They say it's all in our heads. Pain, insanity, madness. What do they know? They haven't been subjected to it, or have the want, the need, the desire to cut open a sack of flesh, perfectly untouched clean marble like skin. So soft and fragile like a child, yes those are of the better to have. So small, innocent, skin soft and perfect to the touch. Like the young one I use to teach, such nice skin, smooth like a marble, so much like her father's, yes, his reaction to when he found that I was to blame for the scars on his beautiful marble skin.
The older ones, much like the one laying on my table at this moment, are not as much fun. They have been through much sun exposure and permanent ink with those metal pieces stuck to the navel and random places on the face. Those are the ones for a last resort, to long in the sun and their skins like a leather hide. Her face was filled with holes from those metal implants, she fought harder than expected. Called names, bit, the biting I found quite humorous. Her last attempt to fight me off was nothing more than a bunch of foul words and saying that I "was fucked in the head" funny, I've cut it open enough to see for myself and never not once found any problem. Her body now disfigured and unrecognizable, I drag her to the outside door for the world to see my creation, one of my works of art, my masterpiece, so lovely now.
All in the head they say? No, not in the head, in soul, the very essence of our being, madness lies in everyone. Deep down our dark desires will slowly consume us all, for the better? Or for the best of us all. How many heads have I opened to examine this statement, how many scalps have I peeled away from the skull to get a closer look, how many more will I have to before I see were in the head. I can always feel the madness creeping around lurking about every corner ready to take control ready to pounce at every given moment. So much like a spider it spins a web. Every complex design it weaves I focus on tightening my screw and not about how many ways I'll cut her open. with her marble skin. Just so tempting to rip her vest and shirt right off her now adult body and slice into her, so tempting to cut from her navel to the slight dent in the middle of her chest just to hear her screams to flood my ears of pure bliss.
In my head. Yes in my head, that is where madness lies. before I could comprehend what the scalpel in my crimson soaked hand was doing red filled my vision as a new slice was made from my nose to the edge of my hairline on the back of my head. Yes I feel it, everywhere the madness is truly in my head. As they presumed it would be. So wrong how could have I been so damn wrong. Digging deeper and deeper it envelops me further and further down to the depths of its root. Funny thing, about the brain, not a squiggly pink like most think but a pale blush of a ginger root. With all the might that the madness has left me with I release the core of the essence. More stitches paint my face this one overlapping the one that has already gone across. Giggles escape my mouth pushing past my lips soon escalating into full blown madness induced laughter. In my head in my head in my head. Ha! This whole time and it was only a cut away from being caressed.