The darkness within (** not finished** )

The pain is unbearable. Not my pain but the pain of others. Were it my pain I could bear it. Were it my pain I could delight in it. It is also not pain that others feel on there own. That type of pain I could manage to console or at the very least ignore. No this pain is the very pain that I my self inflicted on others.Oh not from words, sharp, hateful and hurtful. But pain I my self have inflicted with my own two hands. Others who deserved it, others that did not. Wounds that healed; unlike the lasting scars of the spoken cutting word. And wounds that did not heal. At least not completely.
All wound scare. All scars fade at least with time. But not my scars. Not the scars of the screams of anguish, the screams of pain, the scars of the screams of fear, the screams of shear terror! The sounds of horror! The deep dull thud of solid hitting tissue. The smell of worm blood as it courses from freshly torn flesh. The feel of my hand deep within the poring wound to deepen the pain to deepen; to deepen my excitement. Louder still the sound of bones ever so meticulously and methodically ever so slightly twisting again ever so slightly splintering beneath the skin. Bones swiftly brutally snapped. The sight of limbs filling with blood that has no escape no place to go. Only the point of trauma only to settle. The mixture of moaning and screaming; as the pain comes and goes.
There screams as well as mine. There moans as well as mine! There screams of pain; mine of delight and rage! There moans of agony; mine of pleasure and satisfaction in the doing! Satisfaction in a job well done. What had I become? At that point I did not care. I cared only for the adrenaline the rush, the power I felt! I cared for the price paid, but not the cost.
They say confession is good for the soul, but with confession comes remembrance. With remembrance the sting of emotion and the rising of these maggot laden, putrid rotting corpses of the past deeds. The stirring of them brings the stench to the surface. While this makes most heave and vomit; it places me in almost a place of sick fondness.
Fondnesses for there are things I do well, but as it pertains to pain I am a master. I am in control ! I CONTROL ! I CONTROL !! Or dose it control me?! Master of it or master of me; I am, I was good at it! I was great at it! Those who would send me would say that I am an artist , a master craftsman who never lacked once in creating a rare piece of art, a a masterpiece as it were. The art work to awful to display, though some were. What is; what was wrong with me! Who would take delight in the mangling of fingers, the crushing of toes. Who would delight in the steam as it rises from a gaping poring wound on a cool moonlit night as he worms his hands over it. There are worse things than the monsters in movies, fairy tales and books and IT sits and writes/reads now as we speak. This writing is a kin to letting go while holding on all at once. For now this “thing” I have let go of is now strangely a part of me again; an unexpected result of the writing of which know not whether to embrace or distain.



Now as I think on those who bid me go those who set me in motion. Plying me with the tools of my artistic endeavors; that is the skill and knowledge of how to use my natural abilities. These fain at the thought that they own me! That they had a say!That they controlled me! CONTROL ME?! I CONTROL!! How dare they set me in motion then when they fell like it decide to pull me to do artistry for another someone they decide on. You fools you presume I work for you. I work for me for my satisfaction.
Now all the worse for them; at my refusal to do there biding for another there comes a threat. They threaten me? And do so by sending one to tell me thinking he would tap in to my fear? You can’t tap or dig up anything that dose not exist. I feared the monster in
the closet when I was a child but I am not a child now. Now I am the monster. They sent me with a message he said. I knew there message was pain but his eyes told on him. You see he knew of me and there was fear in them; wide open leering back and forth with a non deliberate gaze. I bid him to look me in the eyes, he would not. I turned my back to him. He was there to do me harm but I knew by his fear he would not. He stepped towards me I asked him if he was sure and he stepped back. he was bigger he was some younger he was stupid. But not stupid enough to touch me at least yet. Though that is why he was there. Sent for a message. Sent to cause me pain. PAIN? They only thought they knew me if they thought that would deter me? Convince me? Persuade me? I asked him what he intended to do. He only stammered. If he did nothing they would deal with him harshly as they tried to do with me a t my first hesitation; but there dealing with me became my proving ground. It would by my experience not be that way for him. It would serve to break him. DO SOMETHING OR RUN!I screamed. It startled him so that he swung at me but I had already dropped to sweep his legs. He fell hard on the tile floor; his head sounding like a cocoanut shell cracking. in one motion I turned an brought down the back of my heal to his throat to his larynx. I stood placing my foot across his throat and told him he could go and if he hold tight to his larynx he would be able to breathe easier. I walked to a table and took a piece of paper and jotted a note and told him to give to them after he went to there doctor (actually a retired veterinarian) He left gagging and choking. I was laughing but I felt sorry for him. I never saw him again.
I thought of what was to come. Would it be the beginning of the end? Be the end for me. Or would it be my beginning, my new start. I had wanted to stop but was so consumed by the power and by the fear of others. It is not fear that I crave it is love that eludes me love that will not dwell with me. How could love come to one such as I? If it were ever to come would I destroy it as I have every thing else in my life. ( I know now the answer is yes it seems.)
Those who would control me; how foolish. it was they that urged me to learn the thing the mannerisms the techniques of the trade But they never counted on the curious joy the shear pleasure of these things would bring. They sought to put me away. Not because I was not useful but because I had become sought after by others. they would sell me , rent me out like a video in demand. It is I,I am the one In control NOT THEM ME,ME! They don’t control me I was not built I became. They will see. All of them some together some One By One but they will see. They will feel they will experience this thing they think they have made this thing that became and its abilities. No they did not count on my love for this, the shear enjoyment derived from this, from the process. This must be where I get my need for order. from this teaching ,this art of pain.
Interestingly many of the receptors in the body that produce the pain or the out flowing of my artistic endeavors, also with the proper ever so delicate attention or sometimes not; have the ability to produce pleasure even ecstasy. Though to date I have never felt close or comfortable enough to share this knowledge. In the current distain the current rejection and judgment and lack of freedom pleasure let alone ecstasy cannot exist. Perhaps this sadness is part of; not payment but consequences of this wondering into this deep darkness in which I dwelt sadder still I am apparently destined to never know.

