I had cyber sex the other night and it was insanely good….I had phone to the wall off the beat and on the run time of your life kind of good ol fashioned time out for one and none other time of your life time without mores to stand in the way of what was said or done, if you dig?
It was the time of the world where the end of it stops its advancing and the rain stops falling and the whent of the while gets all done up. It does not need to be the feel or fell of it to be the one who gets it, it is the end of the end of the end of the end but it cannot stop without there being a form of fine and fair for which there is no need unless all should fall.
I wish that there would be a better way of putting this except in a sex talk but there isn’t. I hope you all understand that this is the one who gets all. The all being an apology and finally an exemption from his record as a being here on this planet which is now rife with bad behaviour such as pulling a knife in a pedestrian although they didn’t get me for that.
I went all the way on that one putting the life and soul of my life into it and missed his gut by inches damnit! I wish I could have got him and so brought this all to a close at the time but instead I must see that I do not get into the same predicament again and wear the scarlet letter less unless I want to be recognised. I wish to see that it is about the weary and the footsore. It is about the end of the weir and the start of the fire against which we shall be kept warm against the winter coming soon.
You can tell that I want to tell you this because I have need to be understood when I stand for the major party as an extra. I want all to see what they have become when they see a disabled man standing for a member of parliament seat in Bath. What they say shall be remarkable and in the least shall be the mon and the make and the moke of it. Bye.
Copyright 2016 Bruce E Saunders
Bedlam! Bedlam! Bedlam!
Is no’ just a noise but a place
Where I once nearly finished
My journey when I was compared
To the Georgia Tech Shooter and a potential
Menace to society.
I can tell you about PICU’s and
The difference between a Section Two and a Section 3
Sell you a Section 17
About going over a 9 foot barrier with the aid of a bench
It is all just the start of the end to me
The boundward journey into the start of the
End. This is not going of praise the British Justice System, to be put away without trial.
To be put in the hands of the medicinal community for the sake
Of not being the real one but the cause of it. At Sandy Hook.
Copyright 2016 Bruce E Saunders
It happened like this. At two in the morning one morning I decided to go to South Africa. Then and there. So I packed my bags and set forth, not forgetting to stash my computer with my now faithful friend Patrick. I knew that I had the misfortune of an intruder in my household as close personal things had gone missing, like by a souvenir collector.
Someone has been gaining entry to my flat while I have been away and they have been trying to get me evicted. Except for one thing. I have a protector who knows all about my condition and she’s thankful when I am quiet except on the internet when she thinks I am charming.
It is not my imagination and I gathered that it was the police some time ago. Like the police who have occupied the flat upstairs.
This time it was accompanied by a doctor who had me assessed but did not apply the necessary authority – he showed me a warrant afterward that showed a warrant for search and entry and they came in with battering rams. Six of seven heavily armed policemen in riot gear.
I was assessed under the Mental Health Act and sent off to a high secure unit in Stevenage. For five weeks. And then released. So it could look like I had been srrested. But then released. Off the streets according to someonse else’s important perhaps perception.
Later I complained. I was unrewarded. I kept record of my calls. They have disappeared. From my room, my bedroom.
You know how that feels?
Copyright B E Saunders 2016
Journalists and drug dealers and set-ups by the cops.
And Blue Giro’s.
Drugs raids posed as Mental Health Assessments.
Notes of complaint about ketamine dealers to the press and police. The Chronic.
What a mess.
Notebooks that disappear with details of complaints and collar numbers and times of calls and dates. And solicior’s telephone numbers.
Spare keys going missing.
Bionics papers to be published. They have all sorts of applications
Like for drugs mules to have a way to attach a plastic sac in their gizzard for long periods of time using attachment devices in the surafec of the siilicone to attach to the soft moist surface of the throat or gullet or stomach, prefeably painlessly.
Copyright B E Saunders 2016
In the formulation of my degree of antithesis towards the subject of psychiatry, you will agree that I am experienced, will you not, if you hear of the number of times I have been subjected to stays in the facsimile to what is called a Health Clinic in the USA. Here it is called an asylum or a loony bin. I have been inside 5, 6, or 7 times now, I cannot remember precisely which.
Each has been for a minimum period, or what they call and soothing down session. i.e. that means that I am kept off the streets until I start behaving myself and stop behaving like a loony in their opinion.
But I am English and quaint, or not so quaint given my weight gain over the period due no less to the weight giving appliance known as Abilify which is Supposed to be weight neutral but I have my doubts.
Such is my knowledge of the Mental Health System that I know for instance which of the two medications most suited me and that was none, but that option has not been put before me so I need to feel that I recorded this somewhere against future reference. It is so. It is not so. It iiiis so and still will be. This is an option and this is not. So be my thinking such is the game or game theory of strategy that I have been faced with by my superiors in arms at the University of Bath. Because they have been playing a game with my life, of silence and then attack, each time on a significant date in my history so as to most produce anxiety and dismay in me. This time it was my birthday, the last it was my Father’s death and so on. Each time I have been placed in the Master’s care at the precise time it would hurt the most and produce the most anguish or depression.
This will at the most take 3 or so pages to complete so I will let you off there with the first one. Sayonara!