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VISITATIONS AMHI recognizes me I know, grinning wickedly to show its old brick strength, its magnetic pull upon a weak, suppressed will, a dead or dying heart. Swish! A vision swept past of a naked, old and empty man writing his epitaph on the padded wall with his own excrement – devouring the rest. Crash! A dream table slammed onto the floor by “young Atlas” and brittle pieces like my soul scattered about, shards of loneliness. Suddenly a baby sobs, one ready to have her own child from rape at seventeen – full of babbling incoherent un-words, noises, gurgles. Then “saving” words spewed from a 22-year-old clone of Jesus (according to him), but do not take him lightly or jest. He has awesome strength. The “GREAT TENOR” is now vocalizing some significant opera which I cannot recognize. He sees not me, but only the audience before his stage. Then there’s the blank, see-through glazed eyes, the mumbling incomprehension rambling back and forth daily through the glaring halls. Then, the screams – the wretched, tormented, unbearable screams through the night, through the bricks, the cement, through my heart from nowhere! Ah yes, AMHI, you remember me – and I remember you! |
Additional Notes:
AMHI = Augusta Mental Health Insitute. Now you know!
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