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International House of Pain

International House of Pain

Ratings: (0)|Views: 31 |Likes:
Published by Derric Saville
International House of Pain

Derric Saville
April 25, 2013

Call my name and buzz me in,
to the International House of Pain,
I’ve traveled afar to reach these marbled walls,
where the Sadists in their white lab coats,
attach electrodes to the soles of your feet,
and announce each withering jolt,
in her own way,
as if to dampen her emotional pain,
preeminently aware of the lightning strikes,
soon to overtake your senses,
as the voltage rises with deliberate speed,
not like Milgram’s experiment with authority,
this time for real,
her foreknowing two inherently salient factors,
either your body twitches horrendously,
as your brain screeches out the pain,
or the ALS fatality of Gehrig’s bane,
for which they seek the failing traces,
can be confirmed,
but either way this patient loses,
in the International House of Pain.

But horrors of the corridors don’t cease,
until the man with the wired up needles arrives,
to begin his drilling for your irritated nerves,
to audibly fill the room,
with their wailing staccato static,
like television channels,
on the old black and white,
that cannot be watched,
whilst a thunderous storm passes through,
but you wiggle the antennae just the same,
as he does with his needles,
twisting and plunging,
for the heart of each nerve,
directing you to flex or relax that muscle for him,
forcing your participation,
in his glee filled mundanity,
wiping away the blood,
each time the needle is withdrawn,
and abrading your skin,
around the freshet wound,
to be certain traces of horror,
are just the weeping dots,
up and down your legs,
arm, hand, buttocks,
and lower back,
not to mention the one near your neck,
that spasm cramped your hand,
in such a flourish,
that the needle had to be withdrawn,
so you could massage away,
the knotted muscles for a minute or two,
while he impatiently waits to drill you there again,
because the testing needs to be complete,
he has paperwork to finish,
and a boss who needs an answer now,
because after two long hours of listening to you wince,
and cry out,
your doctor still needs the results,
when you see her late next hour,
so he retreats just a moment,
leaving you lying scantly covered,
by the bed linen they call a sheet,
that couldn’t warm a tiger in the sun,
checking with his master, or giggling at his mastery,
of another subject,
who will eventually dress himself,
limping noticeably,
on his exit to the waiting room,
carrying his left arm in his right,
blood dots clot blotted by his attire,
knowing only that the unrelated migraine,
with which he’d awoke,
could now be abated with the medicine he brought along,
further hoping it would dull his memory,
of willingly assenting,
to walk down the hall,
departing trepidatiously
on his third trip away,
from the International House of Pain.
International House of Pain

Derric Saville
April 25, 2013

Call my name and buzz me in,
to the International House of Pain,
I’ve traveled afar to reach these marbled walls,
where the Sadists in their white lab coats,
attach electrodes to the soles of your feet,
and announce each withering jolt,
in her own way,
as if to dampen her emotional pain,
preeminently aware of the lightning strikes,
soon to overtake your senses,
as the voltage rises with deliberate speed,
not like Milgram’s experiment with authority,
this time for real,
her foreknowing two inherently salient factors,
either your body twitches horrendously,
as your brain screeches out the pain,
or the ALS fatality of Gehrig’s bane,
for which they seek the failing traces,
can be confirmed,
but either way this patient loses,
in the International House of Pain.

But horrors of the corridors don’t cease,
until the man with the wired up needles arrives,
to begin his drilling for your irritated nerves,
to audibly fill the room,
with their wailing staccato static,
like television channels,
on the old black and white,
that cannot be watched,
whilst a thunderous storm passes through,
but you wiggle the antennae just the same,
as he does with his needles,
twisting and plunging,
for the heart of each nerve,
directing you to flex or relax that muscle for him,
forcing your participation,
in his glee filled mundanity,
wiping away the blood,
each time the needle is withdrawn,
and abrading your skin,
around the freshet wound,
to be certain traces of horror,
are just the weeping dots,
up and down your legs,
arm, hand, buttocks,
and lower back,
not to mention the one near your neck,
that spasm cramped your hand,
in such a flourish,
that the needle had to be withdrawn,
so you could massage away,
the knotted muscles for a minute or two,
while he impatiently waits to drill you there again,
because the testing needs to be complete,
he has paperwork to finish,
and a boss who needs an answer now,
because after two long hours of listening to you wince,
and cry out,
your doctor still needs the results,
when you see her late next hour,
so he retreats just a moment,
leaving you lying scantly covered,
by the bed linen they call a sheet,
that couldn’t warm a tiger in the sun,
checking with his master, or giggling at his mastery,
of another subject,
who will eventually dress himself,
limping noticeably,
on his exit to the waiting room,
carrying his left arm in his right,
blood dots clot blotted by his attire,
knowing only that the unrelated migraine,
with which he’d awoke,
could now be abated with the medicine he brought along,
further hoping it would dull his memory,
of willingly assenting,
to walk down the hall,
departing trepidatiously
on his third trip away,
from the International House of Pain.

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Published by: Derric Saville on Apr 25, 2013
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Derric Saville added this note
A year ago and still no solution to the daily destruction of my fibrous dying nerves, except the pain interceptors.
Derric Saville added this note
A voluntary electrocution and aggravation of nerves in the body with a long pin affixed to a lap top.
Derric Saville liked this
Derric Saville liked this
Derric Saville added this note
May no one ever run the torture gauntlet lying down.
Derric Saville liked this
Derric Saville added this note
I'd be interested to know if anyone had a similar experience with an EMG test. Please comment.
Derric Saville added this note
Words that are true bite harder than those merely posited.
Derric Saville added this note
Words that are true bite harder than those merely posited.
Derric Saville added this note
Notice the deliberate shift from first person, to second person, to third person perspective.

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