One drip of water is all it takes to drive a man insane, yet here I am, torturing my torturers by keeping my treasured wits. What they don’t know, what they’ll never know, is that past the drip of water is my skull and then my brain. This organ functions quietly as I fold my inner self deeper and deeper down into a canyon of my mind.
The air is dry wrapped up in an arid atmosphere where the dripping of water acts as if the hand of Christ were blessing me. Their torturous stream is my salvation and with each drop my strength of self grows. They will not break the dam because just as the river floods the Grand Canyon, spring follows with wild flowers blooming.
Let them bathe me in their diseased waters and watch me emerge a blissful soldier of earth’s good fortune. I have won the war they started fighting they need only to lay down their arms.