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STAPLE TAPEWORMS TO MY HEART SO THE FLESHWORM CAN DRINK

By: a guest on Jun 9th, 2012  |  syntax: None  |  size: 1.30 KB  |  hits: 31  |  expires: Never
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  1. The Journal of a Killer
  2.  
  3. May 23rd, 2012
  4. There is an idea of a -SCRATCHED OUT-; some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me: only an entity, something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable... I simply am not there.
  5.  
  6. May 26th, 2012
  7.  I have all the characteristics of a human being: blood, flesh, skin, hair; but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust. Something horrible is happening inside of me and I don't know why. My nightly bloodlust has overflown into my days. I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy. I think my mask of sanity is about to slip.
  8.  
  9. June 10th, 2012
  10. There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it I have now surpassed. My pain is constant and sharp, and I do not hope for a better world for anyone. In fact, I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape. But even after admitting this, there is no catharsis; my punishment continues to elude me, and I gain no deeper knowledge of myself. No new knowledge can be extracted from my telling. This confession has meant nothing.
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