Say No to Escape Drugs
It’s funny because back when I was more of a knucklehead escapist I wanted medications to help me zone out or sleep through this Auschwitz. And they told me I wasn’t crazy enough then for drugs. Now that I’ve discovered reality, and am snapping them in the ass with it daily, they’re crying for me to be medicated and psychologically tested!
Well, they had their chance to turn me into a zombie. Now it’s my turn to show them they’re hypocrites. I do not believe forced medications are in the picture. But I wanted to give everyone a heads up just in case some curve ball comes my way. If you start receiving letters from me, talking about UFOs and my new brand of comfy diapers, writing in a child’s hand, you’ll know something’s up.
They’ll have to wrestle the poison into me each time though. Maybe I shouldn’t be dwelling on this, or even speaking about it, but I’ve spent my fair share of time force medicated, cramped up and yelling/moaning uncontrollably on the cold cement for months at a time, as COs laugh and kick you in the side. Sweating, being spit on and only fed a sandwich bag of dry cereal and an apple a day. Not being even able to chew with your jaw locked up from the Haldol.
The pigs do this sort of torture to break a person. But what they don’t know is a small percentage will always become very still inside after being treated like that. So still they perceive him/her as broken. Silent. And they’ll move on to the next victim.
But this quiet one will wait and learn and watch. He/she’ll smile when they expect a smile. And laugh when they see something as funny and need verification it’s so. But this person’s not… there’s not the same individual “in there” anymore. I mean, how could there be?
There are two roads one can take. One is of poisons and suicide. The other is of sweat and a sort of intelligent number$ where everything petty, insignificant, small, and worthless is what it is and rolls off his/her back.
You continue. But not for you do you do this. Something deep inside understands when nine suited up weightlifters beat a chained soul, your soul, inside you’re turned into this time bomb. Sort of. And of such a magnitude, that if you learn to control it, so it doesn’t detonate and destroy yourself, it works wonders at getting you through. Through anything. You walk and the sea of people part because they feel and see what’s inside you.
It’s dangerous. But it’s so dangerous not because it seeks to hurt. Oh, It’ll hurt, but only if it’s to help another in the same type of the situation where he/she was tempered. Seeing totally outnumbered people being beaten. Whether in groups of ten, or nations of ten million. These numbered captives who were raised as parasites, only to be fed to fellow parasites, are dangerous, are in my opinion the true revolutionary force in this nation of $nake$.
We just gotta get to them before they explode. Before they manipulate themselves some Seroquel or Effexor [psych drugs]. Before they stop caring and actually start becoming entertained by the simple, mundane, petty-pussy-patriotic slogans and shiny bloodstained third world baubles dancing merrily in front of their questioning eyes.
This is coming from one saved by the scruff of my neck because of MIM(Prisons) and comrades’ tireless work ‘out there’ to pull the wool from captives eyes ‘in here.’
I owe my life to the anti-imperialist struggle. I just hope, and train my body and mind, to contribute positively each day, and in the future, to the struggle.
Because I must, or I’d already be dead.
