Diary of a Mass Murderer

Bullied since I entered the building

For my weirdly shaped head

I thought I was better?

The insults grind up and smash

against my tiny brain

Like a storm of jagged stones

They even throw them at me

 

My family can’t even look at me

They pass my room

Squeaking some faint noise

Shove my food on a tray and slide it

Under my door, like a prison

“Have you got a job yet?”

 

Their names stand like ghosts

Whispering around my brain

I can hear their words in my dreams

That’s right, I’m nothing, my ocean

The shampoo in my eyes

 

She left me and I felt nothing

I’ve played out the scene in my head

A thousand times before in my mind

Before we even met

I acted sad on the stage

But in actuality nothing is reacting

I just drink a glass of orange juice

 

The nitrous fills my lungs

I float higher than the balloon in front of me

 

When I come back down

My eyes break like glass

 

Raided

A crack that was once sealed

Tears open in my heart

The unnamed creatures pour out

Winged, finned

Thousand legged

Thousand eyes

Countless monsters

Wreak havoc in my body

They pull at my heart strings

They cement my thoughts

They dry my skin

Scratching behind my eyes

With their claws

Their laughter

Denies me any focus

I once had

I let their destructive rage

Continue

Until they tire

And go home

I re-seal the crack

To begin repairs on my body

 

A Million Angry Flies

A million flies blind my view

Their swarming black bodies buzz against me

I can feel their sick warmth

They are all I can hear

All I can

See

I walk

In search of an exit

The more I move

The more aggrivated they become

Their buzzing changes tone

Landing en-masse on my pasty skin

Vibrating their wings so rapidly

I begin to melt gradually

I close my eyes in absolute

Terror

 

The buzzing stops

I open my eyes

Slowly

A pure white horizon

Burnt out silver sun

I see her silhouette

 

I swear I can hear harps

A Simple Man

He sang with a simple voice

Simple, but honest

He led a normal life

Read easy, fluffy books

Had cliche memories

And such pleasant dreams

He felt something was wrong

When everything was right

The world was not so simple as he thought it

An empty hole gaping further across his heart

Filling itself with overused inspirational quotes

The words turned to jumbled up letters

So he did what any sane man would do

He took his own life

And the simple people wondered why

The Human Condition

Walking on into a field

Where blood has been spilt

Soldiers have bayoneted one another

Bullets have teared and ripped skin

Lances have pierced and run down many men

Horses have trampled faces into the ground

Swords have butchered flesh

Cannons have spread body parts into beautiful artworks

Dogs have feasted upon terrified foxes

Young women have bled here in painful solitude

Men have cut themselves raw

Shell shock

Bombs

Gas

Hysterical laughter

Graveyards

Screams

Maggots

Angels and demons

The bible

The grass is red, so, so red

The Devil is here

And he has been fed

 

The Buddha

Calm, the epitome of calm

Serene, sitting on a seat of flowers

He fights the demons of his mind

With love and careful listening

He makes friends with them

He tricks them into submission

He makes them lose their jobs

Their livelihoods, with subtle persuasion

Their children

Will go begging in the streets

Of his brain

Looking for jobs

While he sits there

On a seat of flowers

Making love with his peace

 

Old Arthritis

I was walking on the pavement

Cars passing every so often

Old man from across the street

A road seperates us

Walking arthritis

You could hear the cracking of bones

From miles away

I don’t know why he bothers coming out

It’s more hassle than it’s worth

Stay indoors, old man

Let your bones rest

Let them wither, twist and writhe

Inside of your skinny, fading frame

Unable to urinate by yourself

Pathetic

You are dead-weight

In this hard-working society

 

Walking in the middle of the road

Hit by a car

Real hard

I can’t move

I don’t feel anything

Numb

The old man walks slowly

Passing my body

His eyes on mine

For the longest time

I hear a pained snigger

He leaves me on the road

Walking away

At least he can, I suppose