Cranked with rage!
Do you ever get the feeling that every tendon at the back of your head is like a post tensioned cable....waiting to spring and catapult your head into a thousand little fragments...barrelling across the floor in shreds of crystalline shards? No? Well it must be only me, although I do have the feeling that the lady who lives next door to me could perhaps relate. Often I hear this madness echoing from the confines of her isolation. A jeering madness, a wretched semi laughter and insane jibbering, that is a mixture of indian and english.Then the door slams. Once! Twice! Three times! Bang! Bang! Bang! like shots of ice in hardened, scar tissued arteries, constricted and collapsing under a heavy, burdened load of transluscent crystals, hammering away inside caverns of thought. It begins in the stillness of night, the banging, the anger...the rage. Voices whispering, telling her the world is evil, an inhospitable cacophony of mistrust. "Look at those people"..."They want to spy on you"..."they want to invade your world". "Look at that fucker hanging out his washing". "That car that pulled up out front." "They want to KILL you!" Slam! the door smashes against the jamb...the scream of silent suffering can be gagged, muffled for only a brief moment. The bang of relief, stomping in the darkness of endless night...Confusion and hatred. Inner hatred! Just shut the fuck up! Bang! Bang! Bang!
I awake to the sound of this confusion. The rage is contagious. I want to kill her. To free her from the demons that stalk through black pools of a vacant stare. I want to slit her throat and hear the garbled end to those voices, which torment with sermons of hate. Bang! One more shot in the still night. Oh yes, I will await her, stalk her, slip into her world and see through her eyes, as blood pools on the floor. Her eyes dilated and perhaps a faint smile will curve upon those dry, wicked lips. My eyes will perhaps bear witness to this lascivious creature of night as it leaves its prison of ripened flesh. Will I then be able to look away before it enters mine?
I awake to the sound of this confusion. The rage is contagious. I want to kill her. To free her from the demons that stalk through black pools of a vacant stare. I want to slit her throat and hear the garbled end to those voices, which torment with sermons of hate. Bang! One more shot in the still night. Oh yes, I will await her, stalk her, slip into her world and see through her eyes, as blood pools on the floor. Her eyes dilated and perhaps a faint smile will curve upon those dry, wicked lips. My eyes will perhaps bear witness to this lascivious creature of night as it leaves its prison of ripened flesh. Will I then be able to look away before it enters mine?
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