KarmaOfChaos

[color=deeppink] Darnit Arch, you posted your newest poem before my review of your old one got posted! Curse you and your fast postage-ness! Lol. Just kidding. Kyo - And I'm entitled to disagree with you. ; ) [Holding On] Bittersweet, just like the last one. People don't see you as any different, even though you're now carrying this darkness inside you...I know how you feel. Very nice rhythm, as always. Who hurt your soul so much? (sorry for this shortness, I'm getting tired...) -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] Let us all watch as Karma piece by piece takes apart and explains that poem. The World's Fantasy Prick the finger, A blood bath begins with the tip of a pin The imagery here is that a tiny prick on the finger releases a blood bath. It's a metaphor for the fact that the smallest instigation can start the biggest and bloodiest of wars. All someone has to do is say something, and it could start a revolution. Touch me, tear me Rip me apart with seduction's claws Lust's lips devour me with shining jaws Drowning and flying with pleasured pain Wicked laugh of the insane Unholy worldly fantasy Pleasure is found in pain, pain is found in pleasure. You're sick with your own lust. Confessional walls covered in blood Child's innocence ground in the mud Having come from a Catholic family, this line holds special meaning to me. It refers to the preist-pedophile controversey that went on not so long ago. A confessional, in case anyone did not know, is two small dark rooms where you, behind a screen, confess your sins to the preist. It is supposed to be a holy place of cleasing and forgiveness, but in the poem, it's become a killing ground, a place to rape the innocent. The next line is pretty straight forward, the preists' violating the small boys, destroying their innocence. Greed and jealousy entrace me Bombarding me with burning, colored lights It's the plain blank truth no one can see Behind all the pretty lights and lies. Pretty much any and every political campaign ever put on. Instigate the emotion Drown me in my own compulsion Explosion This is the world's fantasy; Insanity, Kill me with your sweet sickness Basically, I'm being destroyed by own desire, killed from the inside by my own disease, my own mind. I'm 'drowning in my own compulsion.' Not too bad, right? Anyway, I'm in a sort-of happy mood today, so I'll post one of my older, not-so-depressing poems. Here ya go: [b]Path[/b] Flying, falling, through an endless sky Dreams of reality make her cry Sleeping awake, an illusion that's real Born to please, die to feel Wings are made of wax They melt in the light, faux du pas Dancing on the earthly tip Of the sweetest ecstacy, seduction's lips Somewhere between the dark and the light Between Good and Evil's most righteous fight There is a place neither wrong nor right A path concieved of nothingness, Where time has stopped; And angels sing. Nice and symbolic, just like Tin Angel. ; ) -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] Kyo - I disagree completely. Poems are usually meant to tell a story of some sort. Arch has done it beautifully with Rise. Arch - Yes, it's somewhat similiar to Strands, but not enough for them to be copies or anything. I actually liked Rise better. Actual Review of Poem (yes, that would be nice XD) - Bittersweet, beautiful imagery, and a very unique way of presenting an age-old theme. I love the idea that you're reaching for some sort of haven, 'the starlit sanctuary,' yet you cannot seem to reach it, and when you do, you find it's not what you thought it was. The sanctuary is more of an idea than an actual place, yet it exists too. And that the bitter wars between nations and planets threatens to destroy this idea, this hope. And then the angel comes down...very lovely. -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] My apologies have been made to Heaven's Otaku. I'm not happy with myself for making a post like that, but with all things in life, I cannot and will not take it back. From every mistake there is a lesson to be learned. The lesson here? Don't post things when you're in a bad mood. -.-" I guess I'll try to restrain myself from posting on issues that I know will only get me upset. Sorry for this off-topic post, but I felt the need to make a formal apology to everyone. I won't be surprised if a moderator deletes both this post and my previous one. TTFN. -Karma {PS - Go figure, my 100th post would be a formal apology.} [/color]

