every now and then I consider murdering someone just for the fun of it a thought invading my brain and then it's off to the graveyard of hopes & dreams or wherever that **** goes
I once considered murdering the voice in my head it belongs to the man who lives across the street from me I'm one side of a magnet and he's a ***** if you get what I'm saying.
once I bashed his ******* head in that was nice snot and blood and bile and who knows what else dripping from his smashed eye sockets I had good dreams that night
if I had the chance how would I go about it? a slash to the throat maybe frame his ******* toddler in her tricycle a club to the brain is quicker but so last week maybe cyanide in his soup his lips turning blue and convulsing before me or ******* on his throat squeezing and squeezing and ******* squeezing some more
but you mustn't think I'm mad, per se I'm working on dismissing my thoughts and I've only ever truly killed one person:
Me
Heavily inspired by "in the clubhouse" by Charles Bukowski