Calendars are my enemy, sheets of paper that have the audacity to not only record but embellish the fact that I am losing time. I can regain space, never time – ever!
My vision is diminishing. Only days away from 29, and I suffer from glaucoma. Overhead fluorescent lights that stay on 22 hours a day shan’t bear the blame, no. The men and women who manufactured these isolation units in the conservative state of Missouri are to blame. I can’t blame the ‘tool’, only the wielder – the BUILDER of my very own personal torture chamber. Aren’t they sweet… I’m all alone to rot in peace.
I have other ocular issues too. The optometrist has diagnosed me with photophobia, meaning my eyes are extremely sensitive to bright light. He told my keepers to allow me to ‘purchase’ my own sunglasses – Nope! Nor can I get tinted or transition lenses. Is this not deliberate indifference to my medical issue, hmmm…
My left ear has a ringing in it. My right just seems to ignore the madness. A good thing, you say? Ehh, no, I’m just going deaf. I’ma attest, my body is deteriorating s-l-o-w-l-y. My sanity is leaving faster.
My neck and shoulders are strained from being hunched over writing and reading without a desk or a chair to assist me. Only a metal bunk that will give you a case of swollen hemorrhoids if you got ‘em. My upper spine and back muscles are so damn tight that I can barely turn my head – ouch – I’m stiffer than Frankenstein’s monster but twice as mean, so my captors say…
Seven hundred days. Seven hundred days plus in an outhouse. Seven hundred days in a lunchbox. Seven hundred days… and many more in the same spot – HELL.
This makes religious fanatics question faith – believe it or not. The most loyal, stringent, devotee and follower will find themselves crying out with a loud voice, saying, ‘Eli, Eli, Iama Sabachthani? My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken me?’ I look up, distracted from a noonday nap. The blatant declaration of disbelief is repeated – of course, I laugh. Did he not know we were already in hell, duh, everybody knows that – “Jesus take the wheel!” SMH.
Do “I” believe in a merciful God? I do(n’t). A merciless? I do! Can you blame a man that’s surrounded by devils who brandish the crucifix in their defense for every sick, twisted, malicious and sadistic act they commit?
SOLITARY CONFINEMENT. COMPLETE ISOLATION. BEATING. YELLING. KNOCKING. YELLING – Oh, I said that. HARASSMENT. CONSTANT ILLUMINATION. SPIT AND HAIR IN MY FOOD, UMM… IS MY NORM. My life is a crypt.
If I don’t push this pen… I would cease to live. My being would evaporate and my thoughts no longer exist. So with this I build, build diamond encrusted pyramids, that’ll become a wonder of the world for all warm hearts to see (smile). Maybe your emotions will somehow affect me. All I know is scowls, mean mugs and fury.
All I think is conflict, war and violence. I’m physically deteriorating, yes, but I can fix that. That’s not beyond repair. But what they’ve done to me mentally, my sanity – I can never regain – EVER!
*700 days*
ABOUT THE AUTHOR.
Dr. Tracy Edgar Greer, Jr., D.D. is a writer, poet, spoken word artist and qualified religious and spiritual counselor. He can be contacted at:
Tracy E. Greer #1153032
SCCC-255 W. Hwy. 32
Licking, MO 65542
Email: Jpay.com
This really means a lot. I felt every word, I felt your heart beat, your anger, your struggles. 700 days is too long, walking out of the hole as if you were reborn, blinded by sun light. Stay strong, don’t let no one mess with you mentally nor physically and emotionally. Your stronger then you know. I’m wishing for better and easier days for you.