[color=deeppink] Lol, no Mitch, twas not inspired by you. This story is my interpretation of what happened to me last christmas. It's all true. My real, actual life. I'm glad it's touched so many of you, I know it helped me deal with the whole issue a little better. =) -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] I can see why it's your favorite. The beginning is a little awkward, but the last 3 to 2 stanzas were [i]really[/i] good. they save you from drowning then push you down a waterfall That line really just hits you. It's an excellent metaphor. trust everyone and you die trust no one and you cry murder or suicide? your life, you decide Another very 'hit you in the face' line. You're putting out the fact that either way, you're going to get hurt, it's just your choice as to how you do it. Once again, wonderful. These lines are really similar to a Linkin Park song: do you trust someone and be weak or trust none and be lonely (song): Do you trust someone and live in phonieness Or trust no one and live in loneliness? You might try changing them, so that people don't think you're copying them. Like I said before, really good poem. It's my favorite of your poems so far too. ;) -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] No response whatsoever, which is the one thing he could have done to hurt me the most. Aya, I've given up on him. Yes, Hated is partially his fault. I should give it to him and tell him 'this is how you make me feel. happy?' Of course, that would be rather spiteful of me. And I don't want to be like that. Maybe if I keep repeating "This too, will pass," it just might come true. Probably not. But enough of that. Another poem I wrote today, inspired by my beloved friend Beezel, and written listening to Disturbed. Here we go: [b]The World's Fantasy[/b] The world's fantasy Becomes my insanity Apathy settles beneath the skin Prick the finger, A blood bath begins with the tip of a pin Desire consumnes me Wrapped in chains, I cannot flee Drunk on temptation Overloaded by sensation This is the world's fantasy. Touch me, tear me Rip me apart with seduction's claws Lust's lips devour me with shining jaws Drowning and flying with pleasured pain Wicked laugh of the insane Unholy worldly fantasy Confessional walls covered in blood Child's innocence ground in the mud Greed and jealousy entrace me Bombarding me with burning, colored lights It's the plain blank truth no one can see Behind all the pretty lights and lies. Instigate the emotion Drown me in my own compulsion Explosion This is the world's fantasy; Insanity, Kill me with your sweet sickness End. I started this poem because of the fact that insanity and fantasy rhymed, it was supposed to be lighthearted. I guess this where listening to Disturbed gets me. Although I actually love how it turned out. The only suggestion I have to anyone who reads the poem is to search for hidden meanings within the lines, sometimes they're hard to find. I myself didn't realize them until I had read it after writing it. Enough of my rambles. TTFN. -Karma [/color]

[center] [img]http://www.angelfire.lycos.com/anime5/chaostheory/sleepchildren_b.gif[/img] [img]http://www.angelfire.lycos.com/anime5/chaostheory/sleepchildren_a.gif[/img] [/center] [color=deeppink] I just made this banner. Nice and dark. I used airbrush to darken the edges, 3 differents fonts and opacities (sp?), and two different colors for the text. I also added a slight blur. The airbrush didn't turn out as well as I would have liked but...c'est la vie. I still like it. The avatar is just a cropped image with text, nothing fancy. Credit for the piece of the poem "Sleep children, never wake, and keep the dreams this world would take" goes to my mom. Take and die, under threat of copyright. ;) -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] Absolutely lovely. I may not be able to keep up with them all, but still lovely. ^^;; Window-Shopper: Intresting. I'd like to know who you had in mind when you wrote it. Reminds me of my stalker. *shudders * Very nice rhythm and rhyme though. (?): I must say...I [i]loved[/i] this one. It's dark and sensual, like a lust tinged with a sort of black love. Excellent. Definitely one of my favorites, you don't need to add to it, although it would be intresting to see how you would if you did. Overall, great job. =) -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] I won't comment again on the whole 'alchololic issue' since it is a subject deeply rooted together with pain in my past, and I feel as if I would probably get very emotional, and not look at it from a rational standpoint anymore, and would say things I might regret later. I would just ask that people who have not experienced the full force of living or dealing with an alchololic not simply spew facts about how it is heriditary, and be aware of the fact that they are treading on what is very sensitive ground for some people. And that's where I'll end my commentary on that. (I'm sorry if I offended anyone, but this is how I feel.) -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] I have but one thing to say... Rock on my fellow OBers. Rock on. -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] Thanks for the many compliments! Heh, I haven't messed with photoshop in...ages... Yes, Dagger, it needs tweaking. I was simply focusing on getting the right colors and text, it completely slipped my mind to tweak. I'll try anti-alias, I think blur might make the words too hard to read. Fire, I'd love to make you a banner. Any spefic images and/or effects you want in it?