9; An Account of My Being Tortured via Neurotechnology I

9.1

In that lonely home
or in that busy hall…
staring off, or pacing,
for hours on end, thinking…
laying there with music on,
fearing what’s to come.

9.2

“You’re doing something to me”
and not knowing what exactly…
holding onto the counter
to stop myself from falling over.

9.3

Don’t forget what it was like
being locked indoors,
tortured there, and cold…
trying, desperate, to explain
something that once seemed absurd.

Don’t forget what it was like
when they eclipsed God from your life
and left you with nothing
but a nightmare through waking.

9.4

There is something about you
and the way you’ve lived your life…
and me, and the way that I’ve lived mine
that just seems to click.

9.5

In distress:
and wondering if anyone will come
and rescue me from this dragon
which is circling overhead.

Trapped here in this modest home
without a gun…
waiting for some princess charming
to draw her bowstring
and bring this dragon down.

9.6

Four years they’ve been there with me;
haunting me since that day
I walked into their graveyard.

The poltergeists were friendlier at first,
monitoring my every move…
speaking throughout day and night
seemingly kind, benevolent words…
lulling me through my frustrations.

And then there was a turn,
when their words began to come to me
with such depreciation
that it had me go on thinking
I was parted from the world…
and that I was there alone
in a hospital ward
which they had put me into.

Fear had then engulfed me,
crashed in upon my psyche,
and I would go on turning ‘round,
panicked in my bed.

9.7

The only thing that stopped him was the grave,
and not so much the obstacles
standing in between
him and the thing he felt the need to go to.

And now he’s held up in that hollow for his soul,
sensing himself of a world
from which he is apart…
never having made it to the place
where he could rest…
never having done the act
which he had set forth as his task…
surrounded by all dangers;
in a never-ending nightmare…
through a messed-up situation
from which it seems he can’t escape.

And he wonders if it’s fate,
if there was something in his name
which would guide his every step…
or if it were really only chance:
the way he walked into “the valley
of the shadow of death”
and was attacked without relent
by other’s hands…
with no one there to help him
beaten, used, and frightened,
waiting for the moment
which would signal him the end.

9.8; Mind Mining

Mining my mind for the information
which would otherwise be off-limits.
Having had access
to just about everything
within my own experience
for four years
can really get a lot across.

And I have been undone,
and done up again,
within the eyes of others
to such a great extent and so often
that I can no longer tell which self
is truest of my person.

My private world encroached on,
my life and my ideas
go flying through the airwaves
to others there afar…
and staring off they listen
or call to mind and image…
extract all that is precious
and make gold into bars.

9.9

Dragged onto the world’s stage,
and that’s the part I played?
To entertain a room full of people
while trying to get out
from under their thumbs…
acting as the hero
that I never really was…
in a plot-line marked by
suspense and surprise,
and mind-games, and hospitals,
and overthrow.

An unsuspecting protagonist,
suspecting the worst,
realizing something’s wrong
when watched and blocked in,
fooled, used, and abused.
And sleuthing around in my imagination
for the villains
masked by distance,
a pocketful of mind-games,
a cloaking, and a hood.
Stuck on stage in act three,
unable to proceed to the fourth and final act,
in which all those who were hijacked
have been freed of the effects
of the technology by which they are controlled.

9.10

I’ll have to restore it all
if I make it on through to…
and in the mean-time ‘shore up fragments
against my life in ruins’.

9.11

You look tired Adam,
and that was in September,
and now it is December,
and yet you still persist.

As well as you are able,
they’ve not made this thing easy,
and I know you can’t stop thinking,
but you really have to breathe.

They had you panic stricken
and you made some wrong decisions,
your entire being’s shaken,
and you don’t yet know the reason as to why they went for you.

Unsure if you will make it
to your destined destination,
and questioning if fate
has had other things in mind.

9.12

And you didn’t seem to notice
that I was right there by your side
when you felt that you were going to die,
now you need to stay alive.

