This is the end of everything My ever need Bury me A grave with nothing to say Say my name Devil inside me Destruction at every turn Living in a world that couldn’t sit still I’ll bring you everything you need Screaming in place
Can’t see the words through the blur
Hangman’s noose Judge, jury Hate myself more Than anyone ever could Punishment for sins unknown Woke up into a world of shit Born into this skin Wish I could escape somehow Every attempt leaves me feeling Wishing I was dead Screaming in my skull Dragging this body around
Spilling shit all over myself
In the shadows becoming something else The trick isn’t as exciting when You know the process Down right depressing If you only knew You’d ask me to stop, give up Save yourself you’d say Who would I be anyway Giving away everything Save you for myself
I need to stop listening to sad songs…. bringing out the best in me?… unlikely…
It happened again today. One of the patients tried to escape. “Couldn’t take the devil for one more day,” she screamed over and over as she tried to squeeze herself between the broken shards of glass and the bars of her window. The hospital board will want to know what I’d call it. A suicide attempt? A condition of her psychosis? What can we file this under? “How doctor do you explain what is going on?” I can hear them asking me. Even as the staff rush to help her with her many wounds. Even as she is bleeding out all over the floor. How do I explain this?
How does one explain to someone who is not here to witness this behavior day in and day out? How does one justify this as a normal everyday occurrence? One doesn’t. That one who is me must lie. Make an excuse to how such a patient ended up with gashes all over her body. Because the truth in this matter is irrelevant. A broken brain, the devil made me, and feelings of sadness are not answers to the questions they will ask. The bleeding slows and the staff lift her up onto the gurney. She will have to spend sometime in the medical warded. Heavily sedated of course. Which is the only reason I have to even bother with any of these incestuous questions. Money is all the board cares about. Had she hit her head? Well who would have noticed the difference? I know I wouldn’t have.
Why is it always the low risk patients that cause the most problems? More restraints maybe? I have my own questions that need to be answered. When she heals up I will have to find time to ask them. Until then it is on to the next one and the next one after that. I’m locked in here with them. I know it seems as if I can leave the confines of this place but illusions often seem real. Every day is a repeat, a trap in which I can not break free. Each case, each patient, each dark secret of the mind only makes the nightmare that much worse.
A man of science is no more trapped than a man of faith.One in the same forced to go on two separate paths that no matter which is taken come to the same conclusion, death. They don’t teach you that in school. No life teaches you that over time. Holds your head down under the water and demands answers to questions you could not possibly understand. I envy the others here. The staff and the patients as they do not seem to notice the path they have chosen, or perhaps they have without ever really knowing? Too many questions. The mind is a locked box in which I am expected to pry open, expected to break, fix, and replace. Maybe in the end all I have broken is myself?
Wish I could think of something else Nothing comes to mind so I dwell What could have been, what it is The past and the present don’t seem To match the future Stuck in time, stuck thinking about the times You meant something more Something to me that I can’t ignore The ignorance of our situation Do I love you or am I just waiting Wish I could think of something else Not the words spoken but the ones hidden Hurt too many times to make this work
A pile of papers with nothing to say…
Going to be one of those days Dragging myself through hell A smile and a thought Doing it to myself Not nearly as bad as I once thought Tearing through a lifetime Night after night A cold and apathetic thought What do you mean to me When you mean everything Killing all the parts of me that I thought mattered How wrong I ever was This is the only way to live a life With a broken dream With a big ass smile
“Are you going to act calm, cool, and collected or are you going to run around like someone shit in your mouth?”
An ends to a means A history rooted in treachery Knowing why never seemed important Until you asked Accepting everything at face value Crumbling with time The chains that bind Who you are and all the reasons why Who we can be and the reasons why Questioning everything inside
Was just thinking this picture is rather large… need a smaller version… but then you don’t get the full effect of the image… boring ass day today… but I had fun none the less… I like boring days… to be honest… I look forward to them… nothing going to shit… no one caring what I did or what I am doing… maybe it is a getting older thing?… maybe it is a flashback of my youth?…
Did three hours of yard work… nothing special… maintaining the space I guess… blasting metal at 9 a.m. and waving at the neighbors… they are pretty cool… we all keep to ourselves… I will always like that… I lived in a neighborhood once… where everyone had to be three feet up your ass… what are you doing?… how is the family?… what do you think of this traffic?… checking my mail… you saw them walk into the house so alive… and why the fuck are you hanging out in your front yard like a creep?… I like to keep to myself… haha…
Well I should probably go finish burying the rest of the bodies… got to put the work in if you want to succeed in life… Hope all is well…
need you go speak with Stephanie. She still hasn’t got out of bed. It has been
almost three days,” the nurse tells him. I don’t look up from my desk. My pen digs deeper into the chart I’m working
on. The nurse holds on to my office door to afraid to fully enter,
“Doctor, did you hear me?” Pushing the pen the tip deeper into the chart.