(My email is [email]Tokyo_Moon@msn.com[/email]) And I'm sure I'll have more banners soon. Just because my life is so boring I have nothing better to do. ^^;; -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] Thanks you guys. Sorry for the lack of my usual enthusiasm for poetry and such. Not really having a good day. But I'll let my poetry talk for me. [b]Hated[/b] Standing here in the rain Full of lonliness and pain Strands of hair pasted on my face Tears leave a red-rimmed trace Of all the hurt I feel inside. Staring at the window, watch the houses pass by Taunting cries, cruel made-up lies, and a choked-up sigh Shame that shouldn't be mine Guilt that shouldn't be felt And yet my heart is nothing but black. Amidst all these people I know All this love is just a show I'm not really here They don't really care Amidst all these smiling people And all I feel is hated. Hated for who you are Hated by eyes that stare from afar And think hateful thoughts that they whisper to the wind. Every word I say is a sin Hated for existing in my own skin To everyone it seems My life is just a mistake. Curled up inside this cold leather seat My life is shambles, nothing but defeat They all hate me, I'm sure of it now I'm sorry, I tried as hard as I could But I guess I just didn't know how I tried to be the person you wanted But I guess I'm just not good enough They scream at me again, startled cry Mocking laughter, let's make her fly Sleep is no escape from the hate Respite is nowhere that I might find Lost inside my own mind. Shuffle down this concrete hall Walk until you hit a wall And slowly open the door Only to realize that home isn't safe anymore Because here the screaming just gets louder The people are angrier and prouder Than anyone in the outside world. Lay in my bed Rest my aching head Hate pounds in from all sides And there's explosion on the inside The smell of hopelessness pervades everything The sick sight of surrender is everywhere, And slowly I die... Feeling hated by the world. Yep. Pretty straighforward. -Karma [/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Mitch [/i] [B][size=1] I hate country music. That said, on I go. I don't believe there is a thing such as freedom. Taking freedom for its definition: "The absence of necessity, coercion, or constraint in choice or action." Wouldn't one like to call this not existing in the first place? Or not having any being or thought. Who knows. Having not thought or choice in action reminds me of Toby Keith. Perhaps he is freedom? Perhaps he is the pied piper dancing merrily to his tune? If one is not marching along with one's crowd, then by gods he's just dancing to his own tune, a drummer beating his sticks and bones to his own heart and head. I don't think freedom is exactly indepence. It's something more. It's meant to be unattainable. Freedom. Absolution etc etc. What stupid words for a cold world. [/quote] [/B][/size] [color=deeppink] I agree with you partially. From the definition, it would seem freedom would be a state of absolute nothingness. But I don't think it's unattainable. When you're inside your own mind, simply laying there without worrying about anything else, just wandering some sort of endless path, that's freedom. True, you're constrained but the limits of your own mind. But you have to take into account that there are some limits that cannot be escaped. Freedom is simply not being held back by any outside force, not being told what to do or think. The ultimate escapism. Of course...if freedom is an escape, is it too an act of cowardice? Fear of control. Or maybe I'm totally out on a limb there. Heh. [/color] [quote][B][size=1] Now, Toby Keith's writing totally irks me. He rhymes and rhymes and rhymes and rhymes and rhymes and rhymes and rhymes and rhymes and rhymes. Country music in general is like this. How annoying? Yes. [/quote][/B][/size] [color=deeppink] Rhyming in itself isn't bad. It's just when the rhymes are there simply for the sake of rhyming, and don't really mean anything. Which, granted, is what most country music does. But then, I wasn't arguing in the name of country music, now was I? [/color] [quote][B][size=1] He basically takes what's generally happening in America and sees what general stupid red-kneck Americans think and makes a stupid song about it which is then accepted broadly and as "amazing" and ooh and ahh and wow. [/quote][/B][/size] [color=deeppink] You spelled red-neck wrong. ^-~ -Karma [/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Heaven's Cloud [/i] [B][COLOR=INDIGO] For example, if you have a drink before dinner (a glass of wine for example) to help you relax, your ?vice? is harmless. If you have to get incredibly drunk to cope with your family then you need to seek help. I guess, like most everything, you have to practice moderation. Excessiveness in anything will cause problems.