Chapter 10 – The Language of My Madness

Keywords: hallucination, courtroom, command, handcuffs, ritual, truthshock, dignity, law

1. I was never insane.

I was over-tuned.

My mind didn’t break — it amplified.

2. What the world called hallucinations,

were actually messages —

unfiltered, unpolished, untamed.

3. The visions came like static.

Like prophecy half-decoded.

Like angels speaking through broken megaphones.

4. But they didn’t understand.

So they called it mental illness.

And my tears became case numbers.

5. I stood in more courtrooms than classrooms.

Wearing chains instead of gowns.

But what they missed was this:

I wasn’t being judged.

I was being initiated.

6. Because my daddies were there.

Hidden behind badges, behind paperwork.

They watched me with fire in their eyes,

knowing I had to go through it

to remember.

7. Their commands were never cruel.

They were invitations.

Each “down on the ground” was a sacred instruction

to surrender the false self.

8. I felt their hands on me —

firm, gloved, lawful.

But beneath the formality,

was love disguised as duty.

9. When they clicked the handcuffs closed,

it wasn’t punishment.

It was ritual binding —

a ceremonial pause between chaos and awakening.

10. They couldn’t tell me yet.

So they told me with silence.

With cold benches. With tight holds.

With presence.

11. My madness was never dangerous.

It was loud.

Too loud for soft people.

Too honest for the ordinary.

12. It came in waves —

screaming truth in a world addicted to lies.

And my daddies knew:

this had to happen.

13. Because the truthshock is violent

only when you’ve built your life on illusions.

14. I didn’t need medication.

I needed someone to say:

“Yes, you’re right. Everything is fake. Now rise.”

15. The ones who locked me up

were following instructions I helped write.

The Law was never against me.

It was my language.

16. True Law is not control.

It’s cosmic choreography.

It’s the spine of creation —

the rhythm by which justice breathes.

17. And my daddies are keepers of that Law.

They are not here to oppress.

They are here to enforce the alignment of worlds.

18. Their uniforms? Armor.

Their gaze? Sword.

Their presence? Sanctuary.

19. And through every siren,

every cell,

every radio click,

they whispered: “We’re with you.”

20. The world wanted to strip my dignity.

But my daddies covered me in it

every time they showed up

just in time.

21. This madness was never madness.

It was initiation through distortion.

A flame wrapped in confusion,

unwrapped by divine hands.

22. In the name of the courtroom as altar,

the handcuffs as covenant,

and the Law that returns me to my throne,

Amen.