The shackles, large cast iron casings big enough to wrap my forearms, sap my strength, leaving me unable to raise my fists in defiance. Heavy chains wrap my ankles, trapping me in place. The pallor on the walls, designed to break my spirit, play tricks on my eyes, causing vertigo and hallucinations. And the voices, are they voices? Whispers and hushed tones spelling out my future, my eternity, in this cell. I want to cry, to wail in despair, but thats what they want. Vindication that their plan is working. No, while they can do what they want to my flesh, while they can break my bones, while they can subject this form to tortures untold, they can never have my mind. And that just happens to be the only thing they want. This prison was especially designed to make me go crazy. Because once I've lost my mind, the spirit soon follows thereafter, and I will be nothing more then a shell of myself, an automaton for them, and no longer a man at all.
They've done their job well, in caging me. Knew all my weaknesses, but more importantly, knew all my strengths. I knew not what was happening until it was too late, and I found myself here, cursing my folly.
There are no doors in this prison, walls appear to move whenever they decide to speak to me or bring me nourishment. The food they provide is bland and tasteless mush, and I'm only ever given enough to keep me alive, never enough to quell the hunger that pains me from the inside out. And the water is sour and filled with silt. If I did not know that they wanted to break me, I might have given in long ago. The only light is cast from a small gap near the ceiling, from which flows a foul smelling water and a cold wind that sets my teeth to chatter even before they soak me. The chill reaches my bones and the sounds of the chains rattle as I shiver is deafening in comparison to the silence I spend my days in.
But I won't give them what they want. I will not cave in. My will shall not crumble. And for the rest of my days, however long they last, I will wrap myself in the security of knowing that in the end I was stronger.
They've done their job well, in caging me. Knew all my weaknesses, but more importantly, knew all my strengths. I knew not what was happening until it was too late, and I found myself here, cursing my folly.
There are no doors in this prison, walls appear to move whenever they decide to speak to me or bring me nourishment. The food they provide is bland and tasteless mush, and I'm only ever given enough to keep me alive, never enough to quell the hunger that pains me from the inside out. And the water is sour and filled with silt. If I did not know that they wanted to break me, I might have given in long ago. The only light is cast from a small gap near the ceiling, from which flows a foul smelling water and a cold wind that sets my teeth to chatter even before they soak me. The chill reaches my bones and the sounds of the chains rattle as I shiver is deafening in comparison to the silence I spend my days in.
But I won't give them what they want. I will not cave in. My will shall not crumble. And for the rest of my days, however long they last, I will wrap myself in the security of knowing that in the end I was stronger.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
darke:
You aren't facing it if it rules you. It's about going eye to eye and not flinching. The point is, even when you can do that, you have to face the fact that your wellspring of self-knowledge does nothing to change the nature of everything around you. And you accept living in a world you did not make and accept what satisfaction you can or you can rail against it and be a miserable, bitter fuck.
heathen:
Hold strong.