Some men are fatally flawed. I am one of them... I'm not an apologist for our breed. I wouldn't seek to defend them in any capacity... This is a short tale from our story.
If you saw me in the streets, you'd think I'm a composed being. You may even think I'm average. I dress average. More often than not, I dress worse than average, I look average, have average height and my voice is average. Nothing about me stands out. I'm not the fittest of men, I'm not the healthiest.
I smoke socially and when I'm stressed I smoke more frequently. I have an average build. You see me and you never remember me... Like the smoke from my lungs, I appear briefly and then I'm gone.
We never let anybody close to us. We can't. We know who we are and the facade of the average ensures we don't attract undue attention. We have some gifts. Some of us are artists, some are writers, others are businessmen. I, on the other hand, have just one gift: I can seem like I have a gift. I can appear to be an ideal man. It's a gift that gets me where I need to go. But the gift is a curse and it's fatally transparent. When I make the mistake of letting you close, you quickly see the truth.
We spend our lives as introverts. We have to. You may think we're social extroverts by our brash tone, our arrogance and our confident demeanor. But when the dust settles, you see the truth. We prefer the darkness of our lair, the solitude of our somnambulism.
Few of us have average jobs. Most of us have amazing jobs. The majority however, are men who do their own thing. We do our own thing: freelance or personal business, because we prefer to detach ourselves from you. Working together with for you for 5 years means you'll get close. That could be fatal.
I have demons within me. Demons unlike anything Jesus himself could ever imagine or even banish.. The devil and I are friends but not the way you think. He owns me. I'm his minion and his slave. I was born this way. I was born the devil's spawn.
I have hurt endless people. Most times I do it perniciously. I let my knives slip slowly into your flesh... I watch you squirm but I take my time... I slowly slit tendons, I slowly cut veins, I slowly rip each and every portion of your being apart.... You don't even know it till it's too late. It may take me months, maybe years. I don't like what I do... I don't want to do it.. But when I let you bleed, it's the devil who controls my arms... I'm his automaton....
I beg for death.... I'd rather that. Contrary to popular opinion, a fatally flawed man like me feels deeper than most feel. I love deeper than most love and I hurt deeper than most hurt. We are cursed with a black heart that hides a well of pain that goes back all the thousand odd years each of us lives... I beg for death... I'd rather have that than this role.. This life...This death.
I have a gift... That gift is to make you believe I'm the man I always wished I could be.... But if you get close there's nothing but pain that awaits you.... It's not my wish to hurt you, but it's my role... I was born this way, I was born fatally flawed. I was born the devil's spawn.
I'm an automaton... At night, the pain I've meted on those I love haunts me... I hear their gut renching screams... I see their heart rending grimaces.... Their ghosts follow me around and torment me daily...
....Just yesterday night.... Standing atop a balcony, I leaned over the edge and contemplated jumping and falling to my death. Perhaps I could save the world what is to come.... Perhaps I could save my loved ones from the fate they know not. I sometimes feel that I can do good for the world. It's a fallacy. Even when I do good, I do evil...
Stay away... The Devil's Spawn Lives Here... And every day, I beg for death... If you look close, you'll see the devil in my eyes....
If you saw me in the streets, you'd think I'm a composed being. You may even think I'm average. I dress average. More often than not, I dress worse than average, I look average, have average height and my voice is average. Nothing about me stands out. I'm not the fittest of men, I'm not the healthiest.
I smoke socially and when I'm stressed I smoke more frequently. I have an average build. You see me and you never remember me... Like the smoke from my lungs, I appear briefly and then I'm gone.
We never let anybody close to us. We can't. We know who we are and the facade of the average ensures we don't attract undue attention. We have some gifts. Some of us are artists, some are writers, others are businessmen. I, on the other hand, have just one gift: I can seem like I have a gift. I can appear to be an ideal man. It's a gift that gets me where I need to go. But the gift is a curse and it's fatally transparent. When I make the mistake of letting you close, you quickly see the truth.
We spend our lives as introverts. We have to. You may think we're social extroverts by our brash tone, our arrogance and our confident demeanor. But when the dust settles, you see the truth. We prefer the darkness of our lair, the solitude of our somnambulism.
Few of us have average jobs. Most of us have amazing jobs. The majority however, are men who do their own thing. We do our own thing: freelance or personal business, because we prefer to detach ourselves from you. Working together with for you for 5 years means you'll get close. That could be fatal.
I have demons within me. Demons unlike anything Jesus himself could ever imagine or even banish.. The devil and I are friends but not the way you think. He owns me. I'm his minion and his slave. I was born this way. I was born the devil's spawn.
I have hurt endless people. Most times I do it perniciously. I let my knives slip slowly into your flesh... I watch you squirm but I take my time... I slowly slit tendons, I slowly cut veins, I slowly rip each and every portion of your being apart.... You don't even know it till it's too late. It may take me months, maybe years. I don't like what I do... I don't want to do it.. But when I let you bleed, it's the devil who controls my arms... I'm his automaton....
I beg for death.... I'd rather that. Contrary to popular opinion, a fatally flawed man like me feels deeper than most feel. I love deeper than most love and I hurt deeper than most hurt. We are cursed with a black heart that hides a well of pain that goes back all the thousand odd years each of us lives... I beg for death... I'd rather have that than this role.. This life...This death.
I have a gift... That gift is to make you believe I'm the man I always wished I could be.... But if you get close there's nothing but pain that awaits you.... It's not my wish to hurt you, but it's my role... I was born this way, I was born fatally flawed. I was born the devil's spawn.
I'm an automaton... At night, the pain I've meted on those I love haunts me... I hear their gut renching screams... I see their heart rending grimaces.... Their ghosts follow me around and torment me daily...
....Just yesterday night.... Standing atop a balcony, I leaned over the edge and contemplated jumping and falling to my death. Perhaps I could save the world what is to come.... Perhaps I could save my loved ones from the fate they know not. I sometimes feel that I can do good for the world. It's a fallacy. Even when I do good, I do evil...
Stay away... The Devil's Spawn Lives Here... And every day, I beg for death... If you look close, you'll see the devil in my eyes....
Comments
But that's not before I sink my meats into your neck and press hard, you kick my balls almost ripping them out of their sacs, but I press on ignoring your muffled cries and the pain of having your finger nails in my eyes, I am sure I wont see again at least not with that eye but I dont care. It is not that I am happy killing you. I truly dont care, You just happen to be below on the ground right now and my knees in your ribs, so I am just playing the motions, ,maybe all these pain will excite me into feeling like I used to when I still believed that life matters- you face turns blue and red, and I still keep squeezing whatever meat is left of your neck and my fingers, I am not happy, I am not sad, I am just blank
A blank moment.
Nick, try to relax though life is more beautiful than death.