Disjointed recant.

I was told to write. I was told to put my story on paper and give way to healing. I was told lies. my keyboard is broken. Like my head and all the thing I was taught. in one light I am a man of war, in comparetive to life. on the front lines everything I was taught as a kid in preperation, was a lie.  forced with a choice to hold onto the lessons I learned or let then go and reform new rules to survive. mortars boom across my mind while victems of the living attrosity that is life wail and scream, drowning out most off the the commen sense and reason I was prepared with. lights flash, blinding my eyes and my body shivers and weakens to the cold blood lust that is the "Real World".  I was told to write. I was told to let it out. I was told the same lies as anyone else in my position. 


            Raked with pains, devoid of love, shattered and rended to mere bite size morsels of what is defined as "living" I am forced with no thought to act.  With disgust and horror I watch my twisted form regain its stance and begin again, again  over the top I go.  with a heavy breath, I charge with my "comrades?", I can feel the mud and soil of the rotted ancestors before me sink beneath the weight of my steps. One weak and fruitless step after another I charge as ordered. that heavy breath burning my lungs, " I have to do this!" I yell inside me as loud as I can muster.  I can feel the toxic gases of chemical warfare that is the Tax to "live" Seep deep into my ill suited corpus.



          I can feel myslef fall, over and over again.. I try to remember. I try to think of everything I was taught.. I fight like the shape shifting terminators drowning in lava... new form, new effort, every chance for naught. I can not end this, I didn't start it.. I'm just stuck in the middle of it.  " you make your own reality" that what they said.. they Lied. that time has past. that control is a lie for the ones like me. we never had control. they forced the chemicals down our throat. they forced the sub-concious image's from the tvs, radios, and computers deep into the our young and bewildered minds. we were born masters of our fate, molded to be the peons for the weak..  I remember you....


between this disjointed recant I remember you.


        not old enough for school.. being attacked on that bus, over and over .. I remember it well.. well enough. class after class, I refused to drink it. the bright green sweet smelling mixture in that paper daisy cup.. in front of that entire single room school house I refused to drink it. I remember watching that women beat that kid.. that small indian school girl in blue sweats... I remember hearing her scream and cry while you, the one in control administered your one room school room discipline. I held that cup... I refused you. I refused to drink it.. even when you held my nose closed, with the weight of your own uneducated mass.. it wasn't my choice. I knew it was bad.  the teacher wouldn't have it. not in her class.

in forced submission I drank it. I became the ignorant. the stupid. the accepted.. and everyday since that first encounter with authority I've nearly pissed myself in fear... amongst the nightmares I own, you teacher are the worst.. in the hours it takes me to write this bewteen the fear riddeen shivering and convulsions of  sobbing tears.. I hope you are dead, and will never read this.

  I drank the floride in fear. today I can not even remember the basic things I should. today I see the faces of my past and I can't place When" I saw them. I can remember how to spell.. grammar, fractions. Thaat doesn't me I can't as I say it. what takes me days, months even.. take others mere minnutes.   dear teacher - I am your product of ignorance.