“Is there anything else?” I asks looking up to her with a fake smile.
“No, I guess not,” she answers before closing the door and
disappearing. The pen tip snaps spilling ink all over the chart, “What
could the little psychopath possibly be up to now?”
I enter Stephanie’s room and the first thing to hit me is
the smell. The smell of three day old shit and piss. Jesus Christ does no one
do their job around here? Doesn’t matter I think as I rub my forehead in
frustration. Lighting up a cigarette to try and mask the smell I fight the need
to vomit. “Stephanie may I have a moment of your time?” I ask in the fakest
version of myself I can. She only sits there on her bed with her knees to her
chest staring at me. “The silent treatment for me as well. That’s fine I suppose.
It won’t help you I’m afraid,” I take another step into the room. Her eyes burn
with a furry. All of their eyes have this look. A look none of my medical books
have ever been able to explain. The two orderlies I brought with me wait a few
steps behind me. I can hear them as they try not to breathe. Unfortunately that
isn’t much of an option at the moment.
“Heard it has been over three days since you’ve attempted to get up. Moving around is good for your mind you know? A little outdoor time. Maybe some sun would make you feel better?” Still nothing only her burning eyes. “I also heard you are refusing to eat for the nurses but I see you have some of the plates there in your bed. That is good. That is positive. What isn’t so positive and judging by the smell in this room I have to believe is true? Is that you have been pissing and defecating the bed again. We’ve talked about this Stephanie. We can’t have you doing this. It isn’t healthy or sanitary. To be quite frank it isn’t really fair to the staff. That is beyond the point though. Stephanie you need to get out of bed.” My anger begins to rise as I stomp out my cigarette and light another one. Her eyes burning. Their eyes so dark. Sometimes I just want to grab them by the throat and watch the flames slowly smolder out. No, push it down. You are here to help them.
“Stephanie you need to get out of bed now,” I inform her unsympathetically.
“Bring her back,” she screams at me. My ears ringing I fight the urge to scream
along with her, “She doesn’t exist. We have been over this.” The fire rages in
her eyes, “Bring her back.” Bits of dried shit fall off her arms as she
screams. “She doesn’t exist therefore we can’t bring her back. We have been
over this. You need to understand this Stephanie,” I shout threw her screams. “She
does exist and you took her away from me,” her whole body shakes with every
word. The orderlies rush to my side but I signal them to stay back. I can feel
my own frustration and my own anger fighting to release itself. “Enough of this
screaming Stephanie,” I say with a stern voice. “There is no reason to scream
at me. I promise you we never took her away because she is not real.” She
shakes her head no causing more dried shit to fall off her body. “You are a
liar. You took her just to make me unhappy. Just to make me suffer. You are
just like them. Just like everyone else,” she throws herself into her pillows.
I take a step closer, “Now why on earth would I do something like that? I’m here to help you get better. You are here to get better. So let me help you. Let us help you get there. Let’s get out of the bed and get you cleaned up.” Her face still buried in her shit covered pillow, “Not until you bring her back to me.” Standing just out of arms reach of her the smell is becoming too much to bare. “Stephanie this is no way to live. We need to get you out of this bed,” I say as calmly as one can in this situation. Staring at her I wonder where everything went wrong. How could such a beautiful girl turn into such a mess? If this were another life or if things had worked out differently I would have been staring at her up on a screen. Not in a room with her shit smeared on the walls. This world can be too much to take at times. Before I even have time to react. Stephanie springs from her bed and tackles me to the floor. With her hands around my throat she begins to scream, “Bring her back.”
