ONE OF ThE THiRTEEN
I wish I could forget everything. I wish every time something happened it would be swallowed up in the void of my short-term memory. I wish I couldn’t think. I wish I knew what I was doing. I wish for an excuse. I wish I were a serial killer. I would still be killing and bathing in the blood. I want to shed my ageing skin and become new flesh, become another Joshua Kane. I am one of the thirteen and I have no past, and I have no future. My mind's abyss is filled with memories, memories that are not mine. They are of the thirteen and I have forgotten which one I am. Sometimes I think I see the faceless one’s, but it is unfamiliar, and it seems to stare at me as if I am nothing. I am nothing. In the void of normality, I knew I wasn’t one of the THEY. I am the bad man, I am a good man, and I am one of the thirteen. But I am not part of the OTHERS, those that drift around on this world, pretending that they exist for a reason. I drag hard on my cigarette, I want blissful ignorance again. I am a man of code and I live in a murkyworld that no one understands, except FOR mister Zero. I stare out of the window and I wonder if I should escape from this web and become a creative person once again.Lost, like a forgotten homeless person, I don’t know where I’m going. Blind, I stumble around the gloomy streets, trying to avoid my anger and rage, but end up hugging it as I feed my urges. I want to release my hatred and my vile bile upon the flesh of young teenage girls and middle aged housewives, stuff their knickers into their dirty slut mouths and abuse their dry cunts and assholes with my cock and kitchen utensils, tie them up in barbed wire and cut bits of their skin off and feed the flesh to the dogs. I want to slit the throats of middle aged suited men, who strut around ‘doing business’, I want to watch them slowly bleed and force the teenage male scum to drink the blood then film them as they are gang raped by perverts and wooden sticks. I want that awful SCUM to suffer endless pain and an eternity of torture. But I am still not brave enough to release myself from the boundaries of the human.
As my tutor, my mentor of the streets, TronMan, hides in the shadows, watching, waiting and sharpening his big blade of Tron, to cut into the children as they are whooping and giggling, I smile because I know they have no future, they are just future SCUM and they will fucking die! I witness untold and exciting horrors that I could ever see. TronMan hands me the blade
“You are immortal, mister Kane. Just let go. They are only human.”
Only human. I live by those two words, and I shall learn how to make a human bleed and feel fear, I shall become the thing that makes me scream in my dreams. Then I am awake; I am beside half-naked girls and dead bodies. Sometimes I find that I am not truly awake, but I inhale the stink flesh aroma of anal sex, cunt juices, and lacy church dresses, sickeningly pastel. I remember giggling helplessly over nothing, and wearing mother’s high heels, tripping continuously, but always getting back up to try again. Lacy pink heart Valentines, and rainbows drawn in marker, goodnight kisses, sleepovers, and anorexic Barbie dolls who were always willing to suck cock and finger fuck their asshole for a line of cocaine and some wine. On the darker days. I would Embrace the stereotypes, putting everyone in a category, everyone in a clique, as I tried to fit into the exact proportions of the female that wanted to have a serious relationship with me, like a bad soap opera actor, I would tell them what they wanted to hear and think something else in my twisted mind. I am Joshua Kane, I am one of the thirteen, and I have forgotten which one I am. I am asleep, I am awake. I am not really sure.
Unattainable fantasies of death, murder and dark violent sex acts with willing slut whores, who are dirty talking and fuck nasty, I am truly awake now and realise that everything I think, everything I believe, everything I see, everything I touch and everyone I hurt is all a dream! I once again roam the seedy streets and Peek into tattoo parlours and plan the thousands of ink drawings that will cover their bodies, as soon as I find the perfect girl.
