P.S.

How many times is it now? Huh? It's gotta be at least a million, right? What's wrong with you? Why are you carrying all that for? Love? Tell me something friend, where has anyone got in life because of 'love'? Poets?! Ha! Nothing more than a bunch of madmen letting their minds drain onto paper. No one knew what they were talking about. The person they claimed to have 'loved' didn't exist. Illusions, all of them. Something they wanted to see but wasn't there. Feelings? Again, nothing more than chemicals running through the brain. Just a bunch of reactions that make you sick to your stomach, heart, mind and soul! It's POISON! You must understand! You're living a nightmare. There are no dreams here! Wake up! Wake up....and come back to us...

"They took away my baby..."

This night, I've felt some of the most damaging pain. Suffering down to the deepest parts of my soul. This night, I heard a mother cry for her baby boy who was taken away. Her baby boy, my friend. I could feel the wax on the street under my shoe. So many candles, people pouring out the excess wax. All of us, under that great, full moon. We laughed, we cried, we hugged. But those mother's words are forever burned into my conscience. "They killed my baby, they killed my baby!" That day, those cops took not only a friend away, but a son, a brother and a baby boy. My friend, Ralfy, your mother cries, "They took my baby away!" We all cry, "They took our friend, our brother away! God made a mistake! Bring him back!" My friend, my brother, Ralfy. These earthly days wither away...

Dear Scarecrow.

Many, many, MANY nights I've spent thinking about you. How you're so far away but you still give me the creeps. I know you can't hurt me because you're so far away. People think you're not real but I know the truth. We breath the same air, you and I. I can't get you out of my thoughts. I can burn down my own mind and you would still be standing over the ashes. Scarecrow, could you just go away and leave me alone? Forget about our past and find another field to torment? Maybe, just maybe, I might have to burn down this field.

The Nights of a Madman.

I soon realized that I spent a tremendous amount of time talking to myself. Many mornings, afternoons and nights, I would go about my activities conversing with myself. In these conversations with myself, I found out that I would gladly be able to remain without human contact of any kind. Years and years I've spent talking to myself. Many ideas and emotions I've uncovered. All from the ramblings of a man who has gone mad but believes he hasn't.