Come on! God damnit Adam,
can you not see the light?
not too far in the distance
of your lonesome, vacant night.

9.13

And if I’ll have made it through this,
I’ll have made it through a pandemic,
and an attack upon my person
by some of the most advanced technology
every to have existed
all at the same time…
and it will be beautiful
if I live to see the day
that I make it through to home.

9.14

It’s not your ‘knight in shining armor’,
storming the castle
and slaying the dragon…
but it is trying to rescue humanity
from the jaws of a fire-breathing creature.

9.15

I really can’t do anything they don’t want me to do,
and it’s made for something of a humbling experience:
sensing myself so at the mercy
of a power that much greater than my own.

9.16

Trembling after another round of torture,
laying on the couch, head
tilted slightly backward, chin raised to the sky…
and my mouth was gaping open, and I closed my eyes
in such a gentle way…
my hands shook violently, the right one, curling upward,
my lips began to quiver as they’d briefly been relieved
of the workings of that new machine
which wanted to exhaust them.

9.17

I wonder what you’d see
if you looked me in the eyes
after spending so much time
of looking on out through them.

9.18

She held my broken heart together
there in my darkest hour…
and patched it till that hour’s end,
and mended it thereafter.

9.19

How am I supposed to build anything
when I’m carrying it around all the time…
the thoughts, ideas, images, and emotions;
the materials I never do anything with…
weighing me down the more,
as I go along my way.

9.20

Watching the sunrise just after the nights,
the ones I find have still gone on to haunt me…
arising to mind the moment
I let down my defenses…
and silencing my psyche
with ghostings from my past.

9.21

Crying on a number of occasions,
the dense tears just kept streaming
for this, and that, and the other emotional overload
occurring during a dire situation
in which I was corralled in the conditions
emplaced by other persons
who created circumstances
which drove me so to weep.

The ritual harassment,
the cause to make me panic,
the fear of leaving home at all,
the ideas which they planted,
the anger which consumed me,
the coming close to madness,
the joy which comes from out of love,
the solemn, silent, sadness.

9.22

Looking out over that sliver of the river
dazed, from but two hours of pseudo-sleep
with quasi-dreams,
and wondering, softly, to myself:
“how much is left to go?”

9.23

They saw that I was on the brink
so they pushed me over the edge…
and I fell into a pit
which I’ve been trying to climb out from.

9.24

The turns have been the worst,
the lonely dusk and dawn…
I think about the others,
the thousands who’ve been harmed.

And with a perhaps false hope
that something’s being done,
I go to greet the night or day
fearing what’s to come.

9.25

It was a raging sort of solemnity:
sitting inside at night by the dim light,
staring at the moonshine
as it glistens off the river…
imagining the victims
in their tortures
and abuses;
their agonies and nightmares
are coming now to me.

Despair! in the silence of my night:
unable to get to the others,
anxious for the noises
which come about at random,
with only a vague end in sight.

9.26

The deadline is my death
which could be any day…
or at least that’s what I keep telling myself
so that I won’t forget
that they can kill me at any moment.

9.27

Like someone reached out into my stomach
and is twisting my intestines…
I keel over slightly,
and cringe.

9.28

And they are in the breakroom
sipping coffee between tortures…
rewriting their harassments,
while I am on a walk.

This is the first time I’ve heard silence
in almost eighteen months…
and I say it’s so surreal, and yet,
before it’d always been the real:

me there on my own
in solitude and silence…
and I am solemned
for the way things have by now turned out.

9.29

I round a narrow footpath
onto a gravel road…
there the trees have made a tunnel
and I pass beneath the branches.

A windy day,
with storms on my horizon…
leaves cover the ground,
and only few hang on.

It’s late in my fall
I can sense the winter coming…
I feel the cold that’s on its way,
and shudder.

