With(IN)Sanity

This monologue contains multiple quotes and phrases from texts which are not my own. These are limited. Please read the following texts as well to gain further insight into the monologue. These texts are 1984 by George Orwell, Howl/Rockwell by Allen Ginsberg, The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe, and a phrase in the song Rivolta Silenziosa by Humanwine. Please check these out as they are awesome.

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Prologue

Jack is sitting in a padded room under control of the ministries of Truth and Love. This is his room 101. He hates his own reflection and always feared not being taken seriously. He tried to create an expose in which the tyrannical government incarcerated him as he was going against the One State. He has been in this room for almost a year, although he is suffering from ego dissolution and time dilation from the hardcore psychedelics to manipulate him to become a model citizen, as if they can control Jack, they can control the most disobedient and passionate about change and freedom. He is on a low dose of lysergic acid diethylamide although his water is filled with Joy, a type of drug designed to control people and release the most inner desires.

With(In)Sanity

By Jack Kirwood

(I couldn't think of a character's name:)

Setting:

Jack is sitting in a padded room wearing a straightjacket. There are sound effects of a catatonic broken piano, screaming, crying, dripping, hospital ambience and the sound of distant marching. In the middle of the back wall near the bared window with a dead raven has in capital letters, OCEANIA, ROCKWELL PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL, P.I.C.U, PSYCHIATRIC INTESTIVE CARE UNIT. 1926 – 1984, ROOM 101.

Strapped in the padded room 101, in the doublepluscold, dripping with supernatural darkness, reflecting on my madness starving hysterically naked under star light tight straitjackets. Crimethink is my conviction, life’s service is my addiction. Where I’m screaming against the harpies that call themselves doctors. “No tea until you’ve had your ‘Joy’” they implore… Doctors, witches and hell fire fiends, thieves, gargoyles, goblins and demons stealing my blood and drowning my dreams, drugging my water, poisoning my food. All my hopes are memory… in Rockland I laugh to myself to prevent the thoughts from taking over. Suicide I implore and nothing more, for fear is for sure lurking in the shadows, hidden from sight of mellow, the ecstasy from within my pillow. I’m here in Rockland upon a midnight dreary where my friends are madder than I. (Laughs manically) Where I ponder whether this existence is indeed hell induced by the Datura or some form of merciless pit of despair in which I have fallen a slumber. I wonder if I was ever sane… how long have I been here? An eternity or two, possibly three? Is this craziness infectious, or fictitious, surely not factitious? Am I myself? Am I reflection of my inner deeper desires? Am I speaking a loud or in my head, all is the same in Rockland where we are beaten, shocked and forced to ingest hallucinogens designed to mend our minds...? These substances blur the lines between the real and the surreal, I can feel myself peel. This is their ordeal. Society’s rule and deal with Satan.

(Stands up, shakes his head violently as though changing persona and goes onto tip toes to watch outside, the SFX of marching becomes more pronounced. He strokes the bird with his head and watches outside.)

Tippy toes show me to look past the blinding tenement night and archfiend light, the sceptre guides spectres to the apocalyptical cryptical hierarchies that chant solemn songs that see no day of light. O’Brien, O’Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows. People chained and bared, breaking, creaking, seeking, shrieking while others are sneaking, or freaking at the sight of each other; for they know that anyone can turn at the dangling of a key. They haven’t seen! Behind the telescreens! Like I have, the soulless, boneless controllers inciting fighting, hiding, stabbing, shooting, torturing, murdering and destroying our hope, rapport and support. Those who have experienced this wish for a deport.

(Drinks drugged water)

Oh no. Please no more. The spinning room makes my stomach churn. The hallucinogens to tear me a part while I fear my tears are transforming into vicious vulturous acid eating away at my flesh. I can feel myself fall down the rabbit hole, whole. Patterns of blissfulness illuminate the solemn room from the ecstasy of life. Euphoria fills me with warmness from my tippy toes to my anointed temple and love fills me fully with a tender touch to my heart… (Stares at the wall giggling) why can’t the world live as one? We are all one entity enriched by what makes us unique. We are designed to live harmoniously, bring back our tribal days! Before the hate-speech, new think, fake-news, CCTV spies, reality TV lies, wavering national alliances, sickening Victory Gin, toxic tobacco, disposable people, monuments to the One State, forced blind faith and arrogant inflated infatuated ego set on self-perseverance, the needs of the few out weight the needs of the many. Starvation, legalised slavery, encouraged and cheered public torture and hangings.

We live in a perpetual motion machine in which we live true Kafkaism, we elect corrupt dressed up pigs, who owns more pigs with guns. And only those who are allowed guns are permitted to defend themselves, the act of self-defence is a crime within itself. Those who cannot defend themselves are at the mercy of the pigs. The raise of tyranny was subtle. Did we really think it would be as obvious as the Nazis’? The one-state illegalised LSD, DMT, Marijuana, Ayahuasca and Psilocybin, in the name of the war on drugs. A war on drugs is a war on people. These innocent souls need love and rehabilitation, in which these tribal medicines are designed to elevate the symptoms of Amphetamine and Opioid withdrawal. An artificial problem inflicted by the pharmaceutical companies to get people addicted to legal medication, opposed to tribal tradition. These mind-altering substances criminalised by the one-state was to prevent peaceful hippies from spreading their ideologies of peace and harmony in the name of combined consciousness for the betterment of the individual and society as a whole. What is this cruel instruction manual that dictates the norms. The forbidden texts classified as anti-government, anti-authoritarian, anti-war, anti-torture and anything else opposed to the one-state.

(Starts crying)

Raven? Beautiful raven. Stop it with your consistent slamming. Stop smashing your skull against the bared steel window as it will steal your soul again and again, and again (Louder) and again and again… The soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madho0use… There is no salvation only starvation, stagnation and desolation, there is no civilisation within this nation. Fear is falling from a loaded sleeve fluent in the tongue of greed, a master at the art of sleaze, whose walls are a fiendish grin of rotten desolation, paranoid isolation, fuelling our blood stained machines the bells of free-dumb liberty, the smell of gunshot bitter sweet. The prize of life surprise it’s eating at your eyes. Made out of skin, it’s kin eating kin, cogs living in the burning city from within.

From rubble, squalors and slums we rise. From this our unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster followed fast and followed faster. The corrupt boot of autocracy came stomping down forever on our face… A long time ago, I would have said God has a plan for us. Now we say Big Brother has a plan for us, and each one of us is vital for its survival. In Big Brother we trust. Family first, nothing is as inseparable as a man’s love for his country. Ultra-nationalism the only family you need.

As day turns to night, and my grain is granted. The acidic water takes its toll, and I begin to turn into a troll. I roll around and spin, for as long as I am insane I will live to trip another day. My words are voiceless, sight is blind and truth forgotten. The real is surreal and obscene like a crime-scene. All that’s left for me is isolation, depression and no hope of salvation.

(Lays down, the sounds of marching become more pronounced.)