Rantings of a Mad Man

Soon the light was flickered off. Images flickered in my mind. Dead and disturbing, they haunt me. Why were they here? Was there a purpose in these disturbed images? They plagu me. I can't wash them away. God I can't wash them away. No matter how much I try. I just can't. Easier washing the blood off of my hands. I see the blood on my hands. I wash my hands and it's gone, but none runs off. Is it another image? Is there really blood? I got to wash it off though! Grr! I know I'm not crazy, I swear I see the blood! I see them everyhwere. Do you not see them? You are crazy! They're right there! I didn't cut myself, they did it! They did it! They told me the'll put you in time out if you keep asking questions! Leave me alone! What? What are you doing? Put the knife down! God is on my wal, jesus is in my bathtub! Hah! My hands are bloody now...It's running! It's running when I wash it! I think...I think it's real this time!...I thin it's mine this time too...1

The poor man fell to the ground dead. His appartment was filled with bodied on the walls, and a man in his bathtub, still alive, hanging on a cross.2