Perfection.

Weeks ago i had a dream. In it i was someone else (what are dreams for, right?), someone i've met before in real life, but forgot about all too quickly. Yet the past has ways of catching up with us, no matter how far behind we try to put it. I saw the world through different eyes, heard different things being said to me, but i felt the same, as if only my sight and hearing have been changed somehow. Still, i was not myself.
Shame, shame, shame... I shan't think of my dreams, they make me feel dirty, as if i have been swimming in the pool of filth, filled with the most dreadful horrors and perversions imaginable. I will be God someday, i am a perfect creature after all. Didn't you know? We all are, but some of us hide it. My genitals are falling off and i laugh as if a great weight has been shed like a snake skin with my tears. None of it makes sense any-longer and i am glad for i do not wish to be understood, i want everyone to forget that i have ever existed. That is when it hits me - i was not born yet! I throw scissors against the wall and they stick to a wall paper as if they are made of clay and once more i die of laughter, exploding and spilling my guts all over my cell, where i have been kept all these years. Didn't you know? I'm... Not well. That is what i have been led to believe by those i trust the most. My lovers, whom i loathe for what they do to me, for how they make me feel. I reach into my pocket and find a cockroach, it is still alive and it's hungry, oh, it's so terribly hungry it starts biting my finger. I look at it with pity, i wish i could feed it something more nourishing then my dead skin leftovers, but i have to let it go. And so i squeeze the poor critter with my fingers until i hear a tiny cracking noise and slime starts pouring out of that small body. I laugh and i cry, i love myself for what i have done. Now i'm whole again.
Shadows in the corners are thicker now, it starts to rain, i run and hit my head against the wall of my own stupidity, step on a dead cockroach, dance upon it's mortal remains until there is nothing left, until i cry no-more. Thoughts of alien nature fill my head, things i have been punished for doing when i was still nothing but a cloudy substance, like a puff of cigarette smoke. My lovers were punishing me for anything i would not wish to share with them, but i could not help myself. They wanted to make all my dreams and hopes and thoughts real, and i could not allow that, so i did the only reasonable thing - i slit their shadowy throats while they slept at my feet. I wish that could solve the problem, and yet... They are still lingering here, waiting, wanting me to open my embrace to them, take then in my arms and make love to them.
I am ashamed of myself so much it hurts. Shall i show them what i have prepared or will they suffer the unknown? I am the one pulling the strings from now on, i am the Master, no longer will i submit to their power. My existence is made of ashes and tears and dust. Didn't you know? I'm a doll some children made of sand and forgot about, not knowing that they made something alive. I want to be crushed by a cloud, but they are too nice to kill any-one, fucking goody-two-shoes hypocrites. They kill us with acid rain, and they call it blessing.
No, i should not be angry with then, it is our fault that they are now poisonous. We made them like this and now they are simply paying us back for ruining their lives with by-products of ours. Would you like to see the future? Alas, i can not show it to those who don't deserve it, you are unworthy of such privilege, even though you are my lover, my creation, my monster. Didn't you know? I created you. That is why you are so perfect and insane...