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Saturday, 1 December 2012


Cold eyes
Bold face.
A serial killer
Being birthed within
The other personality.

A war of duality
Raging in my mind.
Meditating on the sequence
Of the sickening silence
Of a blunt blade slicing raw flesh.
With the deep red blood
Oozing like slow dancers
The euphoric sensation gotten
From the screams of the victim
Is the only natural high
That affords me undiluted ecstasy.
Murder has become my drug.
A thought that starts to overshadow
My light with darkness

Then my conscience drips the essence
Of innocence
Into my heart
Forming the warmth
That begins to thaw
My frozen thoughts
Of menace
Preserved for that deathly day.
I then smell my thoughts
The stench fills the lungs
Of my memory.

Reminding me
This is not me
I am not evil
I am not evil
Then...I pass out...

[How influential is your conscience?]