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Excerpts of Hell

Excerpts of Hell

Horror Flicks

I have nothing to do with that. The random acts of violence that have plagued your city for years have nothing to do with me. I know you sit and snicker at me, cast judgment and think that I caused all of this. You are all foolish, you will all look back and realize your life was nothing more than fools on parade. You string everyone around you along, set in your ways, your stupid ways. I see right through you . Hopefully I’ll soon be able to open you up and really see through you. That’s exciting, isn’t it?

I don’t know what day it is, let alone what year. I just drift. My personality is in shambles and I have no motivation to change. I’m sinking, becoming part of what is. You are what will never be. I scare you, I know I do, I can sense it. I can tear you to shreds, laughing all the while. Your life would crumble in my hands. You think you know what I am? You haven’t the slightest clue. You paste your labels on me and flaunt false titles. Just like you pray to false idols and confide in the hearts that have no hope. You yourself are hopelessly lost on a delusional path of vermin and filth.

I am broken, in a way. I sense myself spiraling down, down into the abyss. I contemplate taking things for granted, wonder if the decisions I have made were right. I’ve taken lives, I’ve taken pills, I’ve taken a wild ride on the crazy train. I whittle away at my mind, hoping that it will not function, that it will cease to exist. I sit in my cell and rock, back and forth, hitting my head on the cold, unforgiving stone walls. This prison doesn’t cage me, my existence does. What do you know about that? You know TV shows and Starbucks. You follow the latest fads and whore yourself out to fashion. Sick little puppet…fits like a glove.

All of them, they are the blind and the retched. They follow me, they mock you, hoping to cast their shadows on your soul. You’re a puppet. A worthless doll, shaken down and strung up to be toyed with. I hear things, see things, guiding me towards your damnation. The damnation of this place and everyone in it. You can collect my words, spin them as you may. You’ll see. You’ll know what I speak of when the day arrives.

Rats race around in the halls, chattering and snarling, causing me great discomfort. I can’t tell the difference between them and the rest, and I close my eyes and hope for the sound to go away. I travel around in my mind, looking for a solution to the growing, twisting problem being formulated on the gray, slate walls. I find answers in your flesh, I gain power from the fear in your eyes. What difference is it to you? You don’t need to live, you hate your life.

I can sense the sadness in your soul. You should let me rip that sadness from you, ending the pitiful little game you play with yourself. Who are you trying to kid? You stomp around here barking orders, flashing your shinny little badge. I’d like to cut your throat with that badge. All the while, the life draining from your face, I’d smile. That’s what would make me happy.

You sit in here, record me, listen to me, read what I have to write. I never understand why. Would you like to accompany me on my journey? I can show you great things, glorious things. I can help you feel sweet release as you dig your eyes out with your poisonous fingers. How sweet the sound of screams would be. Gives me shivers just thinking about it.

I’m in a psychotic haze. Drifting back and forth from the realm of reality and the realm of pure insanity. I can cope with it, but have quickly learned that you cannot. What is keeping you from terminating the relationship? What is stopping you from getting up and walking away, never to see me again? I see the pain and desperation seeping out of your pours. You long for touch, forgiveness and understanding. You can’t even stand to look at yourself in the mirror. It’s pathetic.

You just don’t get it. Nobody gets it. The war is here. It’s right here in America. Mental warfare. That’s what I call it. Drug addicts and hookers running the streets. Fancy boys marching in their fancy rainbow parades. People doing too much talking when they should be listening. Our society is rotting from the inside out. It’s disgusting, it’s disturbing, yet you say that I’m the one with the problem. I’m the one who needs to be solved? Like I’m some puzzle or something.

I’ll tell you what I can do, I can make a puzzle out of your skin. You ever eat human flesh? It’s rather tasty. Cook it up with some broccoli, add some soy, a delicious cuisine. I’ll cook up your whole damn family if I ever get out of here. Now you don’t see that happening, do you? I see it everyday. I replay it in my mind, over and over. I’ll walk down the road with your wife, hand in hand. I”ll hold her close while she screams, you’ll watch like a good little boy. Seems like a miracle to me. It’s a miracle in motion.

You can’t really listen to me. It all goes in one ear and out the other. You only hear what you want to hear, you have the same problem as everyone else. You are too caught up in your everyday bullshit to see what’s really going on around here. It’s like you have blinders on. Stupid, hazy eyed story tellers and dream weavers . That’s what I have. That’s what I’m showing. I’m showing it through, are you?

I’m done here.

Taken from Michael William Kerringer, Burke Main Psychiatric Hospital, 2007

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