Perhaps one shall see an image that should not be -- an
illusion of what one sees within their mind. That the
mind seems to play tricks on them as the horror one
cannot fathom has become a reality. The darkness within
the ally I walk in alone -- I could feel the cold kiss
of the Angel of Death as I could see the writings along
the wall. The graffiti tells the tale of horror which
lurks within the streets -- the masses of children
laying on their lawn, the only person who seems to be
their friend is the Angel of Death because all they
feel are the bullets impaling them at random, one at a
time. The horror one could see in the street; the
deafening shots of gunfire as one could see monsters
driving up all dressed in red, purple, and black. For I
can see their tattoos -- the blood red tear drop on
their eyes symbolizing every person they murdered in
cold blood. The mocking sounds of laughter as one hear
them firing four or more rounds within them the
bleeding of the horror which follows them -- a
throbbing of what one sees within the streets. One will
ask, “What type of monster would kill their own -- or
who is the method to their madness?”
One could see the contract they signed -- for
they are without a soul. The purchase of guns with a
price is very expensive -- how much is one willing to
pay for a weapon? I have seen the heart of their
madness -- how one has drawn the blueprints of reality
in the darkness. The guns one loves eats them up from
inside -- tearing their soul apart one piece at a time.
The horror which lurks within the heart of
madness -- the blood one shall taste is their own. The
cold blood one feels flowing in their veins as he rush
of the clentching of his finger -- the grip of the
trigger tightens firing off four more rounds at another
innocent target. The vampire slowly pulls the trigger;
laughing at the act he did -- the rush he feels in his
mind as he loves the feel of the gun. The horror at the
other end of the barrel one is in a cold sweat -- the
fear one has of death has a suicidal hold -- for the
blood in the shadows one feels runs cold within the
night. The horror of gunfire drown out the screams on
the other end of the barrel -- the morbid fear which
eats away at their mind -- the laughter within the
shadows as one could see the demons clad in black,
purple,and red. The tatoos of the tears upon the eyes
of the demons in the flesh -- All I could hear is
demented sounds of laughter coming from Cermak Road as
I watch another innocent child blown away with one
deafening sound of gunfire filled the sound with the
Devil’s laughter.
This horror I witness -- for that I know as the
method into the heart of madness. The guns that I keep
hearing in the streets -- the unknown fear as I feel
the innocents scream are still uncertain, the darkness
that surrounds the area as I could the tormented
prayers under the street light as I watch one standing
alone on the street corner. This person was clad in all
sorts of jewelley and a sweat suit passing out coccaine
laced with rat poison -- I watch people crowd around
him purchasing this substance. The torment one cannot
understand their method to their madness -- the reality
one has to watch the body count as they inject the
needle slowly into their veins -- The fear one could
see isn’t a fantasy, but a reality. This isn’t your
supernatural horror myths but this is a reality of
horror -- within one’s mind. The darkness within the
ally is the only evil that keeps one company at night
-- the harrowing visions in the method of the heart of
madness, the screams within the race of hypocrisy. The
horror of one’s disbelief -- deafening blasts of
gunfire fill the air as one continues to lust for
gunpower -- the rush one has for the love to murder.
That they are only a fool -- for what they don’t
realize that they are really blind. They could only
see into the heart of their madness -- for this madness
is left unspoken within their mind. For this they are
left blind within the torment of their thought
patterns.
I am watching the reality that torments one’s
mind but what I see -- that this I am numb to what I
see. This horror one calls this is the streets -- the
masses crying at their feet. The jungle one knows of as
the concrete jungle -- within this jungle, there is a
method within the heart of madness. The laughter
remains heard as the guns -- continue to fire out the
screams of death -- for the demons with the tear drop
tatoos cry mock tears, for each person they murder on
their turf. The horror in the concrete jungle -- driven
into the heart of madness. The reality of a suburban
hell is the heaven for gang member’s heaven -- for the
killing is their playground and the toys they play with
are guns -- for every person walking down the street
are tortured by a reality -- the reality of who is the
prey.
The children of the projects learn at a young age
-- of the horror one knows as the heart of madness.
This madness throbbs within ones’s mind as the insanity
takes a hold as one could feel the cold breath from the
Angel of Death. As one walks down this dark, gloomy
road. Knowing this one’s fear is their only friend --
the only key to survial in the street.
This story can also be read in Spanish Se hablo espanol. as of 1/9/98, this is for you visitors that speak spanish.
May be reproduced by
kind written permission of the author
1994 TVT/leaving hope music. Taken from The Downward Spiral