[/COLOR] [/B][/QUOTE] [color=deeppink] After time, having 'a drink before dinner' will become nessicary. You can't go through the rest of your day without that drink. And after awhile, you begin to drink more and more just 'to cope.' Very bad example here. This is one of those 'harmless vices' that slowly turns into a horrible problem. I've had lots of experience with alchololics, and using such an example just...annoys me because it a common misconception that will drive people terribly wrong, because they think they aren't addicted. Very few people can habitually have 'that drink' and not become addicted. Sure, there are pleanty of people can go to a party, have one or two drinks, and be relatively okay, and I'm not saying that drinking alcholol is a sin. Just don't make it a habit. Wow...I kind of got off topic there, sorry. Bringing it back to the original purpose of this thread...vices. Besides alcholol, are there any other vices anyone can think of that start out as 'harmless' and turn into a huge problem? Just wondering what everyone else's thoughts were. -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] I'll have to disagree with DerelictDestiny here. Yes, the poem's rhyming [i]might[/i] be better, but I thought it was great as it was. And it simply reminds me so much of my own situation. I wrote the guy a letter but he has yet to respond so...I'm incredibly nervous. x_x" Anyway, really good poem. I can relate so much. Keep writing like this, and never be afraid to bear your soul in your poetry. Kudos. -Karma [/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Chaos [/i] [B]Firstly, vices are a matter of opinion. No one has the right to judge morality, unless it is on one's own part. After that, it's a conflict of the minds. It's as simple as that. If you were lost in the forest for your entire life, not knowing anything except your own thoughts, then morality would be what you decide. Society puts boundaries and vices and limits on what people should say, do, think, etc. because at one point in time, somebody stepped up and started talking and filling peoples' heads with sentimental ********. [/B][/QUOTE] [color=deeppink] Very true. But consider the fact that most of the world is born into a society, and out of all those societies, most believe a few, base things are wrong (such as murder, or rape). Since it is so common to see them viewed as 'immoral', it must be taken into account that there has to be [i]something[/i] inherently wrong with those acts, that so many societies and peoples would condemn them. However, society also can also take the majority vote, and force beliefs upon people. Such as the belief that suicide is wrong. I personally do not share this belief. So yes, your morality is your own descion. But there are certain acts that aren't acceptable in almost any place, and that because of society, your morality is reigned in, laws are put upon it. You're free to believe what you want, but be careful how you act. -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] Very nice. Like Arasoi said, and it will be something I harp on endlessly...stanzas! Having two-line stanzas makes the poem akward to read and detracts from the flow and meaning. However, despite the odd way the poems are broken up, you poems are all excellent, albiet short. They stay focused and don't ramble on, and there's no 'hidden meaning.' Nice style. I'd like to see more. =) -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] Absolutely wonderful Arch. Wingspan: Lovely and bittersweet. My favorite stanza was the one with 'keep this gift to remember me by...keep the sky.' Really beautiful. The rhythm was bit akward, but you still convey your message. I also liked the idea of a circle that's broken, but still there. Very good. =) Strands: Another nature-esque poem, and a gorgeous one at that. Yes, it was rather hard to follow, but I think it was about a war between the Sun and the Moon, and these strands of light that hold them all together. Or something along those lines. Sometimes it's better to leave your meaning abstract and full of metaphors, and this is a great example of that. I think this is my favorite so far, although Full Moon is a close second. Once again, good job. ^-^ -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] Yes. Often times, the painful emotions are what inspire the most beautiful and vivid art, because people feel them so deeply. But...since I just posted Untitled, which is not, and will never be mistaken for a happy piece in any way shape or form, I thought I'd post one of my happier poems here for today, to kind off-set the depressing tone of Untitled. Here it is: [b]Let's[/b] For one day Let?s just be Let?s just be you and me And forget about everything else Let?s sit out on the roof, and watch the raindrops fall. Let?s not answer any of our calls. Let?s pretend, and make-believe, that if you give, you are sure to receive. Let?s not listen to any of the sad songs, Let?s stay away from all the mad throngs, of all those crazy people, and all their abominations. For just one day, Let?s just be, Let?s just be you and me, and forget