"Guess the black bugs have come, my friend, to get me"

If I could impart one bit of wisdom...
one small nugget of knowledge...
one piece of advice...
upon all of ye reading the ramblings of me while I sit here in this cell and await nothing but, well, nothing, it would be to try what I have done to get here.
Kill. It just feels good.

The freedom, catharsis, and orgasmic ecstacy I felt while I opened up throats and gouged eyes, while I took "inflicting pain" to a whole new level, while I carved holes into people just to find a different way to fuck them, was unlike any amount of cocaine ingested by Tony Montana. The crazy drug-fueled orgies in which men like John Holmes and Ron Jeremy would partake have nothing on the pleasure I felt while I killed.

Some would call me a pervert, some might use the word sicko. I've been called a freak. But no one has ever called me a human being. Do you know what that's like? I eat, I breathe, I shit, I fuck. Just like you. I'm not a stupid man. I maintained above-average grades in school until I was expelled.
But that's something we'll have to touch upon later.
You'll come to love me. I know you will.



The first time I did it, I didn't plan on it. Didn't know it was gonna happen until I came to and found my index fingers two knuckles deep in the eyes of the kid who was sitting in front of me on the bus. She couldn't have been much more than fourteen, and she was one of those emo-fags. That's what I choose to call 'em. You know the kind; they go around with their hair dyed black and styled in such a way that it covers their face, piercings in body parts that have no need for metal.

I've never been a fan of the "emo" style. Never will be. I don't know what it was about this girl that set me off, but when I caught a glimpse of her, I felt some kind of rage building in me. Try to think of it as a pot of water on the stove put over a low flame... ever so slowly building heat... minute by minute, getting hotter and hotter until.. KABLOOEY...
That's essentially what happened. By the time it was nearing my stop, I had made my mind up I had to kill this bitch. I wanted to make a statement to these kids. I had to. I felt deep inside that it was my mission to rid the world of those which I deem "not normal". Emo-fags just don't cut it. Lots of people just don't cut it, but all do-gooders of the world have to start somewhere.

I didn't get off my stop as planned. Luck was on my side, as "Jenny" (i don't know her name, and didn't care to find out) seemed to be going a bit farther out on the circuit. The bus was getting to the point where it had to turn around and restart it's run, so Jenny got off two stops after me. I let two people get off before me, smiling and gesturing with my right arm that I didn't mind them going ahead. So far, everything was hunky-dory. A-ok. Comin' up roses, if you will.

The day was fantastic, but moonlight would soon be creeping in. It must have been near suppertime, judging on how low in the sky the sun was.
(have I mentioned I'm a very observant person)
For an early spring evening, it was fairly warm. For that, I was thankful. I figured young Jenny wouldn't be in a rush to get home and warm up. Then again, who knows with those fuckin' emo-fags?

But no, luck did happen to be in my favour once again. She had to walk along a stand of trees that lead into a section of the town park. There was a little path just to her right; a path I was very familiar with. I grew up in this town, and know Sunshine Park like the back of my hand. I've taken this particular bus route many times before... and I guess it's kinda funny that the little bitch just so happened to be there, at that day, at that time. She should have just stayed home.

I think it's fair to mention that the town is usually dead (there I go with the wordplay; I can't help myself!) on Saturdays. There's a farmer's market on the other side of town, and the theater usually brings in lots of people, as does that new comedy club that's opened up. I guess people are always looking for something new.

Oh my, I've gone off on a ramble. I need to tell this first story before they turn the lights out on me!! There's nothing more frustrating than trying to write in the dark.

I am very, very thankful for the inventors of mp3 players and headphones. Emo girl had no clue I was walking faster and faster to catch up with her, as she simply couldn't hear my rapidly approaching footsteps. If there were any cars going by, they certainly would have noticed something was up.

I must remind you once again of that path... Timing is everything, and as I got within grabbing distance, that's exactly what I did. Grab.
She screamed... Oh man, did that little cunt try to make noise. But I quickly covered her mouth with my right hand, and pinned her arms with my left. Being left-handed, it would make sense to use my strongest arm, right?

