Member-only story
Twenty years of electro-shocks
My thoughts have gone
The slightest stimuli, and I trip
My reactions have been hardwired
The vagus nerve trips, and my circuits go awry
My body ignites
I am paralysed
Caught amidst a funeral pyre
I am a burning tyre: acrid smells fill the sinuses.
My thoughts go amiss
This is not ecstasy but an emotional paralysis
My body is rigid
It is a praxis
It seeks release
My spine is iron rod hard.
It is shooting up into the centre of my brain
I feel the strain
I am resisting revisiting the pain
The trauma is too much to bear
Insanity beckons
and so the convulsion begins.
I am sunk caught in a flunk, a whirlwind and commotion that is all of my making
My mind is forsaken
I need a release from the devil’s grip
Purple lips
My thoughts slips
Drunk, slumped, I am caught in the funk
The hallelujah chorus is a raucous noise
The drums’ syncopation is out of sync
My mind has forsaken me
I find myself buried in the scree, but I cannot scream.
This, alas, is not a dream.
I hope relief will come from somewhere, and I will release the strain: a little light will sip from the darkness.
I don’t seek forgiveness; I seek release from the devil’s kiss.
You ask me to focus on the sensations, but the more I do, the more my head feels like it is going to explode. I am caught in a spin. My thoughts are blown to smithereens, my reality is shattered, and I cannot put the…
