My kidneys were badly bruised. I was in a motorcycle accident. At the hospital, they started to talk about “cascade.” I was a failure to doctors. Do these authority figures have any concept of dignity whatsoever. No, they do not. This piece puts religion into the mix. If religion is a metaphor so is the idea of its opposite. Evil. I took back my clothes. I am not asking anyone to share my rage at the American version of Just What Is a Life. I am not asking you to hate like I hate. It’s a burning deep inside my gut. Bruising on my kidneys is nothing. They have abused me enough. I slipped away. Quietly. I waited until a big family walked by in the lobby. They were leaving. I walked out the door with the family who had no idea I was even with them. I limped home with broken bones. I set them myself. I do not need experts. I do not care about death. I do not want to be among homo sapiens. Americans are hard and mean. Compliance is not me. There was the cattle call where we would all be naked and probed by evil people. I hate people. So, I’m standing in the middle of the hallway completely naked and people are walking by and laughing. I decided I would walk out. Where are my clothes. They took them to deter me from leaving. I called the police. They stole my clothes. Another patient told me where they took my clothes. My death belongs to me. I will not allow them to touch me ever again. Their Modus Operandi is humiliation and defeat. My kidneys healed all by themselves.

s.