Now I come to the place of business. It’s not a building but a place I went and sometimes even still go in my mind for preparation. Not unlike a painter prepares his canvass his brushes for his attempt at his next master piece. As I closed my eyes I could see each of there faces in my mind I can clearly see even still the before and the after. It’s the after and during that doesn’t seem to want to leave my thoughts. Anyway the night was late dark and cold. Not too dark though the moon was full and in a way poetic considering the transformation within me that was to take place. I stood in the shadows continuing to prepare. I braided my then long hair back into a long tight pony tail of three separate braids into one braid and my beard as well in to three sections. I did this not for looks but for the function of the clean up after and for the numerology, but I do suppose that it lent a certain look of foreboding
The preparation is done my mind and sadly my heart are ready to do these things. I could feel my eyes as they seemed to turn black along with my heart. As I came upon the first blank canvasses. There were three of them. More than I had anticipated but not more than I could handle; the trick was to take or rather disable two if not at once then as quickly as possible. As It/I now approached It/I could feel a deep black cover IT/ME not as much to hide IT/ME but to enhance. IT could feel a deep growling of sorts resonate deep in the back of ITS thought so deep that IT could almost taste ITS own blood in ITS throat. The taste of it was pleasing to IT because IT knew that IT would invariably but not on purpose taste the blood of others that night. The sound of the heavy chain IT carried startled one of them .his own senses betrayed him and chose him to be first. He fell hard as the chain wrapped around his head now snapping and twisting back as the chain was pulled back with great force IT would not have to touch him again as he bled from the eye sockets and ears. The Ax handle IT held in ITS other hand crushed the temple of the second to flinch and betray himself. But he would not stay down It would need to revisit him in a moment. The third stood as though in shock IT was pleased for that was ITS intent. Shock then FEAR! As IT approached him IT could smell hot fresh urine And laughing deeply again; ITS intent. IT drops ITS chain and ax handle grabbing this one with his bare hands pressing ITS thumb deeply into his eye socket till IT felt collapse now smiling wider still It turns loose to admire ITS work as Picasso holds his thumb up to size up his artistry. IT looks at the blood and matter on ITS thumb. At that moment It feels a sharp pain on the back of its head He who would not lay down had picked up ITS ax handle and mistakenly tempted to take IT down. What a fool! IT let him hit IT once again now there was ecstasy! IT screams with delight Taking the ax handle away for him pulling it across his neck pulling tighter and tighter till he gagged and vomited then IT released just long enough for him to regain his senses then IT began again repeating many times till IT lost ITS amusement in it so IT allowed him to pass out always being careful not let him die because death would be a release and IT wanted pain. Lasting PAIN! Now IT turned to the one holding what was left of his eye taking the ax handle bringing it down square in the middle of his head. He went limp then began to shake and posture; common with concussion, IT raised his feet to minimize the shock so as not to feel deaths release, he would live. Finally IT stood of a ways to admire the now blood splattered canvases. IT could now taste the blood IT had anticipated ITS rage only heightened by the taste. The one taken first begins to wake but will not move; voluntarily at least, not for many months. Coming to himself and realizing what he felt or rather the lack of what he felt he began screaming then crying .IT could leave now this masterpiece was complete. IT would now move on to the next canvass or canvasses as were the case here.

This time IT came to the building where IT had first met them, those who would use IT. Those who would control IT. IT knew One was there that IT admired this will feel good. IT goes in He asks calling ITS name that now seems unfamiliar if IT has a job IT says yes. The sound in my voice seemed to strike freer in his eyes It never anticipated this but IT was pleased at the sight. He was sitting at the piano so his fate chose its self. IT approached him who he admired his voice began to quiver he knew there would be pain tonight. he did not know there would be pain for the rest of his sick pathetic life. IT placed ITS hand almost lovingly in between his shoulders then violently and repeatedly IT slammed his face into the keyboard till he was limp with unconsciousness. IT picked him up and held him in the chair he had been using as a stool with the heavy chain. Then IT carefully placed his hands on the keyboard of the piano and preceded to one by one with great precision break each bone in his hands the hands of one IT once admired. OH the ecstasy experienced throughout the entire two hour process. IT finally finished by breaking both bones in the fore arm on each arm but not in the same place on the bone IT knew if IT staggered the breaks the setting and healing would be more difficult an more painful.
IT needed to leave. Daylight would soon be upon IT. IT would be easily seen more easily discovered. The task at hand required two more canvases they would have to wait. But now they would be looking for IT.IT was thrilled at this prospect. Challenge was good IT liked the effort. But IT would come closer to ending a life than IT ever had with the finishing of the final two blank canvasses.