martythepigpilot's Journal

The engine of my destruction, now a spent force, lies before me on the desk, the plunger fully depressed and a drop of blood slowly congealing on the tip of the needle in the light of my desk lamp as I write these last few words.

The syringes' lethal message is contained now within my left arm, whose skin darkens like a pregnant thundercloud waiting to release it's cargo of pent up violence. Under the influence of the ketamine, and the length of inner tube cinched around my bicep, my arm is cold and and throbbing...

But this thing that festers within me like a pustulent cyst, forcing it's way into my consciousness waiting to explode again and cast it's corruption into the world, is no longer tolerable to me... And I can't allow it to go on any longer...

There... It's done... And my torment will soon be at an end...

---

He sits back in his chair and the inner tubing drops to the floor, his gaze fixes on the rain streaming down the window above his desk....
As the tranquiliser works it's way through his system he starts to slump down in the chair, his arms slowly dropping to his sides and his breath becoming slower and shallower until with one last expiration..... it's over...