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hell on earth

The Gates
The Gates

Andy Smythe lives in The Catoundra Boulevard in Cessnock Jail and he would like it to be known that in a few short days he will be opening and closing his own doors.

He apologises for leaving the crew guessing as to where he disappeared to twenty years ago, and he hopes that all bad debts are now forgiven, or forgotten.

Andy Smythe’s face is a roadmap of scarring and the deep sorrow in his eyes reflect no mercy, he jokes most bitterly about the upholstery rooms’ blind warders and the nailgun paybacks.

He sits on the hard wood of that otherside bench, the one beyond the armour glass, that rapine barrier. A week from release, courtesy of the Governor, courtesy of AIDS.

Andy Smythe is the compliant wife of Prosecutors, Judges, Warders and Lawyers.

Bikers and Jokers.

– and now, freed up at last, Andy Smythe has his eye on the Kimberley after a quick trip east; to that granite furnace where he wants forever out, forever.

Serve your Hell here on earth –

And in time Heaven may draw you closer to me.

Written on the back of a roadside sign at the Fitzroy River Crossing, where he was told to look.

Strange shit that, thought Andy speeding on through, as he breathed in the oven air of freedom.

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