Ragin’, Full On
What do we know about bipolar disorder?
What constitutes a disorder, anyway? Who the fuck is ANYONE to tell you that your emotions are inappropriate?
Bipolar disorder will send you to the hospital, if you throw it around too much. But when you get put away for it, you meet some interesting fellows. I had the opportunity to meet some damn fine soldiers who had seen too damn much, I was lucky enough to have a nurse at the ER who waited patiently for my anger to subside. I was lucky enough that she was there to guard over me like a caged animal.
These soldiers I mentioned live in a locked ward next to the laundry room. They are not allowed to mix with the general public. I don’t know what they did and I don’t care. I saluted every one of them. One of them went so schizoid he forgot how to use a toilet and he thinks that every one who likes him is his nurse.
I…was not worthy to receive his agony. I am a piece of human dogshit compared to some of the people I met. One of them threw water at me and said I should bathe in pigshit. That’s worse than dogshit, in case you were wondering.
I picked up the water and threw it back at him from the floor and asked for drills. I completed every movement and asked for more until he told me to stand at ease. What a gift, to be exhausted by a black, hard as tempered steel NCO.
Whew! Now that’s Christmas. Fuck my Fender, I got schooled by some of the hardest men living. I rolled their wheelchairs. I kissed them.
I hate war.
But if you don’t like soldiers, you are a piece of human shit with no intrinsic worth to anyone. They don’t even know what they were fighting for, but they did it anyway. They believed in something called America.
I am no flag sucker. It’s not at half-mast; it is upside down, screaming for you worthless motherfuckers to save it.
Don’t even salute it. You stay away from that flag until you know what it meant to some people.
Bang! A twenty one gun salute to all of those maniacs still on their feet.
I hope the noise hurts your ears.