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Array
(
[sid] => 37774
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => the followers
[time] => 2004-03-08 02:05:03
[hometext] => this one is three or four years old. a bit of revision, but otherwise the same.
[bodytext] => they're called followers you know they follow me they're called followers i see them everywhere in a tree or peering up at me through a sewer grate my social security number is etched into their spines sometimes i think they watch me when i ***** that's what i think of when i moan, and screech, and grind away their eyes on me the followers are trying to kill me, you see i know too much but, they don't realize that i can't remember what it is i know they can pose as anything balloons frighten me now disguised floating enemas always just out of reach my coffee's beginning to taste funny an acrid taste that sounds like poison but i'm no fool, i know their game so i pour it outside all my grass is dying i saw another just the other day he was a pigeon perched on a phone line looking over his New York Post at me marking my every move in one of those damned black books but i saw through him his newspaper was upside-down, you see i went to the zoo with my nephew the cripple all the animals were staring at me and there was a sound like big machinery it's no use to tell the police they're followers too i'm all alone and i'm afraid my girlfriend's eyes are looking unusually blank she was my last hope bets are made between ugly men about how long it will take me to snap they all wear glasses and dark derbys my phone is tapped cameras abound i undress in the dark and cry softly into my pillow hoping, praying that they can't hear the fear that they have instilled in me sometimes when i lie sleepless in bed, as i often do, i fancy i can hear the breathing of the walls it matches mine and tries to blend and when i hold my breath, so do they but i'm no fool i can't use toilets anymore when i sit, they try to swallow me and when i stand too close, hands bend out the porcelain and reach for me i'm reduced to relieving myself in bottles as i drive down the freeway and emptying my bowels behind abandoned buildings that will change soon too, i suppose my car is making strange sounds i park it two blocks away from my home so that it can't get me while i try to sleep i no longer shower for the water is merely a vehicle for flesh-eating bacteria that they have placed for me i'm forced to bathe in a small stream thirty miles from my home all my food is poisoned i'm losing weight rapidly eating only my fingernails and my hair as it all falls out have i told you that i stopped checking my mail the bills are covered in anthrax prostitutes chase me down alleys shooting hollow point STDs at me from unimaginable barrels the milkman is an android i hear him talking to the air conditioner when they think i'm asleep they're plotting on me the anticipation in their voice tells me that it won't be long now so i've bought a small pistol Nothing fancy just enough to blow off my head before they can get to me it's loaded and sitting beside me as i write you may think i'm crazy you may think this is all a paranoid delusion but it's all true i must end this testimony soon i can hear them outside now dear god, it sounds like they're all here i'm terrified i must go now, before they strike i truly hate you all for you are all followers but my death is MINE i beat you to it, you sick ***** they're coming now but i shall have the last laugh goodbye and f.......... [comments] => 6 [counter] => 296 [topic] => 59 [informant] => Cancer [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 11 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => psychoticpoems )
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