Red curtains close as a man with a white shirt, steps from the darkness. He has no head. He moves towards me quickly, not stepping, but floating. He raises his right arm and points to me. He screams at me, “You will be punished!” The rain is warm as it falls on my face.
My left foot has been cut off, the blood drips down the side of the boat and on to the desert floor.
This airport is noisy, but the soup down the road is better.
Darkness follows me everywhere I go and pain is on the dessert menu at mall. Lost in the shops, exposed for what I am, everyone can see me, but no one knows me.
The rain is still warm.
The bodies have already been cut up; they just need to be removed.
Was that the primary buffer panel?
3 Musketeers? Really? Sorry I didn't remember.
Hungry. Horny. I hate sex; wish I never had to have it ever again. Sex gives me a false sense of reality.
The mouse is fine but the car door is stuck in the elevator.
Satin is soft, but the rain is still warm.
Kill or be killed – or just plain kill. I hate everyone but everyone loves me. Darkness, love, desire, lust, pain, and death. These are a few of my favorite things. Should I cry, should I care? I breathe in the air only to find a stain on the carpet.
I love the rain. I love the pain. I hate the rain. I hate the pain. I love to hate.
The bar is open, but the drink are not free. The last supper has started and the main course is me.
Oh wait, it's not rain, it's blood.