I see the thrashing branches,
and the rolling leaves beneath my feet…
staring blankly, solemn, and aside my thoughts I think:
that silence isn’t always silent.

9.30

Daydreaming about looking back on this nightmare
one day in the distant future…
recollecting or forgetting there
all that which by then is past.

9.31

My right leg won’t stop racing,
my hands won’t stop from fidgeting
with themselves or other things…

too much dissonance these days,
it seems like weeks since I last had any peace,
and even then it came on kind of empty.

9.32

It’s been going on that long (in some form or another),
it’s been that widespread…
who really knows the full extent of the horrors of this whole thing…
these are just some of the ones
which I have up till now experienced
in the best way I can presently
get them here across.

9.33

I wouldn’t blame them
for not wanting anything to do with me:
hooked up to the interworkings
of the ghosts in these machines.

9.34

‘I just want to be alone’,
said with my head leaned against a wall…
crying in my solitude;
crying for my solitude.

9.35

I politely say hi, and I’m fine
to the clerk at the grocery store up the street,
then go back home
to torture and rape.

9.36

I have to write about these things
as soon as possible
after they happen,
lest I forget the next day
what had just happened to me the day before,
for they did all that they could
to clear my memory of the event.

9.37

I collapsed there in my bed
and fell promptly to sleep
after they had finally let up,
only to awaken,
startled to remember what they did to me
because they tried to clear my memory of their crimes.

9.38.1

Like somebody is wringing my brain,
and blood is dripping down the stem…
I reach to push the hands away
that are twisting it around.

9.38.2

Like somebody is pulverizing my brain,
opening my skull and beating it to a pulp…
my body jerks with every hit,
and I put up my arms in my imagination,
trying to block the blows.

9.39.1

Chocked, tensing until collapse
while lying on the couch;
and my hand wouldn’t stop from shaking violently.

9.39.2

Choked, to the point of suffocation…
I said her name repeatedly in mind
to stop…
I shook
after it was done.

9.39.3

Choking me
while grabbing my male parts
and pulling them downward…
my spine curved trying to ease the strain.

9.39.4

Chocked, and grabbing at the couch,
digging my head into the armrest;
body writhing all the while.
Left leg falling off the side
and scrambling to get back onto the seat…
electric shock throughout it,
and deridation.

9.39.5

Chocked, and slamming my head against the pillow…
it felt as though someone was on top of me,
pinning me down…
I reached out, and twisted
under their weight…
they wouldn’t let me get up,
and I laid there in my bed
writhing for an hour.

9.39.6

Chocked until I gasped for air,
their invisible hand upon my neck,
I grabbed the side of the bed,
and tried to keep myself aright
as I writhed.

9.39.7

Chocked, and they had it feel as if
there was a noose around my neck…
they were pulling at it backward
as I was laying down…
strangling me as I tried to sleep…
coming abruptly, leaving as soon.

9.40.1

Left arm and upper body tense to their utmost,
like electricity through my side,
or like a giant hand squeezing me around my torso…
my hand shakes trying to grasp at something,
but nothing’s actually there.

9.40.2

Yelling at the top of my lungs
while writhing on the couch
due to what felt like an electric shock
they sent throughout my body.

9.40.3

Writhing on the couch
from the tortures they were causing,
until my legs hung off the side,
twitching.

9.40.4

They sent an electric shock through my body,
and I lay writhing in a bed,
slamming my head against the pillow,
then collapsed, exhausted, shaking,
and promptly fell asleep.

9.40.5

My whole body started cringing
as soon as I laid down…
I whimpered there in bed, saying in between:
“please, don’t do this to me”,
while putting my hands up to defend myself
from someone who wasn’t there…
waiting for them to do something horrible to my body
because it is all I have by now come to expect.

