blood makes me think of rainbows I can see the terror in your eyes. I can see your soul dying, falling apart. I watch your soul escape you, your body grasping at it, trying to hold it in and failing. I see you die before you feel it... And it makes me smile... And for the first time in months... I sleep. They say murderers can't sleep at night, and it's all a lie. I can't sleep until I smell blood. Ripe, rotting, reeling in the darkness as I wander down the street leaving a trail of death and sadness behind me. I can't sleep until I feel in control of something. And since I can't control my life, I play along with death. I ride along his coattails, dragging the floor in his wake. Sometimes I like to pretend that he's there, that he's watching me. I can see him nod his head in approval. His little almost-smile behind his hood, where his jawbones flex. And if skin were there he'd be smirking at me. To me, he's almost fatherly. (((Our fathers were our models for god))) I can imagine myself following in his footsteps, him patting me on the head like a particularly obedient child as I smile up at him, child-like. At times I lay in bed and wonder how on earth I can kill others and yet spend half my life in woe, trying to figure out how to end mine... Then I realize... Everything in life is nonsense. Which is why laws are particularly silly, you can't control everything and everyone. And you can't chuck all the crazies away to die in a hole. Total control is a lie. And every breathe I take does nothing but prove this point further.