“…nearly the whole of the English Left has been driven to accept the Russian regime as “Socialist” while silently recognizing that its spirit and practice are quite alien to anything that is meant by “Socialism” in this country. Hence there has arisen a sort of schizophrenic manner of thinking, in which words like “democracy” can bear two irreconcilable meanings, and such things as concentration camps and mass deportations can be right and wrong simultaneously.” George Orwell
-The nail has never been hit quite so hard on the head…who are you…?
He looks at the computer screen, watching his face slowly contort into desperation. He closes his eyes and watches her reaching up for him, her muted cries for help cut deeply deep within him. The cats walk across the marble floor, moonlight reflecting from their eyes as her screams emanate from their open eyes-don’t close your eyes, don’t ever close your eyes Looking straight into his own eyes continues to become more difficult. He can’t remember what he was searching for here as he looks down on the blank page his hand is resting on. It were the minds he stole that made it no longer possible for him to experience rest. Haunting his every waking moment, he stared at himself falling apart and still could not understand why. He walked along those stars, never noticing the shadows not far behind but always seeing the cracks forming up ahead in his vision. His blood quakes from the anguished cries of those hands reaching up at his feet…
The dying desert sun washes over his eyes as he’s blinded by the fog which continues to distort his vision. He continues walking down the seemingly endless alleyway as the humming from the people follows at a similar pace. He feels a strange cold wind pushing him from behind, emanating from their constantly spinning bodies. He no longer has the ability to see if they are living or even what they’ve become. As he pushes away the thick green fog from his eyes he sees a building in the far distance and a barely visible flickering light. He continues on, knowing this must be where he’s headed. In the darkness the screams only seem like a faint wind blowing through everything, passing unnoticed. The building flickers in and out and he is not sure which way to turn. The blood of the sun from his eyes deters them from closing as he is once again lost, and he is nowhere. In a piercing cry of peace a fire lights his way up ahead, the burning warmth calms him as he slowly approaches the fire and the humming and the spinning winds instantly subside. In the shadows of the flames he is overcome with the life reborn, pulsing through his veins. A cry from a man unseen suddenly enters him and for a second he remembers everything
…sometimes I awaken trapped in the middle of a feverish dream. The dead, cold hands warming me, the ticking in my brain, the shadows hovering above me. I keep running but I can no longer turn behind me. Attached to my brain is a hose, attached to one of three holes in the wall. Maybe this is where it all ends, in a fiery inferno below all of us…there is a constant chatter coming from down the hallway. There is constant darkness covering my eyes, but I am safe, I am warm, at least that’s what they tell me. I don’t forget the moon here. I don’t forget when they come to take me away. I hold my bunny and never let go, but they still take me away. They still tell me it doesn’t hurt as they whisper it’s okay, it’s okay and all I remember is don’t worry, it’s okay. But I ran from you before, I always have to run. On a conveyor belt I am taken away, along with all our hopes and dreams, taken away with the wind by your cold gentle hands, wrapped around my mouth. It is all taken away from me when I’m told I’m not right. Do you remember when you said that? I’m not right, I’m crazy. In the night I close my eyes and I see the shadows and the moon, beating down upon my face and I feel your hands and I cry into the emptiness of the shadows surrounding me as it’s okay means something different here. And I touch my stomach as the eyes that always followed me in the darkness become something different here. They become the eyes of my own, staring out from that screen, reminding everyone don’t worry, they stick that in your arm to help.