(no subject)
Tonight, is everything really as bad as it seems
or is it just that
you're a bit more worried than you really need to be?
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I don't think I have ever been this high before. Maybe. Maybe back when I was Institutionalized. Maybe then when they slipped anti-psychotics into my food to get me to settle down. To get me to stop thinking and trying to escape. They thought they were soo clever by putting it in my food, crushing up those little pills of theirs so I would take them without thinking. So fucking clever. I just started throwing up everything I ate. Fuck them. Fuck them. Fuckers.
I have a hole in my head, my shoulder, my hip. The doctor says I may walk with a limp if it doesn't heal correctly. Doctors, they don't know anything. Fuck them. One shuffles into the room and smiles in that way they have and looks at a chart, makes a few notes and then asks question. Fuck them. If I could move my mouth I wouldn't even spit on them.
The bastard is still alive. Down the hall, just a few doors down the nurse tells me with a smile, fluffing my pillows. I want to ask her if she knows I put an axe in his head she must, she knows he's down the hall and is in bad shape. He is not a man worth a smile. It's alright, who, cares?
I can sink into my pillow, into the firm of the hospital bed. The murder charges are still pending, three of them. Who cares? Ronald did those murders, Dag, Mia, Bjurman. They are leveling attempted murder charges at me for Zala.
If I could feel my face I'd smile. It's all just so fucking funny.