Kiling Floor

Urine, urine, nothing but the smell of it rising into my nostrils as I lay on the cold hard floor in some small six by six room, four othes sleep on well worn laquered benches, damn symphony of snoring echoing through my skull. No idea what has happened in the past twelve hours, abducted, tossed into some black sedan with tinted windows, no explanation, reason, or apparent motive, drugged, moving in and out of consciousness like some indie art snuff film, complete paralysis, immobilization, and enclosure. Shadowy figures in front of flourencent lights have been yelling at me for some indeterminable amount of time, hours, days, or years. Time has stopped altogether. No possessions, no cellphone, identification or shoes, they keep on pumping the A/C into this metal cage, some sort of security building with sliding metal doors that open and close electronically. Really tired, but too overwhelmed by whatever chemicals have been shot into my system, not strong enough to fight off the effects, but at least I can sleep, finally, but what circumstances, so much for work today, not that it matters anymore, freedom has been thrown out the door, meaning ideals such as showing up to work, paying the bills, and behaving in a civilized manner have lost all their importance.

Great, might as well lay my head back down on this urine stained surface, close my eyes and hope for a better beginning. Fading in and out as more bodies are congregating into whatever available space is left in this miniture cell, everyone has gone fetal, either out of fear, subconscious, or the frosty breeze forming icicles on the opaque glass window of the security door. Men in dark green uniforms are kicking at my sides to awaken, automatic response, a capture victim with no alternatives, obidence became a wish, a hope, a path of potential escape in a labyrinth of flourencent hospital sanitized passageways. No sympathy, flesh based robots who act via a series of commands with no deviation, ever, they are just as trapped as myself, voluntary captives who have only succeeded in making a career of relinquishing their personal freedom to babysit others, deemed by some great invisible moralistic wisdom of superhuman nature to display the detainees like freaks in a circus act. Compassion, sympathy, and humanity have no place in this metallic box of doom. All of us in this room at whatever moment are living on a timeline in which we have no control over.

Chained up at the hips, walking like penguins, orders shouted, "Turn to the left", " Place your right shoulder against the wall." "Don't look around at anyone else." Dehumanize is the key here, remove all positive nature, grind the boots a bit harder, mash the spiked hammer harder, squeeze, intimidate, and instill fear. Not much left to do but laugh at my current state, but this does not please the blurred out faces of the guards, they have no features, only hostile mass, powered by anger, hate, an all out desire to control, dictate, as well as kill those who shall not bow down to their destructive agenda. Everyone is being divided up in groups, more holding cells, plastic trays of something resembling food are shoved into the new confined space, who wants to eat this green bolonga topped with homemade glue. One man in the room does not care, he has been starved down to a malnourished thin rail. Still, all I can do is marvel in amazement as the being or what use to be a being, devours a trays of reprocessed garbage. This is how they get you, overtake the senses, after smashing all needs and desire down to pure survival, consuming the worst of the worst of everything feels like a vacation, a reward, a victory against the elements of nature, but the only thing to be worried about here are the elements of human nature and how some will wield power to break people down like this organism huddled up in the middle of this compartment force feeding himself every last bit of morsel he can get inside himself. This person is our future, a premonition, or preview at the complete destruction of the human character, what I cannot see yet, is the journey leading to the abused, molested, and violated half living corpse ingesting conformity after all the will to rebel has been beaten out of him, maybe he was just a hard case, but now it no longer matters anymore. This indivdual no longer exists, an outcast, voided from the journals of society, no burial or ceremony, just a low grade subserviant pension as an experimental lab rat for unseen psychological and sociological scientists, when they are done, right out into the garbage heap with the other used up, discarded cartons of filth. I can begin to understand a little, very little of the plights of freedom seekers, waiting and waiting with nothing else, but the conviction to keep themselves from going crazy, knowing that belief could set them free, the toughest thing in this room right now is wondering if I am ever going to get out, the guards don't speak, none of the others in the space seem to have any idea what is going on or how they ended up here in the first place. Fear wants to take over, break me down into a small crying child, but what good would it do, everyone in here right now is freaking out on the inside to some degree, uncertain of their futures, except that they may be living the rest of it in lockdown inside a building, underground, or Carribean island prison camp. The drugs seem to be wearing off, a few people begin to talk, small talk, nothing like the overwhelming inability to formulate a timeline of how we all came to end up in the same location. People in blood stained shirts walk past the window of our cell, bags over their heads, predators who kill whatever is put in front of them. All I can hope is they don't put those killing machines amongst us because no one in here would ever see the light of day again.