Despite her small frame she has a strength I don’t understand. The two orderlies fight to get her off of me, but with every ounce of effort her hands grip tighter to my throat. Her screaming fills the tiny room with so much noise. My ears ring as I try to fight her. I try to find a place on her body that isn’t covered in shit as my hands slide off her skin. I just want to help them. I can’t understand what is happening. That’s all I ever wanted to do. But right now I just want to kill her. Gouge out her little eyes and watch her scream in pain. So disoriented as all my sense become over stimulated confusion sets in. A nurse runs into the room and injects her with a syringe of diazepam. She fights the effects as I fight for air. Fight the urge to not kill the life from her. I feel the strength leave her hands and her weight off my chest. Inhaling deeply the smell of the room takes over as I vomit on to the floor. Staring into my own pool of vomit. I am left wondering why is it that any of this needs to exist.
“I’m not feeling particularly violent today. I mean no one
was asking me to be. I just don’t feel it. Some days I can really feel it,” she
says with a smile. The smile washes away from her face, “But not today. No,
today I feel rather joyous and a bit vain. Callus is the word? No that is
something that happens to the skin. What is the word that I am trying to say?”
A silence fills the room as she stares at the wall. “Hey, do you want to know
something else about skin? Do you know what happens when direct heat is
applied? You know like fire.” Again she stares as she waits for an answer as
she waves butane torch in her hand wildly. “Stumped you huh? Well silly it
doesn’t just turn black. You know like with raw meat. No the skin bubbles
first. Bubbles and bubbles until the water trapped inside causes the epidermis
to explode.” She begins to laugh hysterically at the screams of her victim.
“Do you still think?” She screams into the victims face. “Do
you think?” She asked calmly as she grabs the victim’s hair. She takes the long
flowing hair and wraps it around her knuckles. She pulls the hair tight and
raises it above the girl’s head. “Do you think that the same thing will happen
with hair? Should we test my theory? Because I think. Well honestly I have no
idea what will happen. Do you?” She asks curiously. “Better yet,” she pulls the
handful of hair to the point of breaking, “Do you think that if I make you as
ugly as me. You’d want me then?” She presses her scared face into the other
girl’s face. Butane torch burning in the other hand. A look comes across her
face as she stares into the other girl’s eyes, “Yeah bitch I didn’t get these
scars sucking dick. I earned them. So let’s ask ourselves this simple question.
Do you think you could ever walk in my shoes for a day? One day. That’s all.”
She looks down at the victims shoes, “Because let’s face it those pumps look
amazing. What size are they anyway?”
She turns the fuel knob on the butane torch to off and
places it down on the carpeted floor. The girl only whimpers as tears flow down
her face. “Tell me are they Capezio? Is that still even a thing? Fashion really
isn’t my thing. I’m more or less into other things. Don’t get me wrong though.
I like to learn.” She walks over to the dresser and picks something up. Slowly
pacing back over to the girl holding something behind her back, “Do you mind if
I take a look at them? You know up close? I promise I won’t hurt them.” In one
rapid motion she lunges at the girl’s right foot with a hatchet in hand.
Swinging the hatchet at the girls shin. Slightly above the ankle. Over and over
again with everything she has the hatchet connects to flesh and bone. The room
fills with the sound of screaming, laughter, and hacked away flesh. Her face
sprayed with blood at every hack. Wave after wave of blood. The victim flails
her leg in pain the best she can against the restraints. The victim’s whole
body begins to convulse until it doesn’t.
She sits crossed legged on the floor staring at what is left of the girl’s foot. “Really don’t think these are so great after all. You know with all the blood on them and everything. Hey, are you still with me princess?” She asks her. She taps the girls left leg with the side of the hatchet. “I’m talking to you.” She slams the hatchet blade side down into the victim’s right thigh. The hatchet stands in place as she slaps the girl over and over, ‘I said that I’m talking to you.” She screams words of nothing with everything she has into the girl’s face. “That bitch is dead.” Sad she tosses the hacked off foot behind her. It lands on the bed with a soft thud as it bounces into the pillows. “We were just starting to have fun.” She says with a pouted face. “I knew I shouldn’t have done that. Stupid, stupid,” she hits herself on the side of the head over and over. Rubbing her knuckles against the scars. The smell of smoke slowly fills the room. She looks around confused until she sees the knocked over torch. Watching the trail of fire as it spreads to the bed. “Well fuck, Father isn’t going to like this.” Random limbs hang from the ceiling as the fire takes everything.
The halls are filling with patients I can hear their feet
stomping. One by one they shuffle their way down the halls. The ones that can
that is. None of them mine of course. No of course not they belong to my subordinates.
