Yesterday I saw four men dead with one had his head detached in a bloody gory accident. Involving a car, and the road tar. Four young men, charred with their own blood, scarred all the others' minds, including mine. And today, I killed five people. I sawed off their heads, their blood vessels connecting to their hearts, as slowly as I could be. Because I was scared - for I am not guilty. I had no choice but to kill. I had no other choice but to obey. I felt like a wrapped up fool in toilet paper. I killed and piled them up on my grandma's sofa and feeling extremely lost.
You know that feeling of lost? That feeling that even being at outer space is even far more comforting than being there, on my beloved grandma's sofa. The feeling of lost is like a snakebite, inseparable from our delicate skin of blindness and stupidity. Why the fuck did I do that? Why was I so damn fucking scared? Of who? Of what? Who was that man? He's not a prophet. He's not GOD.
I killed innocent people. I didnt do it. But I just did. Five innocent people, old and young, together headless, glorified with their mix of blood, on top of each other. Aku tak bersalah, but the chainsaw was vibrating in my grip of anxiety.
You know what I feel like doing? I feel like running up to that man and disarm him myself. Though I couldn't see him, though I couldn't reach him. Though I couldn't feel him. I turned everywhere, and he was not there. He was The Devil. I would just wish I could tear off his lips and let the blade of the furious chainsaw ram through his black flesh and into his beady red eyes. Let me take over control. Let me kill him myself. Let me tear away flesh as slowly as I can be.
I would then get the saw to be dripping blood on the marble floor. I would want to drape myself with his own distasteful blood, let it trail wherever I go, in circles. I would then draw a round red circle with his blood around me - on the floor - to keep me sound. To keep me alive. Nobody is allowed in. Blood's over the place. I draw my own safety net. I draw my own heaven. I draw my own asylum. The whole floor will be colourful. It will be pretty. The five corpses will stay around me, and decay as slowly as they can be. I put them on my left, on my right, at the top and at the bottom. I wish they could converse with me, but they can't. They are decapitated by me. Okay, I shall place all their heads in my circle. In my comfort zone, I feel safe with them.
Talk to me, dollheads. Why the empty stares? It's okay, I will keep you safe and sound. You dont have to stare at me, you just have to talk to me. Can you talk to me? Look, I'm sorry for what I've done okay? I didn't mean to chop off your heads. I don't even know you! Wait, if I rip off your necks, does that mean that your tongues slip out from your mouths and drop on the floor? Or do they dangle with the rest of the lumps of neck flesh?
Do you cry? Do you have everlasting frowns that you've been killed purposeless by me, whom you have not heard or seen before? I am sorry okay! I didn't mean to kill all of you! Look little girl, you're safe now. You're in heaven. There's nothing to worry or to ponder about. You are just decapitated - neatly. It's not that I tore your eyes out and crush your hipbones with a sledgehammer. You are fine, so can you just like - say something?
Slowly their lips twitched and turned. They are beginning to speak! They are listening to me! Their intact ears are not moving, but they are expanding. Their lips twitched slightly, and then streams of blood started to drip from their corners of their lips. As slowly as they can be. Black blood started to contain around their chin areas and they begin to clot. Just there - and then.
Wait, are they mocking at me? Are they sniggering? These five heads are actually laughing at me? They tried to contain their laughter, but it seems that it's not proven effective. Because blood keeps dripping down, more. And eventually drops of blood start to decorate within my circle. They couldn't contain their laughter. They started laughing. Harder.
What's so funny? What's wrong? Is my circle a juicy doughnut, or simply an oval? Are you laughing at my tears? Tears of anxiety and paranoia? Or the fact that I - their killer- is trying to converse with them? They should be appreciative that I still keep their heads safe from The Devil. Their minds are at ease, aren't they? I am protecting them, I am caring for them, am I not?
Tell me now, what's so damn funny?
You know that feeling of lost? That feeling that even being at outer space is even far more comforting than being there, on my beloved grandma's sofa. The feeling of lost is like a snakebite, inseparable from our delicate skin of blindness and stupidity. Why the fuck did I do that? Why was I so damn fucking scared? Of who? Of what? Who was that man? He's not a prophet. He's not GOD.
I killed innocent people. I didnt do it. But I just did. Five innocent people, old and young, together headless, glorified with their mix of blood, on top of each other. Aku tak bersalah, but the chainsaw was vibrating in my grip of anxiety.
You know what I feel like doing? I feel like running up to that man and disarm him myself. Though I couldn't see him, though I couldn't reach him. Though I couldn't feel him. I turned everywhere, and he was not there. He was The Devil. I would just wish I could tear off his lips and let the blade of the furious chainsaw ram through his black flesh and into his beady red eyes. Let me take over control. Let me kill him myself. Let me tear away flesh as slowly as I can be.
I would then get the saw to be dripping blood on the marble floor. I would want to drape myself with his own distasteful blood, let it trail wherever I go, in circles. I would then draw a round red circle with his blood around me - on the floor - to keep me sound. To keep me alive. Nobody is allowed in. Blood's over the place. I draw my own safety net. I draw my own heaven. I draw my own asylum. The whole floor will be colourful. It will be pretty. The five corpses will stay around me, and decay as slowly as they can be. I put them on my left, on my right, at the top and at the bottom. I wish they could converse with me, but they can't. They are decapitated by me. Okay, I shall place all their heads in my circle. In my comfort zone, I feel safe with them.
Talk to me, dollheads. Why the empty stares? It's okay, I will keep you safe and sound. You dont have to stare at me, you just have to talk to me. Can you talk to me? Look, I'm sorry for what I've done okay? I didn't mean to chop off your heads. I don't even know you! Wait, if I rip off your necks, does that mean that your tongues slip out from your mouths and drop on the floor? Or do they dangle with the rest of the lumps of neck flesh?
Do you cry? Do you have everlasting frowns that you've been killed purposeless by me, whom you have not heard or seen before? I am sorry okay! I didn't mean to kill all of you! Look little girl, you're safe now. You're in heaven. There's nothing to worry or to ponder about. You are just decapitated - neatly. It's not that I tore your eyes out and crush your hipbones with a sledgehammer. You are fine, so can you just like - say something?
Slowly their lips twitched and turned. They are beginning to speak! They are listening to me! Their intact ears are not moving, but they are expanding. Their lips twitched slightly, and then streams of blood started to drip from their corners of their lips. As slowly as they can be. Black blood started to contain around their chin areas and they begin to clot. Just there - and then.
Wait, are they mocking at me? Are they sniggering? These five heads are actually laughing at me? They tried to contain their laughter, but it seems that it's not proven effective. Because blood keeps dripping down, more. And eventually drops of blood start to decorate within my circle. They couldn't contain their laughter. They started laughing. Harder.
What's so funny? What's wrong? Is my circle a juicy doughnut, or simply an oval? Are you laughing at my tears? Tears of anxiety and paranoia? Or the fact that I - their killer- is trying to converse with them? They should be appreciative that I still keep their heads safe from The Devil. Their minds are at ease, aren't they? I am protecting them, I am caring for them, am I not?
Tell me now, what's so damn funny?
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amused