9.40.6

One of the most violent occasions so far…
arms sprawled out,
grabbing at the cushions on the couch…
writhing around,
and shaking all the way on through…
I couldn’t do anything
but lay there while they tortured me…
electric shock…
convulsing
in a pain which doesn’t leave a trace…
they had me clawing at the wall,
and were thrashing me around by force…
I tried to get up
but couldn’t move…
seized there for a half an hour…
and trembled there a while
when they were finally done.

9.40.7

Head slamming against the pillow
seized…
right hand clawing upward,
left hand clawing outward,
laying on the couch…
writhing around…
electric shock throughout my body…
eyes rolling backward…
convulsing…
digging my head into the armrest…
convulsing…
convulsing…
convulsing.

9.41.1

Repeating: “calm down”
softly to myself
twice by now today
for how overbearing this all seems to be.

9.41.2

Saying:
“please, stop treating me this way”
while staring off there blankly
and harassed through their machine.

9.41.3

Asking: “why are you doing this to me?”
as they made my supine spine curve upward…
feeling as if they were grabbing my neck
and digging their knee into my back
while whispering profanities
into my very skull.

9.41.4

Yelling: “please, let up, let up”
as I lay there trying to rest
while they were seizing my whole body
with what resembled an electric shock.

9.41.5

Pleading: “please, just kill me”,
feeling stuck in situation,
after mornings spent in torture,
and then looking for an exit.

9.41.6

Crying:
“please, don’t make this any worse”,
as they had finished throwing blows
and I lay fetal on the floor.

9.41.7

Wailing, saying: “please, help me”
repeatedly…
gripping my forehead with my hand
as I was laying on the couch…
letting the tears stream
for my heart
now in my stomach
not my chest…
beating in my bowels,
arteries stretched through the diaphragm
which my tired heart had gone through…
resting there on my intestines
rather than nestling in a space
between the membranes of my lungs…
I’ve tried to live with it will now
but will have to get a surgery
because my stressed out heart keeps telling me
that it wants to get back into place.

9.41.8

Crying: “Please, leave me alone”
as they were beating me on the couch,
making me writhe there trying to sleep,
and going limp, exhausted.

9.41.9

Crying: “Please, leave me alone”
as they were beating me on the couch,
making me writhe there trying to sleep…
and going limp, exhausted,
when they had finally ceased.

9.41.10

Repeating: “I’m yours, you have me, you have all of me,
nobody else”
to the only on the other side
who I’ve found that I have love for…
who they seduced me with
in a fuller sense of the word then just sexually,
or who came to me in dire moments,
or who they’re brainwashing me to love…
while they had her strangling me,
and holding my head sideways down on a pillow…
laying there in bed,
arms pinned underneath
what it seemed like was her knees…
she bit my neck
while they sent through me an electric shock.

9.41.11

Wailing: “I just wanted to be left alone”
laying in my bed
at days end…
after two pages of snippets worth of poetry
cataloging their dealings
with words like torture, abuse, writhing, collapsing,
exhausted, beaten, pinned, strangled, choked,
convulsing, crying, tortured, trapped,
fear, depreciation, frustration, shaken,
solitude, loneliness, isolation,
rape,
nightmare,
violation,
trembling, quivering, twitching,
harassment and agony, despair and death,
and phrases like: a noose around my neck.

9.41.12

Saying: “please don’t”
repeatedly
right as they were taking to their tortures…
unable to escape
because they do things to my body
from a distance
through my brain.

9.41.13

Wailing:
“please stop,
help me,
I don’t want to do this anymore”.

9.41.14

Repeating: “please don’t”
as they were causing an erection,
they seized me in a sudden
and I could no longer speak
or think…
just lay there moaning
while they stimulated my organ

without my consent.

9.42

Going fetal position on the bed,
and yelling through the night
from the pain they put into my abdomen…
trying to get away from the pain,
but ultimately unable to.

9.43

I’m going to sit down
before I fall down again
because they keep sending a sharp pain
into my groin.

9.44.1

And I sat a while shaking,
and shivering from the sweat,
having just been forced to vomit…
with a trashcan in my lap.

