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madness

Rage Fueled Blindness

We all have demons we struggle with. Fear of them taking control. And sometimes they do. And sometimes it feels good after we’re done with our fear.

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Pained finger. Cracks and snaps. Deep breaths to get over it. Get it over with. Nausea at the pit of my stomach. Monstrous transformation I’ve undergone. Malice I begun with. Could use a gun, but the pop would make it too real. I don’t want to run. Craving the numbness.
Tight grip, I squeeze. Thought bubbles surface. Words in silence. Boiling water hides the violence. Struggles to keep inside. Hopes to hide. Hopes to die. Tears roll down red eyes. Lingering moments that don’t go by. Branded images. Back of the mind. Persistent twists of liquid mist obscuring things. Rage filled. Caged and ill. Killed will power. Standing still, towers, tall build. Showers of blood ripple. Screaming “enough.” Chilled spine. Raised hairs. Tunnel vision. Blinded sight. Regrets but no want to fight. Sensations that feel right to relieve the pint up aggression. Repression released in the middle of…

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Staying Alive IV

Survival and starvation breed insanity in the minds of the weak willed.
The weak don’t last long.
Here’s Alex.

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The voices scramble in my head. Fighting. Striking all the cords. Lighting sparking up my neurons. Causing pain. So on. And so on.

The scent of sulfur squeezes in under the crack of the door. Seductive. Alluring. It could all be over if I give in. A doorknob away.

Pitch black footsteps on the other side. Some drag. Others pace.

A scent which promotes a familiar taste. Iron. Strong. It lingers in this place.

Greed lead the curious cat to Death’s door. Whether or not I want to remain here anymore is no longer a choice I get to make. Best case scenario is to endure.

It’s been days and the daze is setting in. Not many ways this could end. I’ve already debated running outside. And I hate it, knowing I might die. But there’s no other way to…

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Turn Tables

Having tracked and cornered Arthur, the detective has the tables turned on him.

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Static charged, the manic man at large wrecks havoc as he travels far
Terror through fear, like the fuhrer from years ago, then goes steers clear and disappears
Near the sand he stands, hands in the sky, he’s mad, the detective failed his plan
Didn’t matter how hard he tried, the crazed guy got the jump, now the good’ll die
Cries and pleads for life, but the look in those evil eyes say, “nice try”
The gun fires, it’s dark like he’s tired, visions of his dead father he admires
Volume down, all goes quiet, total absence of a riot
Memories fade, euphoria fills the brain, insane malice won the day
  

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