There’s a stocky Slovakian who likes to pace past my doorway, each time making prolonged eye contact with me. Sometimes I wave over enthusiastically as if I hadn’t seen him for years and is if I liked him. He pisses in sinks and gorges on scraps from the bins. He steals boxer shorts and breaths through his mouth. I often wonder why he is here, in this place and just in general.

To gain admittance to this enclosed utopia you have to transgress in some shape or form. I like to think that the ‘Slovakian scavenger’ was once a chef in his home country who sought revenge on a brutish underwear merchant who stole his original pants. Instrumental violence has left him in a medium secure unit in England where he can barely understand anyone and has no option but to hang around out side of my fucking room. I can smell him.

I had six steroid injections in to my lower back today so there will be no waving. In fact I’m contemplating shutting that door, it’s just I like to hear whose approaching. I can tell. The monosyllabic Chinese man is light on his feet and also paces. One man sings random Christmas songs, and most importantly the staff/serfs have various keys or alarm devices jangling.

If you lay on a bed all day and have insomnia you soon notice every sound on the ward. Everything runs like clockwork. It’s more like a processing facility. The serving hatch and meds hatch open and certain doors open at certain times, you notice the routines and patterns of everyone. The only random things are the farts emitted and they linger due to no airflow.

If you are familiar with medications, I take Tramadol, the max dose of Pregabalin, a little bit too much Clonazepam, and a smidgen of Olanzapine alongside Zopiclone and Aripriprazol. Some of these are controlled drugs. They make me smile, stagger and bump into things. I think I’m in love with them. I am currently not allowed leave as I complained to the Psychiatrist that when I was recently given Morphine, as well as codeine phosphate, I was signed out for five hours and didn’t really know what had happened in that time. I did call him a privileged slave which may have had something to do with his decision to remove it.



I would like to do a regular piece of writing describing my experiences

as a detained psychiatric offender currently in a medium secure unit.

I will also tell you how I came to be here and share a few stories.

I hope you enjoy.