The deep-lines are contusions that never heal. Deeper and Deeper the lines expand…vast, splattered with splinters of gray. Feeling like bruised ribs…pain with every breath, keeps me alive, the pain does! The sharp, twisting hopelessness is…
I store the happy memories in the fine, delicate lines, the lines most vain and visible, still somewhat… youthful… I store memories of human empathy, I once had…superficial lines to hide the real…
The deep lines cause a divine, unique agony, drilling into my optic nerves, bilaterally, angiogenesis grows arteries, which, feed the malevolent tumors that are germinating in my frontal lobes…The grotesque growths are always famished…always need more, of…
Pain, reminds me I live… reminds me I have a cancer deep within…Lines grow deeper…I can’t hide myself much longer. Fear fills in the spaces, left empty by the ravenous parasites, feasting on my life support system…feasting on my CPU! The exquisite ache, once agony, is now welcomed. The twitching, exposed muscle causes neurons to fire…shooting neurotransmitters relay distress, to my organic microprocessor. The human instinct to live will always trump….
My exterior has weathered a long journey.
A journey full of unexpected pleasure and pain.
Yet! My gears still turn inside… just fine.
For Sale…Nuclear-powered, hand-held wind illuminator…
…Used during the apocalypse only… will take…
best offer… universal credits as payment… only…
The city has a pulse. A heart beats within.
Bump…bum-bum…Bump…Bump…B…B….Bum…. The city’s Cardiac Center, is in a dangerous rhythm. Political greed, coupled with organized crime, thicken the heart’s walls…arteries become clogged with pharmaceutical waste and fast food fodder.
Meet Gotham’s newest, unlicensed Heart Surgeon: “I came to Gotham, searching for darkness.” “I found it.”
“All along, the darkness was always there, feeding my thought process, triggering the violence…Freeing Bane!”
I have accepted my fate…my mission. I am Destined…to… Destroy Hope!
Startled, screaming was my first response. I screamed as if I were being attacked by a psychotic stranger! My ears ring from the damage…tinnitus is what the doctor said… I am insane now. Am I insane if I know I am insane? Maybe I am just dreaming? That’s it…this must be a dream.
Dreaming…BUT…The voice was back…whispering “do it”, “do it”, “you are Jesus and I am God!” the voice kept repeating…echoing…in my bony cranium…FOREVER! Was it the holy spirit?
I’ve gotta go…the cameras are recording us! Shhhhh.
Skin Baby sleeps with one eye open, all the time.
Skin Baby is my inner child. Planes of existence… where, do I reside? I can’t remember, where my HOME is. Neither here nor there, in between… Purgatory? Suspended animation?
Reality? Wherever I reside, I am protected from him…but I can’t stop sleeping…with one eye wide shut and, one eye closed but open, to a world of corruption and…The Evil… That MEN do!
The Real England is a concise, direct, and not-so-gentle window into the depths of the leftovers of the world’s once greatest empire. It is told from the perspective of one lone (or not so lone) long term visitor. It informs one of the dregs of the country and helps to explain quaint British oddities such as the crack addicted chav.