Monsters are real and they are created by Other people and they live in the mirror in the prison that is my mind.
I look up at night and the red glow of the Power button on the Monitor floats up the wall in the shape of a Skull in the prison that is my mind.
Darkness isn’t a Lack of light; it is Form and Movement, free, flying across the ceiling in the prison that is my mind.
I am told to shut up, to roll over, to Play dead, and to pretend I am asleep while it Fucks my mouth in the prison that is my mind.
There is no air and no water and I Gag on it, vomiting, in this prison that is my mind.
I look around checking that Nothing has been taken, that Nothing is being put up my ass while begging that Something be put up my ass, that the others validate my Lack of trust in the prison that is my mind.
How will you Harm me? When will you Hurt me? How can I outmaneuver You? These are the questions I Ask in the prison that is my mind.
No, This I will not see. Put the Needle back in my arm, Used is fine and hot and that makes us one and connected and I know this is so Fucked up but his headlamp only shined enough light to help find a vein that Took the hepatitis into the already-toxic body - such is the memory in the prison that is my mind.
Faces of friends are interpreted as enemies that coldly and with cruel intent reveal the truth about loneliness and the damnation of an insatiable appetite for love in the prison that is my mind.
On the Mirror, tattooed in fading blood, I see the words fight back, and I summon enough Courage not to lose sight of the Reflection that might take Substance and rescue me from the prison that is my mind.
Then, freedom! Courage mixed with reflection yielded substance that unlocked the door of the prison that was my mind.
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Note: A good resolution, ending on a happy note, as it were, has been long in coming. I am grateful to be here. (November 20, 2013) Still am. Oh good grief, I have been so foolish. (November 26, 2013.) No, you have been you. (December 23, 2013)