about ourselves. -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] I wrote this a few weeks ago. It's something I'd needed to write for myself since last christmas. I'm rather indifferent to it, but I'd like to know what everyone thinks. So...review please? [b]Untitled[/b] I stood at the edge of the counter, staring at the floor. My mother...my mother was sitting there, glass of vodka in hand, gulping it like some starving beast. In the corner of my eyes, I saw her consume glass after glass, pouring more, a lust, a desire that could never be gratified. A want that could only be ended with death. Pale red lips, makeup marks on the edge, as the burning yellow liquid slipped down. Softly...so softly I spoke to her. Coddling. Coaxing her into giving me the glass. She refused, gripping it tighter. Like a child, grasping onto its favorite toy, unwilling to relenquish it to anyone. So I stood there. Staring. Hearing the meaningless ramble she spewed between gulps, slurred speech, words I couldn't even understand. Hearing, but not listening. Listening was too painful. Don't listen. Don't ever listen. Just let yourself be numb... "Fuck you!! Fuck you bitch! You stupid WHORE! FUCK YOU!" She screamed it, at the top of her intoxicated lungs. Cringing, shocked, I stepped back as a tsunami of pain hit me. I watched her scream hateful, mindless things at my grandmother. As she hit her, hit my grandmother. She hit her. It seemed so long ago I had sworn not to cry. But the tears poured now, a waterfall, a fountain of pain and shock, a fountain of...such hurt. Choking sobs layed havoc upon my body, as I clutched myself tighter. Hearing my own, pitiful cries. Whimpering and crying, I fell to the floor. What had happened? When did things go so sour? A deeper voice now...someone's voice...I didn't know. My eyes were blinded with tears. A low, gravely voice. My father. They were both screaming now, screaming at the top of their lungs. Like a neurtotic cleaner is attracted to dirt, so to do I look up to see them. Hands on eachother, rough hands, full of rage. Reckless hands full of hate, not caring whether or not they destroyed. Where had the love in those hands gone? Now there was nothing but the hate...the screaming, bleeding, tearing hate. Inside I was dying. Wave after wave of horrible sickness hit me, disgusted and afraid, terrified. Absolutely terrified. Fear and pain, over and over again, drowning me, suffocating me inside myself. I was screaming now too, screaming for them to stop. But it was all inside my head. My lips were silent. But inside my head I was screaming, yelling, crying, begging for them to stop. Pleading on bloodied, broken knees. The smell of alcholol was so thick in the air, making my brain turn into a foggy mush. Nails painted black dug into the skin, tearing the cover apart, releasing the crimson life beneath. Alcholol and blood and tears, all mingled together inside my mind, exploding together in some sort of terrible crescendo, a horrific rhapsody. Dark hair brushed against my eyes, eyes lined red and wet from all the pain my body had rejected in the salty tears. I watched her with those pain-ridden eyes, so full of anguish and despair. Dark, endless eyes. And then she was gone. Gone. The house grew quiet, the disturbance had fled. She was gone. Out the door, yelling, whispering, stomping, sliding, slipping with unsteady legs. As if she had never been there, disappearing without anyone realizing she had the intention of leaving at all. Everything was so silent now...and as my body slowly started to realize what happened, I felt myself leave the calmness of the eye, and back into the storm. Fear. A thousand poisoned arrows hit me at once, a billion swords gutted me alive. The fear destroyed me, tore me apart. She was going, with suicide on her lips. I would never see her again, she was falling straight through my fingers. And even with all the hate and the pain, all the sadness she had caused, I knew that if she left for good, I wouldn't be able to pick myself back up again. Terrified, I finally let the screams that had been waiting so long to be heard. I was going to lose her to death, lose her to my own selfish pain. My arms and legs, once dead, regained movement, no time left for being numb and broken. If I didn't save her now, we both would die. I ran to my grandmother, yelling, begging for her to call the cops. Call the ambulence. Call anyone. Someone to help me, because I couldn't do this alone. We had tried that already, being alone, not speaking, not doing anything. It didn't work. Now was the time to speak, to scream. This was it, redeem myself now or die trying, die regretting my life. I sat there listening to her soft, aged voice. The whimsical North Jersey accent. And memories came flooding in. Memories of the beach, the shore. The quaint little house. The little path filled with blackberries. All these sweet things...so pure and innocent. When did my life become so black? When did I lose all these beautiful things? I