And I immerse myself in the musky scent of blood and unwashed people. My cock is erect and I ache to masturbate and cum all over the face of Alice White.I have had women hand me their hearts on a string, literally, before falling down onto the plastic sheets, stumbling, and begging whispers for mercy and release. I stare at the still bleeding cuts, where broken ribs jut out at grotesque angles. In a rush of adrenaline I cut into their begging bodies, leaving them choking on their own blood, as I sprint away and huddle in lonely corners. My mind, though eaten by darkness, is disturbed. I want to kill again. To drown the noises in my head with the screams and suffering of the Others! Goodbye, I whisper to my sorrows, and they would float away on the wind, black butterflies, and their wings glinting like Venetian glass in the twilight. I am Joshua Kane and I am one of the thirteen, but I have forgotten which one I am. I awake once more; I am in a cobbled alleyway lying in a pool of piss and puke. I am dirty and soiled, I have had another dream, another nightmare, what is real? What is fantasy? I no longer am able to tell the difference. I just know that I must get home and clean the stink of me. It is surprising how quickly I am able to revive myself. I have masturbated in a graveyard; I have ass fucked 18-year-old virgin girls, who then beg for it to be done to them again and again. I could be a serial killer if I wanted, I’ve used the blood of animals on my art canvases and I have bitten into the flesh of a stranger. I have even stalked a woman and stolen her soiled underwear. Her panties smell divine and I carry them everywhere I go. A time will come when I shall be the voice of the fire, I shall be everyone and I shall be everywhere, for I am one of the thirteen. On a whim I tell TronMan that I’m going to commit suicide. Chuckling, he reminds me that I can’t die because I do not really exist, and frustrated I tell him that I know that. But I might as well try. I stab myself in the heart, the blade glinting at me, winking, as it passes through my body, and blood fills my mouth, the sharp tang of new pennies, yet I do not die, I am disappointed. I hurl my fists onto the concrete, Falling, to the ground screaming and miserable, I am no-one, and I remember that nothing is new, nothing is real and I am not real. Neon purple lights light up above me, the doorway to hell is opening, and I swerve down the streets like a drunk, losing my equilibrium and my mind and I crash onto cement in a fit of giggles. I erase at all my unwanted memories, but they are tricks, persistently flickering back on. The knife still juts out of my chest, an unfulfilled promise. I leave it there. I walk the streets with the blade still staining my breast, but no one notices, because they cannot see me because I am in the dream world.
Soon I shall awake again into the murkyworld of Joshua Kane. I am one of the thirteen and when I awake, my existence will start all over again. For I am number six.
Be seeing you.
ThE ENd.
I wish I could forget everything. I wish every time something happened it would be swallowed up in the void of my short-term memory. I wish I couldn’t think. I wish I knew what I was doing. I wish for an excuse. I wish I were a serial killer. I would still be killing and bathing in the blood. I want to shed my ageing skin and become new flesh, become another Joshua Kane. I am one of the thirteen and I have no past, and I have no future. My mind's abyss is filled with memories, memories that are not mine. They are of the thirteen and I have forgotten which one I am. Sometimes I think I see the faceless one’s, but it is unfamiliar, and it seems to stare at me as if I am nothing. I am nothing. In the void of normality, I knew I wasn’t one of the THEY. I am the bad man, I am a good man, and I am one of the thirteen. But I am not part of the OTHERS, those that drift around on this world, pretending that they exist for a reason. I drag hard on my cigarette, I want blissful ignorance again. I am a man of code and I live in a murkyworld that no one understands, except FOR mister Zero. I stare out of the window and I wonder if I should escape from this web and become a creative person once again.Lost, like a forgotten homeless person, I don’t know where I’m going. Blind, I stumble around the gloomy streets, trying to avoid my anger and rage, but end up hugging it as I feed my urges. I want to release my hatred and my vile bile upon the flesh of young teenage girls and middle aged housewives, stuff their knickers into their dirty slut mouths and abuse their dry cunts and assholes with my cock and kitchen utensils, tie them up in barbed wire and cut bits of their skin off and feed the flesh to the dogs. I want to slit the throats of middle aged suited men, who strut around ‘doing business’, I want to watch them slowly bleed and force the teenage male scum to drink the blood then film them as they are gang raped by perverts and wooden sticks. I want that awful SCUM to suffer endless pain and an eternity of torture. But I am still not brave enough to release myself from the boundaries of the human.
As my tutor, my mentor of the streets, TronMan, hides in the shadows, watching, waiting and sharpening his big blade of Tron, to cut into the children as they are whooping and giggling, I smile because I know they have no future, they are just future SCUM and they will fucking die! I witness untold and exciting horrors that I could ever see. TronMan hands me the blade
“You are immortal, mister Kane. Just let go. They are only human.”