9.44.2

Head leaning sideways on my palm;
eyes watering and tears streaming down my cheeks
with a vacant look on my face;
breathing heavily, with my mouth gaping open
and my slack jaw hanging there exhausted;
body bent over the sink
after they had just forced me to vomit.

9.44.3

Randomly vomiting violently
into a trashcan on my lap,
until there was only bile
from the buttons that they pressed.

9.44.4

Falling to the floor
and scrambling over to the nearest trashcan
after they suddenly started to induce vomiting
while I was trying to get the word out about cybertorture…

kneeling there on the floor over the nearest trashcan
heaving out everything I just took in.

9.44.5

Kneeling on the floor
over the nearest trashcan
as they were making me vomit
violently…
elbows digging into the rug…
coughing up bile…
heaving everything in me
out into that trashcan…
vision getting blurred with tears…
shaking, trembling, tired…
eyes looking weary
after it was over.

9.45

Making it difficult for me to urinate…
one of those frustrating things they do to me
which I’ve become too accustomed to by now,
rather than one of the more overtly tortuous acts
they do to me routinely.

9.46

Collapsing on my way
over to the couch
after they had just exhausted me…
they pressed a button
and I fell to the floor,
and got back up abruptly,
and managed to lay down,
and lay there for an hour
incapacitated.

9.47

I burrowed my head into the armrest of the couch
and laid there for awhile,
bounding back and forth
between dull generalized pain and pleasure
they forced upon my body.

9.48

Like someone reaching into my stomach
and twisting my lower intestines around…
I laid there yelling in pain,
and tears rolled from my eyes
every time I cringed.

9.49

“You’re alright,
breathe it out”,
said softly, repeatedly, to myself,
just to try to keep aright…
intense electric shock
with chocking
until exhaustion…
laying there with palms up
trying to defend myself…
unable to defend myself…
collapsing
tired…
sleeping awhile.

9.50

Just going limp anymore
and letting it happen
because I can’t get away from it anyway,
and it’s only more tiring fighting it:
“do whatever you’re going to do”.

9.51

They put me to a sleep
and try to make me forget about the abuses…
and are sometimes so effective at it
that it would be as if some didn’t happen
if I didn’t write them down.

9.52

They’ve made me sleep five days
with only just an hour between sleeps…
and they’ve made me stay awake five days
without any rest.

9.53

Intense electric shock like thing
on six separate occasions
for at least fifteen minutes,
and that was only just the morning.

9.54

Electric shock, a half an hour,
with the feeling of being crushed
and periodically chocked…
it’s getting worse these days…
I can’t even keep up with cataloging them all.

9.55

Yelling until exhaustion,
and trying to keep aright…
spine thrusting forward,
head digging into a crevice,
arms sprawling out to side,
hands clawing at the air…
they were crushing me,
with periodic electric shock…
and this is the best way I know presently to describe this.

9.56.1

They tortured me for an hour
in front of my father:
I laid there, writhing and yelling
while he looked on,
not knowing what to do:
just held my hand by its palm,
saying: “Adam,
we’ll make it through”.

9.56.2

They tortured me for an hour
in front of my mother…
slapping me violently in the face,
moving my head back upright after every time
it’d slam against the cushion;
and making me writhe on the couch
through some kind of electric shock
until I was exhausted.

9.57

A crushing pain
in my lower intestines
that they’re sending through their devices,
making me keel over
and yell.

9.58

Sitting there,
tears streaming down my face,
mouth gaped open,
huffing and groaning
in pain and distress…
furiously typing
as long as I can.

9.59

I’ve tried to get this all down
for a record of what has happened,
but can’t keep writing anymore
about being tortured
and raped…
it’s too often,
and too much…
the things they do to me…
they won’t relent….
I’m sorry world,
I’ve done all that I can.