lost my innocence to my own selfish sin, my own refusal of help. I sat there and let us all suffer, not saying anything, not saying all those words that needed to be said so much. The tears started running again, draining me of all my happiness, my very soul falling into the soft fur of my teddy bear. A hard knock on the door woke me from my reverie, brung me back to the bleeding present. Creak went the door, opening, as my eyes stared full of hope for my mother's familiar face. But it was a unknown face, a man dressed in the blue uniform. A cop. He leaned down, his beady blue eyes staring at me. His fat, sweaty body pervaded my space, my pathetic little world. His unknown odor invaded my nose, disturbing my sense of smell. "Hey there little miss. Don't worry, it's gonna be alright." Bastard. I felt like screaming at him until my lungs tore and filled with blood, and drowned me.The very audacity, to begin to think he could even comprehend this, even begin to know what caused my tears. How dare he assume that he knew, how dare he. Anger and hate, they filled my body until I thought I might explode from the rage. Excuse me, but WHAT PART OF THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE ALRIGHT?! Dark, hateful, black eyes stared at his disgusting form, directing all my emotion to his one being. This was not alright. Hours passed, and the fear increased. A growing monster, clawing, digging at my ribs, leaving ragged, angry tears in my flesh with long, metallic claws. Eating me away from the inside, chewing at my heart, as veins burst and spewed blood, rusted ruby life unto the floor. And all the while I knew, with each minute that passed was another moment she had to end her life, and with it, mine. Biting the raw sking on my lip, not caring as it cracked open, a small new red river trickling forth...and then all of the sudden, like lightining breaking forth from the sky and striking me down...the phone rang. I jumped out of my seat, having been so lost in myself I had forgotten the real world even existed anymore. They had found her. They had found her outside a hair salon. A fucking hair salon. I felt anger well up inside me, destroying the fear and turning it to aged ash. An addictive drug, the rage pounded in my ears. She had been at a hair salon. All my fear, all my tears, all of that...wasted on someone like her. How was it that she had the right or the ability to hurt me so deeply? To reach her hand into my spirit and rip it out, like some bleeding, pulsing thing, grasping, gulping for air that couldn't be found. A fish pulled out of water and left on the ground to die of suffocation. She had taken my spirit and broken in a thousand places, taken her words as knives and thrust them into me so far, cutting chunks of me away, carving a sick demented picture out of me for her own disturbed pleasure. I sat there, raging and numb, having choked on my tears. Slowly, my legs moved, uncramping themselves from the position they had held for hours. Unsteady, unsure, unknowning, I walked bleeding and broken up the stairs. And then I collapsed. Falling on the floor, weeping, sobbing, crying, screaming, bleeding, dying. Killing myself from the outside in, and the inside out. This was never going to end. -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] Yes, indeed, without Wing, we would be much more worse for the wear. So we must give credit to G Gundam where credit is due. But that still does not change the fact that GG is less than...adequate as far as plots and animation skills go. -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] Thanks! If anyone would like me to make them a banner, I'd be more than happy to. And hopefully I'll start making some more banners soon. =) -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] Yea! I'm not alone! ^^;; Amen to all y'all(wow, my southerness is showing). People are just too concerned about what people will think of them. Inside, they feel a deep want to go t'o'ting, but the supress it and go to some silly party. ^-~ With that said...on to breakfast! * pulls out her pillowcase full of candy and begins her war against the candy * -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] Wow. I'm reading this at 6:15 am on no sleep, while listening to Daft Punk and Disturbed. Could I get anymore weird? But anyway... This was amazing Mitch. The insanity, the gore, the brutality of it all, absolutely screaming at the world. The symbolism, imagery...it's all beautifully done. I agree, the repetitiveness adds to the madness of the character, his sick obsession. The end was intresting. I thought that he had been sitting there all the time, just inside his own mind. So I was thrown off by the whole 'put in jail' thing. Then I went and read how he actually had killed them, and I then I got it. A hallucination upon a hallucination upon a hallucination. Very nice. Okay...I'd write more, but my mind feels like wasted dead grey matter. So, great job, you rock. All that good stuff. -Karma [/color]