Of the insomniac
Letters flowing through my head
again and again and again and again
JUST GO TO BED!
Don't fucking scream at me!
I hate this mind spasm of letter crashes
Waves of words roll into my mind
Erase all sleep
I guess I have time
Light went out, dink tink
Or maybe thats just my eyes,
Wow how the time flies
When your having fun with...
But hey I still got good old me
Sometimes but lately
Im loosing myself and I.
take one step forward
open your eyes
the world will grow
if you sleep
face this with me
cry with me
it will not end
and not tomorrow
so please wake up
get through this
I must have done something incredible
to deserve a friend like you. My karma
has finally aligned... or maybe it
is just luck. Before you, my head would hit
the pillow and I would beg for softness
to embrace me, to take me from this world
of barbed edges and harshly sketched faces
and into a place with beauty and wonder.
Now, softness awakes me. There are no jagged
lines or vacant expressions here, only
smoothness and blurred dots for daylight behind
the smiling face of future.
As I wiped the blade the congealing efforts of
what had perspired dripped in raindrops of lost essence,
I started to be nostalgic of when it all started and I smiled.
It isn't easy you know doing this hobby
its a full time commitment,
I have responsibilities. And before you ask just because I live
in my moms basement it didn't have any implications to this
and what led to my endeavours of what I do now.
"You cant just go out stabbing people that bath salts territory
for goodness sakes,
Ok when did it start, around fifteen years ago give or take.
To think about it I was quite violated by the sight of blood,
I passed out at school when someone cut there finger. I know
from fainting to where I am today the paradox of it all.
So I was walking home and I thought stupidly to take a short
cut, I know that's just asking for a dilemma of consequences
but I was running late and thought overrode reason.
"Safer than sorry my mother would say,
I should really listen to words of wisdom than to just throw
them aside and regret them later. Well this time was a moment
of ignorance and I delved into my darker side and threw abandonment
to the winds of chance. I saw that idiot and knew without a thought
that his life needed to be forfeit in the eyes of the many.
In haste I went out and without planning I just used a unregistered firearm. These are so easy to find in ponds, lakes, rivers.You just have
to be stupid enough as I was to delve into them with a wet suit.
It was like swimming in the disgrace of humanity and I accidently
swallowed more of humanity than I wish to admit. As I reached
the shore of the golf course I had found a stupid amount of guns....
Do these pools ever get dredged?? how many angry golfers play
on this field?? but I just cleaned a few out not wiping away the prints,
silly little fools leaving there prints on the weapons.
I must admit the first five or six people that were my pleasure
of ending were just arse holes, total and utter fuck-tards....
I know you just cant just going around killing totally
worthy munchkins. But it was my weaving of knowledge
into the formula of departing my subjects in a manner so that
a milk carton was the only focus they would get.
Never to show that they were an item of interest but a random appearance of some disillusioned person in a vendetta of misunderstood reasoning's.
But this lost its stimulation of enthralment pretty quickly
due to the vacant space between us. It wasn't as if they knew
my face, it was just a finger pull and I ended them to hastily,
I even felt somewhat remorseful for them not knowing the
perpetrate of there demise. and a few ran still lingering to this
existence, do you realize the skill set to hit a moving target.
But none got to far, I didn't take it personally, it was a fight
or flight reaction.
But they were always vacant of life when I walked away
from the scene. I was always throwing these weapons
after a few uses, those that had used it before there prints
still viable. So those that had used it were to blame for
these indiscretions that I had partaken in. Karma was about
to visit upon those lost stories that drowned in that pond.
Learning was a curve that was thrown, and one that hit me
square between the eyes. I had slatted the impression that
I was in the right, and even though I wanted to seep the blade
into the flesh of my perspective victim. I had to watch
the implications of what I had preserved in that moment.
There were struggles and definitions of what was acceptable.
I still had to hold a job, I worked in a hardware store,
"what are the chances, I know. But where you would think
someone that could easily end the breath of another would
stand out only the crazy ones. We the methodical ones were
patient, too many and whispers starting and I needed silence this
had to be obeyed and enforced by myself. Urges had to vetted
another way and painting was my outlet for these compulsions.
Each one of us had as we called it our own unique murder kits,
well what did you think we were going to call them hobby boxes.
Me I had a ways to disable my prey, a motion to move them concealed.
I had a people carrier,
"I know the humour didn't escape me either,
I had constructed a vessel to keep them static so not to move
and give the game away, kind of like a straight jacket restraint.
For the murmurs I had constructed a gold fish bowl of sorts,
constructed around the neck and then white noise is pumped
in revoking the screams because of the frequencies of the
"science is so cool,
Do you realize it took five years of planning and a college
class in science to do many aspect of this hobby.
But where do I take them, to there own home, always
checking there schedules. Movement = time = opportunity.
And this is how I have worked all this time, consistency is
what keeps the path clear for other endeavours.
The sense of smell in each home is unique, some people
though no respect of there surroundings and who may visit.
Do realize that some don't voice opinion as they know
if there in this predicament no words are going to change it.
Some struggle, but I learnt to use a paralyzing agent to render
them motionless. Sedated only tears fall from there suspended
features. I never clean up there mess, I'm not a house maid for
goodness sakes all must be as it was. But I clean up my killing
venture so there is no evidence of there parting here.
I have a little spot, we all have our own hiding places,
research is the key, and mine was a secluded place....
I cant explain where, as that would be telling and who
knows who's reading these passages. I must admit though
this is a full time obsession, "norms, that's you people.
Wouldn't realize the stresses that happen upon my psyche.
All I would say is
"Don't quite your day job
This isn't really a hobby for most, they don't have the
patience the needing of planning and the waiting of
who shall gift you their last moment then nothingness.
I am wired different to you people. My empathy for
your feelings is non-existent, we are a moment in time
and I plan to silence your hour glass, your grain is about
to fall into oblivions sights and it will swallow you whole.
boy, caught up in the dark,
as night drifts,
dark in her clouds.
sink to earth,
poured from a water jug
a dark, crackling sky.
night's thick opiates
dreams carried to the stars,
stretching like a cat.
boy, sleep sound tonight,
as night drifts
dark in her clouds.
Whats wrong with me that I'm awake
just staring blankly into space.
When your always up you start to ache,
in heart, and mind and every place.
It's lonely at night when everyone sleeps,
and I'm alone to try to dream.
Morning comes and my alarm beeps,
now I'm dim, watching everyone gleam.
Sleep sounds so easy, lazy and nice,
I say as I try to close my eyes.
I just wanted you to know
I never had any desire
to take care of another living thing
until you laid your head in my lap.
I never got the chance to tell you
I believed heaven to be the sound
of your breathing as you fell asleep,
so I told him instead.
It wasn't quite the same,
but I guess it was close enough.
May I be the song
To which you drive down the highway
When it's snowing
And dark and cold
And all those wonderful things?
May I be the quiet exhale
When you think back to when
You were a child
And I was your favourite word
Running your mouth around my smile
And grinning like you were all teeth
When you heard my voice in your head?
May I be the old carpet
That makes your toes warm
When you go for a walk
In your living room
And think about those times
Those wonderful times?
But may I please also be
Sleeping beside you
When you go back to bed
After the cup of tea you didn't need
May I be
The form you smile at
When you think
Of nothing at all?
Or is that too much to ask?