Well i would like to think i was a normal kid growing up in eastern Jersey. Simple family two brothers who both went to college and went their ways. My sister was the nicest girl you could ever meet. Made it through every grade in school with the best grades in school. I was quite simple myself i had no real talents got by in school with average grades. I guess the boredom set in at about 15 when i tried to light a tree on fire with a two rocks and some hay from Shepard's old barn house. I didn't really know why i did it and quite frankly i didn't remember even wanting to do it. It was almost like i was day dreaming and then everything comes back into focus and you realize that what you were doing has no purpose or reason so you get up and leave. It was strange i always would find myself under that damn tree with those two granite rocks. I got sick and tired of finding myself their so i put them out of sight and out of mind. I really started to notice something was wrong when i always ended up with those same rocks back at that tree no matter where i put those things. By age 23 things really started to get dark. I felt as if randomly during my day a dark shadow would cast itself across me. Like a shadow casting across a small village when clouds cover the blazing morning sun. At first it was not a frightening but escalated to a severe depression and then anger. I couldn't control it at some points. I would feel that shadow making its way up my body and everything going numb then it would go from 8:43 AM to 2:31 PM. When i awoke from the "nightmare" is what i call it, objects in my room would be scattered about and assorted in strange places. One time i had a huge blank canvas. I thought to myslef "what if i could paint these spirits out of me onto this canvas and set myself free from this torment." I awoke the next morning feeling clean and healthy ready to exhale this black abyss out of my lungs when i come to find the canvas finished. It had looked like a 3 year old had hand painted it, and i noticed that the messy marks and squiggles actually formed the shape of a coin. The black paint could be made out as a head and the yellow paint another head facing opposite each other. It took me awhile to realize that the word "Genocide" painted at the top of the canvas was not red paint but in fact blood. In a panic i ripped my clothes off to find a wound the shadow had inflicted on me but their was no wound. The next 4 hours drove me insane as i paced back in forth thinking about whose blood that is and why the f**k is this happening to me? By age 27 i could not control it any longer. I could never tell what was real. noises from my air vents would haunt me at night. The sounds in the darkened hallway would tease me at night. At first i was scared to the point where tears were no longer apart of me. Just silence and black. that coin from the canvas was no plastered all over various objects. I need a way out. suicide? No. i am not a coward. drugs? how is that going to help? i am such a fool. therapy? are you kidding? then what the f**k do i do? how am i supposed to know figure it out. theirs nothing left to do but sit in this prison i have created in my own mind. prison? (chuckle). you are not as smart as i thought you were. well you can't blame me your the one who keeps f*****g around when im in the nightmare. You have been right next to me this whole time. You painted the canvas with the blood...not my blood....what did you do? silence. hello? silence. answer me f****r. silence. Can i help you? as if reality feel back down like an wave crashing into the shore it all came to me. Sir, can i help you? w...w...where am i. silence. where am i? silence. at the blink of my eye the room changed into a dark basement with the sound of a horrible deed screaming from the dusty boxes and furniture. NO! this is not your head its MINE. silence. b******s playing games. a shiny gold object caught the corner of my eye. their lay a young man probably in his early thirties. His face hidden by the shadow of those dusty boxes. I took a few steps forward and say his shirt was taken off and the two headed coin was painted on him. their was a cut in his neck artery and "Genocide" was written on his forehead. he cried and feel to his knees. why? you know why. the voice returned. No i don't. Well my friend. i sure don't know. your the one who did it. no. oh yes you did. no. yes you did. get out. whats that son? get out. and go where? away, this is my life. Oh but on the contrary. Your the other face on the two headed coin in the pocket of a killer.
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