journal entry #77

i am going to continue my poem now.
right now i am sitting in my brothers living room wiping the blood from my face,
i stop for a second to think "whoa, this is a nice place",
the year is 2020, i am 30,
and right now i feel so goddamn dirty,
i just killed four men, with children and families,
but damn it felt good, i feel so manly,
my conscience split in two, i dont know what to do,
i feel extreme guilt and extreme pleasure,
my feelings changing like the crappy weather,
i continue telling the story, and if you are not, ill treat you the same,
are you with me ? are you game?
my brother says yes, of course i will help you.