But there is peace to be found in the solitude.

There is a sort of self-realisation in reverse which happens when Men like myself pile on muscle.

There is an acceptance that from this point forwards people will only ever see the bad in you. There is an understanding that God is never going to make what you did go away.

It was not until adulthood when I fully understood how closely muscles could be linked with shame.