Litkicks Message Board Archive

Spontaneous schizophrenic

Posted to Stories




I slide into the unknown
Almost suddenly i am confronted by the enemy
but i know he is there
and what he wants
it is not what i want
i want for him what he wants for me

there are doors many doors
i open one and there he is
i open another there he is
i open all the doors simultaneously
and he is there, faceless
but he can see and hear and feel me
and hate me
oh how he hates me
i can feel his red hot hate pulsating
through his veins,radiating through the air
to a radius of infinity
it makes me sick.

he is everywhere and then he is one
he is in front of me
he slowly pulls his sword from its sheath
not a fairytale
a twisted faceless smile creeping to his faceless face
he is evil
my manifestation of evil
he is the destruction of the ten commandments
the rival of God and me
our enemy.

if i am where i am this guy's an idiot
a sword
hah,
give me a gun, the biggest baddest gun of destruction
and i will kill him

i sense his hate once more
he moves
again, it is mad
where's my gun
i want my fuckin gun
and in my hand is a sheath
similar to his but opposite
good and evil
light and darkness

he is moving like a butterfly infront of a screen
his movements mistical
why did he have to be so damn good with his sword
i must fight him
i must defeat,survive,kill,blood,panic,hate,suffering
sssshling my sword rises above me
and it hurts like evil and hell
it's him he’s doing this
it's burning and crushing my broken fingers
sword falls and shatters in the darkness
broken to a billion trillion peices unrecoverable
he is everywhere again, swooshing his sword
i am unarmed
the enevitability killing me
finally he ends my suffering
i turn and churn with bloody hands
blood running wrongingly
iiii spit and vomit blood like old faithful of Yellowstone
I feel no pain,I feel nothing
An abiss, the anticlimax of all the overfeelings felt before
But I am not afraid, I am flying
I am in control of him
His sword retreats from my belly
The wound stitching itself
Sealing and waxing over-perfect, good as new
And then he sees me
with fear printed on his faceless face
and I flex the muscles of my mind
and he is consumed by the terrific flames from which he was born
he screams from his face, from nothing, classical organ music for my ears.
Now he is nothing, he is no more
I am in control now