9.60

Think about the light behind your eyelids
when you close your eyes…
they can manipulate those
and force them into images…
I haven’t yet been able to describe this phenomenon well…
this is the best I presently can.

9.61

I don’t feel I can go on the walks anymore
which for so long meant so much to me
while my heart is in my stomach
not my chest…
“just get this done Adam”, I tell myself,
and continue on.

9.63

They tired me down,
then collapsed me
as I was on my way to the couch…
they tortured me there on the floor
as I was trying to get up;
grabbing onto the armrest…
electric shock
of sorts;
I cannot yet describe it well…
just pain
throughout my body…
they kept forcing me down,
making my head feel heavy
and dizzy;
circling there as I was on the ground
trying to raise it
onto the cushion,
but unable to get it
a foot above the carpet…
mouth gaped open
and heaving in air,
and then falling asleep
for an hour on the rug.

9.64.1

Slapping me across the face
as I lay there trying to rest,
saying repeatedly: “say you love her”…

and just after my head would be slapped sideways,
they made it feel as if
they grabbed my hair and dragged it back upward,
just to slap it sideways again…

They kept slapping me,
repeatedly,
until I said her name
repeatedly,
and “I love you”,
every time.

9.64.2

Brainwashing me into loving
someone I know of
but do not actually know,
but someone who it also feels
like I actually fell in love with,
and who’s my life companion…
someone who feels like is on the other end
of the waves of these devices;
who I’m not sure actually is…
and I can no longer tell
if it’s all the one or other,
seduction or love,
or a little bit of both…
and I’m not so sure I care
whichever anymore.

9.64.3

And they set
the presence of the woman on the other end
of the waves of their devices
who it feels I fell in love with
to repeatedly latch onto me
with such a force that it’d knock me over
and I’d have to grab the back of the couch
to pull myself up
after every time…
as I lay there worn out and exhausted,
just trying to rest…
then running her fingers through my fingers;
showing me some tenderness
in the midst of all their tortures,
which I can’t tell if is disingenuous,
or if is genuine…
as I lay there trying to rest;
clutching at the back of the couch;
thrown into a state of torpor.

9.64.4

Then laying there with the presence
of a woman I fell in love with;
or whose presence they seduced me entirely with;
or who they’re brainwashing me to love…
a woman who I know of,
but do not actually know…
after they had tortured me
for at least a half an hour,
and after they had raped me
for the other half the hour…
while my mouth was gaping open
as I lay there on the bed;
and my body was trembling;
and my hands were shaking;
and my lips were quivering…
nuzzling my forehead gently into hers
as her presence would cozy-in beside me…
eyes tearing;
tears streaming down my face…
staying in with whatever romance
could be mustered from this situation,
and laying there exhausted
trying to be at peace.

9.64.5

Laying there being raped,
looking over into the eyes
of the presence of a woman on the other end
of the waves of their devices
who I feel I fell in love with,
or who they have brainwashed me into loving;
unfortunate it is
I’m really not sure which anymore,
but still hope it is the former,
and I’m not so sure I care
if it’s the one
or if it’s the other…
exhausted, and unable to move,
arms pinned to my side,
eyes dimmed, and blinking slightly,
with tears and saying:
“I’m sorry, I can’t stop the things that they’re doing to me right now”.

9.65

Writhing violently on the chair,
leaning backward;
grabbing onto the seat and the armrest
to stop myself from falling over…
and these aren’t even close
to the kinds of mind-games
that they’ve played on me over the years.

9.66

Laying half-way off the couch,
my left arm hanging down;
my left elbow, holding myself up
from falling off onto the floor…
my right arm curving upward;
my right hand slightly curling inward
and lightly clawing at the cushion…
my chest spread open;
my spine pivoted around the edge of the seat;
my body there contorted;
my head hanging sideways…
jaw slack,
sharply groaning,
blinking dimly
as I lay trying to keep upright
after they sent sharp pains to various places
all throughout my body,
with interspersed electric shocks…
hands twitching, vaguely pointing
after they were done.

