As promised last week in Post #10, but sooner than we expected, here is everything you never thought you wanted to know about MFT’s tattoo. I will let him tell you in his own words (mostly).

The Process: Three Attempts at Redemption

I wear my socks low and I used to think it’d be cool to have a solid black skull with crossbones to show over my sock, but it didn’t turn out the way I wanted it to.[1] So I was always trying to think of a cover up, and that resulted in this piece. I never imagined it would turn into something so epic.

Around 2010 I came across a drawing of a twisted headless man holding a sickly child in Juxtapoz magazine. I recognized myself in the picture. Not only was the symbolism like me, but on the night of the murder, I was wearing the same outfit as the headless man—an olive green, double-breasted jacket, black pants, and a tie.[2]

Part 1: The Bunkie

Four years and another prison later, my bunkie had a good hand at tattooing even though he was fairly new at it. I took the plunge and gave him the challenge. We worked together to create the whole design.

But my bunkie went home sooner than expected, before he could finish inking the actual tattoo! He had only finished about 25% of the piece.[3]

Part 2: The Bust

Then I was stuck trying to find another person who could do this level of work, but cleanly and safely like I wanted. I insisted on all my own supplies—ink, needles and barrel—even though it cost more. I found a new guy, but he kept putting it off. Finally, he came to my cell to do it, but after only 15-20 minutes we were caught. Thankfully we weren’t written up, but we lost our equipment. Shortly after that, he was transferred.[4]  

Part 3: No Breaks

More time went by, and I was up any day for a transfer. I happened to come across a super artist, a bit on the Mad Hatter side of the spectrum,[5] but an excellent artist. He didn’t take clients much, preferring to work on his own drawings, but I worked it out with him.[6] Because I might lose this window of time, I went to his cell during chow and stayed until the end of shift (7 AM – 2:30 PM). I had to be out of there before the next shift started. He did a hard-core session and got it all done in one sitting. Straight through. No breaks.[7]

The Story: What Does It Mean?

Throughout my stint in prison, there have been artists wanting to put work on me, but I’ve always declined it. If I ever decided to get a prison tattoo, I wanted it to mean something and have a connection to myself. I didn’t want to be like so many others, putting something cool on me just to do it.

On the Pigment and the Risk

I was concerned about the idea of using soot as the pigment. But I decided that since I was older,[8] and I’d seen all these super old guys with old tattoos still kicking, it shouldn’t make that much of a difference to my lifespan. The soot for the pigment for my leg came from burnt Vaseline or baby oil, I don’t remember which one.

On Conception

“1969”—the date at the top is when it all started. I was taken on a nine-month bender. With an e-ticket to anything and everything, I could taste ALL the colors. But ever since I left my mother’s womb, I left all that behind. I quit cold turkey and never used drugs again.[9] (My parents, drunk and using drugs, conceived me in a spontaneous moment behind a house at a party. She was 14 and he was 18.)

On Trauma and Healing

Needless to say, I didn’t grow up in a fertile, green garden. I have all Ten Aces. The Aces are a way to rate the severity of an abusive upbringing. Doctors have identified a total of ten factors that can influence your growth and development as a child. You can read about them here. And I have all ten.[10] As a growing child, I wasn’t pruned in a way to guarantee a strong, healthy man.

On the Lyrics

“I never wanted to kill. I’m not naturally evil.”[11]—I already had a strong connection to the lyrics in the rest of this song even before that tragic night when I was at my lowest place.

“Gasping, dying, but somehow still alive”[12]—This line describes the headless twisted man carrying a sickly, ghost-like child. As a warped and incomplete adult, I’m now holding and nurturing my damaged inner child, trying to heal and comfort him.

Someday I will be a whole man.

[1] Big surprise, considering he was the wise old age of 19.

[2] My friends were surprised that I was so dressed up just to go to Sizzler with them. I told them it’s my last night on earth, so I might as well dress up for it. I was dressed for my final act, but I was tragically wrong about whose life would end. That night played out in a way I could never have foreseen, and for which I now carry an eternal burden.

[3] Here in prison there are so many people with unfinished tattoos. I couldn’t believe I was now a member of The Club of Unfinished Work.

[4] And I was still in the club.

[5] He was EOP, Enhanced Outpatient Program, a high level of mental health care.

[6] This is MFT-speak for schmoozed. Only MFT has such persuasive powers.

[7] Ouch. Dolly had a hard enough time with four little letters on her ring finger.

[8] In 2014, MFT was 44.

[9] The times his mother and her friends would give little mft a bong don’t count.

[10] All about the Ten Aces: “What are the 10 Adverse Childhood Experiences?” integrativelifecenter.com. 14 Dec. 2021, https://integrativelifecenter.com/mental-health-treatment/what-are-the-10-adverse-childhood-experiences/.

[11] Morrissey. “The Last of the Famous International Playboys.” Bona Drag, His Master’s Voice, 1990.    

[12] The Smiths. “Well I Wonder,” Meat is Murder, Rough Trade Records, 1985.