Who would've thought a fourteen year old girl would have so much fight in her? I had to find a way to silence her, and silence her I did.
I dragged her farther into the woods, and off the beaten path. I mean, who wants to be caught doing what I was about to do, right? But the light was quickly fading anyway... And in the state of mind I found myself in, I didn't see the need in being that careful.

Man, could this girl ever put up a fight. She was squirming and moving and jumping and twitching. As with any forest, you're bound to find a tree stump or two. So what'd I do? I bashed her head against one.
And I did it again.
She stopped screaming. Stopped making noise.
But I could tell she wasn't quite dead, because her chest was slowly moving up and down. The little bitch still had some life in her.
"We can't have that, can we?", I asked myself,
"Nope. Methinks you should do something about those eyes, just in case she comes to", I thought.

So here's where we get to the part where I was knuckle-deep in her eye sockets with my index fingers. It really wasn't that gross when I pierced her eyeballs. Think of it as putting your finger into a bowl of old Jell-o. Soft, yet still kind of hardened. That popping sound isn't one I'll soon forget, and the goo that oozed out around my fingers and down her cheekbones was almost satisfying. My palms were resting on her face, and I had the thought to fuck up her face as much as possible. I just had to.

My thumbs immediately went up her nose, and tore upwards. I'm surprised how easily her nose came off her face. Oh, did I mention how much she twitched and writhed on the ground while I popped out her eyeballs? I don't think I noticed when she actually died, but I didn't care. I had to demonize this body.

With her nose gone from her face and hanging off my right thumb, I took notice to a noise approaching me. People? Might have been. But again, I wasn't fearful. Not in the least. Once you pop, it's like a container of Pringles; you can't stop.

Given the fact that she was my first, and I came unprepared, I had to work with what I had around me. Use my surroundings, y'know. Thankfully there were rocks of all sizes laying around. So I took one, and I brought it down on her mouth.
And I brought it down again.
And again.
Once more, just for luck. It was starting to look like she had fallen face first from the top of a building. Nothing was left to her fucked up mouth. Not even a tooth.
But man, I couldn't stop at the head. I took that rock, and I carved into her stomach. I carved into her legs, her thighs, her arms. The blood wouldn't flow, because little emo-bitch's heart had stopped beating long ago. I made her body look like Micheal J. Fox had tried to draw the Mona Lisa with a utility knife on it.

Oh, the joys and wonders of a rock. I had completely disfigured her face, her body, and the lives of those attached to her. When I stood up, I had a realization. An epiphany, if you will.

I had to rid the world of those I deemed unfit for human interaction. It was up to me to kill off the freaks, the unworthy, and the useless. God was telling me something. And I would not get caught. I was a smart man.

Lo and behold, here I am. Caught. I guess I ain't too smart, huh? I've been through trial, I've been into a regular cell, but that didn't work. Even the inmates were too enraged at my "work", the judge said.
Death, apparently, is too good for me. Death would be the easy way out, said the judge.

So here I sit in my little cell. The light is going to be turned off soon, so I've gotta clue up. You've got a little taste of what I have done.
I want to tell my story... and with nothing now but time to kill, I'll do just that. If you'll indulge me, you are in for one hell of a ride.

Something old.

So here are a couple of poems I wrote last year.

The first one is about my love of ham.

The second poem is about a broken heart. Nuff said.


--Ham--
I love ham
tasty
salty
good
it’s great
with a glaze
warm or cold
you
can’t
go
wrong
god dammit, i love ham


—Darmok—
I met you
and i thought you were cool
but then you changed your clothes
and turned into a different person
it’s not that i don’t think you’re cool
anymore
but
you’re just like that episode of
star trek: the next generation
where captain picard gets stranded
on a planet with a humonoid alien
and the thing is
the alien speaks english
only in metaphors
and picard speaks
like a human
so the whole episode
the alien guy tries hard
to get through to picard
to communicate with him
in his own language
and they have
great difficulty
and right at the end
they finally get it
so you’re picard
and i’m the alien
and i really want
to communucate with you
but i can’t
because you
won’t let me
and it frustrates me
but
the thing is
i
still
think
you’re
cool