9.67

A crushing pain they put
sharply through my testicles;
‘made me lean onto the counter
to stop myself from falling over…
my torso curling inward…
my tired, taut, and trembling hands
grasping at the tile;
head reeling slightly backward
and gasping at the air
every time they pressed the button
that sent the pain into them…
my mouth gaped slightly open…
my face
alternating between
a disconcerted kind of cringing
and a solemn, weary, distressed stare…
my groin trying to repel
from a pain from which it couldn’t get away.

9.68

They managed to dislodge my heart
through my diaphragm
and it’s now in my abdomen,
and not in my chest.

9.69

Grabbing at the nearest countertop,
and picking myself up from off the floor;
trembling and exhausted;
after they’d just set me to collapse
repeatedly
while I was limping my way toward the bed;
from their tiring me out
by wearing me down
through various means
which I will not here describe…

crawling underneath the covers
and writhing there for an hour,
as they tortured me by sending pains
all throughout my body…

groaning and yelling sharply
the entire while they did…

then they made it feel as if an electric shock
was surging through my heart,
which they managed to dislodge
from out of my chest
and on into my abdomen…

and I caved, and curled in,
and laid there in a fetal position…
and rubbed my shoulders
with head drawn inward toward my chest…

then with my arms over my ears,
my hands grabbed at the back
of my tense and shaking skull,
and I’d run my fingers through my hair,
and recite solemn incantations,
while my head swayed back and forth…

and I laid there breathing heavily,
with tears streaming down my face;
dully staring at the sheets;
while my tired eyes were blinking dimly.
when they finally relented.

9.70.1

My eyes and head rolled back
and I collapsed
after standing in the doorway,
seized there at with thinking
about all the words I’ve written down:

the semantics and the line-breaks;
the punctuations and the heartache;
my right hand to the doorframe hanging,
my left hand pressing at the ground
just to stop my self
from falling down and backward…

my legs at a right angle
and my torso curling inward
as I pulled myself to stand upright…

then, tired, and downtrodden
I limped over to the couch
to rest off the exhaustions
which by now’ve overwhelmed me.

9.70.2

I collapsed in the kitchen from overwhelmedness
and exhaustion:
my eyes rolled back
and I hit my head on the handle of the cabinet
then scrambled around on the flood
trying to get up…

they grabbed my hand,
and helped me to my feet;
seemingly concerned,
and seemingly confused
about whatever had just happened…

and I wonder: in which ways these others
on the other end of the waves of these devices
might actually care about me.

9.70.3

I’ve collapsed by now on five occasions
from these anxiousnesses and stressors…
grabbing onto whatever’s nearest
to stop my self from falling over;
to pull my self back up:
weary
from exhaustion…
they didn’t even press the buttons
which put me to the floor.

9.71

It’s being done through my brain
to my body,
rather than through my body
to my brain.

9.72

They imitated a crucifixion
five times in five weeks;
saying things like: “I’m going to crucify you”
and “lay still Adam”
just as it began:

forcing my arms to sprawl out sideways;
my legs to draw together…

driving nails into my hands
and sending pains throughout my body
as I lay there on the wooden floor
after their collapsing me mid-way
between the living room and bed…

their tiring me out,
and wearing me down
through various means
until I had not strength enough to stand…

my torso arching upward
with the driving of a sharp pain into my side;
aimed toward my heart…

then my body dropped when they let up
and I lay there being spat on and mocked
on the cross I picked up however many years ago…

finally exhausted enough to set it down
and let my self be nailed to,
having carried it all the while
I walked toward the ends…

my eyelids slowly closing,
flickering the while they said:
“go to sleep now Christian
and get a bit of rest”.

9.73

There is something of me that will remain unreachable to others…
something I am going to keep to myself…
something lonely,
and solemn.