Don't read this.

The possibility of being worse than I was, oh, weeks ago.
The possibility of schizophrenia.
The possibility of depression.
Of causing my mum's patients significan harm by riling up my mom while she is at work.
Violence.
Emotional abuse.
Isolation.
Words are beautiful. Smiley's come alive with a twist of the eye. Your voice in my head at night.
No body.
I lost my knife before I could give it to Lauren.
I still love her.
I don't like people. They are rubbish and so am I.
What are we here for
You're not great. You are just good at having fun.
Don't read this.
I woke up crying and cried for half an hour in bed without feeling anything. I read the friday digest. I think it must have been crying because water was running out of my eyes.
I don't dig you because you don't dig me.
I am like a circle. You're not, so why expect me to do something first.
Thank you Ellie for barring me from rock city because you got all the gossip from the horses mouth by the door to the basement. I could have done with going out to a club last night and tho there aren't many for alternative lifestyle people, and our one and only has crap djs, who play the hip hop tongue in cheek, and commas are sad and this has been a week when writing prose is almost impossible. Ellie, why did you have to ask me then? Stop thinking of yourself in the context of other people. Is thinking about other people in the context of oneself worse? Probably. Thank you shaddow silver. I wish I was homosexual, I really do. I want to fight Kader before he goes to Thailand, because he sees how messed up I am now and he bullied me so if we fought it would be great for both of us. I'm going hunting. I'm addicted to weed. I'll hunt for Foster's or Red Stripe larger at a good price, around the water hole be ready for the well paid louts and their stricken, bubble head younger siblings on the parks, soft asphalt, hard concrete, softer me. I'll guess at what Thomas the Drug Dealer meant be saying "tick tock tick tock" as I stepped towards his red front door last night at 2am and when I have a few solid possibilities I will attempt to fit them to the way things look today. Alix hasn't been in touch. I hope YOU found the uncertainty and the hope in my poem. If she doesn't make herself known I will go to Thomas' and work out if it is Kader who isn't happy with me. If nobody is angry with me they should tell me. I'm this angry, angry like the lonely and used sea, because they wont tell me and they wont do that because they are "too stoned." It's just an disinclination. I know what they feel but I don't act because, essentially, there is no need for me to. I'm not sociable anyway, and I wish Thomas wouldn't practice his cut-throat business techniques on me. Thomas, you are my oldest friend here. When I think of you my crying now shrinks like my dick when Beth said something pathetic and unsexy and uncalled for when we were having sex.
I am useful because I am the rage, the hate, the mal-loved fists of men everywhere. I will write and I will kill, as I have done, as my mother and father did when they killed my father. I will kill. Ask yourself how you will kill too. To me it's a grand idea.