Only human. I live by those two words, and I shall learn how to make a human bleed and feel fear, I shall become the thing that makes me scream in my dreams. Then I am awake; I am beside half-naked girls and dead bodies. Sometimes I find that I am not truly awake, but I inhale the stink flesh aroma of anal sex, cunt juices, and lacy church dresses, sickeningly pastel. I remember giggling helplessly over nothing, and wearing mother’s high heels, tripping continuously, but always getting back up to try again. Lacy pink heart Valentines, and rainbows drawn in marker, goodnight kisses, sleepovers, and anorexic Barbie dolls who were always willing to suck cock and finger fuck their asshole for a line of cocaine and some wine. On the darker days. I would Embrace the stereotypes, putting everyone in a category, everyone in a clique, as I tried to fit into the exact proportions of the female that wanted to have a serious relationship with me, like a bad soap opera actor, I would tell them what they wanted to hear and think something else in my twisted mind. I am Joshua Kane, I am one of the thirteen, and I have forgotten which one I am. I am asleep, I am awake. I am not really sure.
Unattainable fantasies of death, murder and dark violent sex acts with willing slut whores, who are dirty talking and fuck nasty, I am truly awake now and realise that everything I think, everything I believe, everything I see, everything I touch and everyone I hurt is all a dream! I once again roam the seedy streets and Peek into tattoo parlours and plan the thousands of ink drawings that will cover their bodies, as soon as I find the perfect girl.
And I immerse myself in the musky scent of blood and unwashed people. My cock is erect and I ache to masturbate and cum all over the face of Alice White.I have had women hand me their hearts on a string, literally, before falling down onto the plastic sheets, stumbling, and begging whispers for mercy and release. I stare at the still bleeding cuts, where broken ribs jut out at grotesque angles. In a rush of adrenaline I cut into their begging bodies, leaving them choking on their own blood, as I sprint away and huddle in lonely corners. My mind, though eaten by darkness, is disturbed. I want to kill again. To drown the noises in my head with the screams and suffering of the Others! Goodbye, I whisper to my sorrows, and they would float away on the wind, black butterflies, and their wings glinting like Venetian glass in the twilight. I am Joshua Kane and I am one of the thirteen, but I have forgotten which one I am. I awake once more; I am in a cobbled alleyway lying in a pool of piss and puke. I am dirty and soiled, I have had another dream, another nightmare, what is real? What is fantasy? I no longer am able to tell the difference. I just know that I must get home and clean the stink of me. It is surprising how quickly I am able to revive myself. I have masturbated in a graveyard; I have ass fucked 18-year-old virgin girls, who then beg for it to be done to them again and again. I could be a serial killer if I wanted, I’ve used the blood of animals on my art canvases and I have bitten into the flesh of a stranger. I have even stalked a woman and stolen her soiled underwear. Her panties smell divine and I carry them everywhere I go. A time will come when I shall be the voice of the fire, I shall be everyone and I shall be everywhere, for I am one of the thirteen. On a whim I tell TronMan that I’m going to commit suicide. Chuckling, he reminds me that I can’t die because I do not really exist, and frustrated I tell him that I know that. But I might as well try. I stab myself in the heart, the blade glinting at me, winking, as it passes through my body, and blood fills my mouth, the sharp tang of new pennies, yet I do not die, I am disappointed. I hurl my fists onto the concrete, Falling, to the ground screaming and miserable, I am no-one, and I remember that nothing is new, nothing is real and I am not real. Neon purple lights light up above me, the doorway to hell is opening, and I swerve down the streets like a drunk, losing my equilibrium and my mind and I crash onto cement in a fit of giggles. I erase at all my unwanted memories, but they are tricks, persistently flickering back on. The knife still juts out of my chest, an unfulfilled promise. I leave it there. I walk the streets with the blade still staining my breast, but no one notices, because they cannot see me because I am in the dream world.
Soon I shall awake again into the murkyworld of Joshua Kane. I am one of the thirteen and when I awake, my existence will start all over again. For I am number six.
Be seeing you.
ThE ENd.
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