Take turns jumping off the bridge and sinking to the bottom. Ignore the water rushing into your lungs and focus on all the bodies you've all thrown into this lake. Take the remorse with you as you die.

He crucifies his dreams. He pins them on the wall and forgets about them. They are markers of the alienation he feels as a reluctant part of the species. He wishes he could disintegrate. He desires everything. He desires destruction.

Send yourself messages.

She is not there. She is hollow.

He looks inside the tree for the gun that he hid that night.

There is no future. He has given up. He must do it, they rely on him to kill them. Every night it's the same murder. Every night it's the same victims that die. He dare not interrupt the time loop that he has thrown himself into.

You've got to get away from me, because I have leprosy. You've got to pay me for all of the sins I committed in the dark alleyways of your subconscious. You've got to wash away all of the things I wrote on the walls of your apathy, because you might start to feel and no one wants that.

What are you afraid of? Try living for a living. Try breathing. Try to climb out of the tomb that encircles us all and let me know if you make it because I want out too.

Don't touch me . . . I have leprosy and a violent streak.