All those long nights. All the studying. All the work to be at the top of my
class. What a waste of time. No, I get the special ones. The ones chained down,
the ones that most of us can only see through glass and steel. But why am I
telling you this? Talking to myself. I might as well be locked away with them.
I need. I need to get this all out. Before I end up on the other side of the
glass. We all have our reasons for being here. Locked in this place.
I am here to make sure they get “better.” Help them, cure
them, but there is no cure for crazy or deranged or homicidal. So all of my education, all of my time is
nothing but a waste. I get to pretend to be the very thing I call myself. The
title I have earned, Doctor. Head Doctor of Psychiatry at a state run asylum to
be exact. I get to pretend that I can make them all better. Trapped in
purgatory with the monster who will never see the light of day again. God damn it.
I just want to leave this place. Trapped in my head. Trapped in place. Day in
and day out. When I close my eyes. All I see are their faces smiling back at
me. They should be put down. Put down like the animals that they are. One way
trip to the pits of hell. But that’s not humane is it? That’s not right. Not in
this day and age of medicine. We can help them.
What a joke. A broken idea stabbed into our brains. Not all
of us were born equal. Not all of us deserve to live. All those long hours, all
these long days, this endless life time, and that is all that I can come up
with. Kill them all. Let the devil have his play things back. Not good enough.
Not the solution we are looking for. “Do we need to replace you with someone
better?” Better than me? Someone better than me can administer the same test
with the same results. Would it make the difference to help these monsters? Question
my very existence in this world. Driven crazy by the very people who I have entrusted
me to heal. Nothing. Surrounded by the madness and the endless cycle of
nothing. The nothing is pointless and unavoidable. The fact that nothing I will
ever do will mean anything. That’s the part I can no longer take. Life here is
an unknown mystery with the same outcome.
Welcome to the Alabaster Behavioral Asylum for the Criminally Insane. Yes, when there is no more room. Welcome to hell.
So this was that project I was talking about… either last week or the week before… I don’t know… the days bled together after awhile… Hopefully I can keep up with it… this week I will be posting three parts to it… after that I will be posting a new part every Wednesday… and filling in the days with Broken Thoughts… poems… the usual stuff… trying to change things up… taking a chance on this story… maybe I will talk about it more later… okay I will be talking about it more later…
In the darkness I hide Waiting for you to free me Hidden deep within I’ve always been me The surface a mask An asshole within Tearing apart every part That makes me, me Strangling the only thing That is good in me Watching the world burn Is all I ever wanted Greatest fear strangling me Lost in my own worlds Confusion sets in Dragging my scythe Through the darkness that is my mind I have always wondered But I knew all along I am death and this is what I deserve A secret held deep within Passion to see the other side Purity that will never make sense Dragging myself through this life Lost my fucking mind At this point can’t tell the difference Stream of fucking consciences What is real when all is a lie Chew the fucking glass That we were all meant to digest
Never Enough I Need More
This isn’t my first Won’t be the last Welcoming death as it comes Welcoming everything This isn’t What I set out to be A place I was pushed to Time has a way of taking everything Dying each day Pushing to make it something else A disease buried deep within The alcohol brings out the best in me I’m not a hero, a saint A fucking leach Suck you dry Take everything I need Lie to myself To make everything you’ve done Make sense That’s the part I hide A victim to my own pain Killing myself was never the plan All I have left How could I be so weak How could I accept such abuse The worlds a lie When all I ever believed Lied to me Living on borrowed time I don’t know where to go from here When everything I believed is a lie Sitting in my own shit I wish I was dead Too strong to do it Too weak to see any other excuse Suffering as each day comes A secret buried in my skin Can you see when I lie On the surface all along Tell me what to do Because I don’t know what to do anymore
Slipping into a darkness I don’t understand… where does this world go… when it was never meant to be?… where does any of this end when it keeps on going?… debt… love… life… it all keeps going… the truth unknown to anyone… all answers a lie… choking… open my eyes… your hands around my neck… this is all for nothing… this life doesn’t mean anything… and yet… I crave… I want to go on living this dream… that is all it is a dream… in a awakened mind… none of it matters… but all of it seems too…
It all seems to matter in the scheme of all things… I think of space and it’s endlessness… I think of all of the people who have abandoned me… I think of so many things… and here I stand… what the fuck does any of this mean?… what is a world full of darkness?… but endless… tortured and I am the master of all things… what the fuck is wrong with me?… fucking human is all I will ever be… raising a glass to the nothing at all…