[Not for the weak of heart; contains mild horror and foul language and slight gore]

My friends don't walk, we run Skinny dip in rabbit holes for fun
Poppin' Poppin' Balloons With Guns
Gettin' high off
Helium

You sat in the corner of this dark bunker he had created, staring at a crack in the wall; trapped in your own thoughts. You'd been here for at least a year, maybe two. Your hair was long and matted, knotted into clumps with debris in it. Your skin was coated in layers of dried sweat, tears and filth. Your clothes were a bit short, but swallowed your form; you barely ate. The trauma and pressure of it all was getting to you. The atmosphere was tense, cramped, the loudest possible silence. You murmured quietly to the white rabbit a few feet away. It's red eyes pierced yours, and the ground swallowed it into a deep abyss. Your eyes widened a bit, and you scratched your arms. The hallucinations only got more vivid, more real.

We paint white roses red
Each shade from
a different person's head


Every single night, he'd leave for hours at a time, bringing back bouquets of ivory roses, and stain them red with the blood on his hands, arranging them around you, making scenery of you. Sometimes, if you shuffled, a thorn would poke you, and being numb for who knows how long, the prick would feel like a white hot iron; piercing your flesh. You'd shriek, swatting the air around you madly, eyes blazing, until he got sick of it and slapped you across the cheek. You'd pant heavily, looking around wild-eyed and settle back into a hunched over ball.

This dream, dream is a killer
gettin' drunk with a blue caterpillar.

Your eyes rolled around while you slept, taking in the scenery in your head. The dreams were coming back again.

(in your dream)

You stepped around, the sole of your feet meeting cold, damp concrete. Your breathing came in short, quiet rasps. Your vision was slightly blurred as you looked around the room. Windowless, concrete, and barren. Not much different from the bunker you were kept in. In one far corner, there was an empty stool, and the wall across it had a door marked "exit."

As you looked over the stool again, a large, voluptuous, plump, worm-like thing sat, facing away from you. You were startled and nearly shrieked, covering your mouth with your hands. You took a step closer to examine the thing. It pulsated rapidly, as if it were breathing heavy, or sobbing. Its skin was slick and moist, tinted a deep blue. It shook a bit before it seemed to take a swing from a large jug. The chemical smelled burned your eyes and nose. You coughed behind your hand, but you still caught it's attention. It turned around halfway, peering at you through one beady black eye. It smiled eerily and turned all the way around. It was a giant, bloated caterpillar. You gagged back vomit, it was disgusting. It seemed to chuckle, but instead of hearing its voice, it seemed to ring throughout your head, it was like a loud audible thought, but much more unnatural. The voice seemed to knock against your skull, infesting your head. You gripped the sides of your head, it was like an audible headache, a parasite. Suddenly, your lungs, your throat, mouth, nose, every opening or cavity in your body was filled with the foul chemical liquid it was drinking. The laughter grew louder, and the more it laughed, the more it sounded like him. You started to shriek, and writhe in agony. It was unbearable. The liquid was everywhere; drowning you from the inside.

You woke up, writhing in agony on the floor in the roses. The thorns stabbed at you, some piercing the skin. The perfume of roses was everywhere; it was overpowering. Instead of being sweet and soft, it was harsh and strong. It made your stomach turn until you heaved, but with no food being eaten, nothing could come up. In the corner, your kidnapper, the monster that started this, got up and swiftly kicked you in the spine.

"Oi, what the hell is wrong with you?! Stop that! Cut it out, dammit!" he spat at you, you were making quite a ruckus and he was trying to sleep. The toe of his boot connected with your spine again, you heard an audible crackling and popping. You screamed louder, the searing pain jumped up and down your spine. Your body went limp, twitching and wiggling feebly now. You faced him for the first time since he took your freedom. Your wet, bloodshot eyes connected with his, searching them for anything. The were dark and empty, no regret, sympathy, not even joy. You thought hurting you would at least make him happy, he seemed like it would. The only thing in those eyes was blank, calm, insanity. He kneeled down and grabbed the roots of your hair, your body still writhing. You spoke directly to him for the very first time.

"Why? Why do you do this?" His face contorted in a combination of shock and exasperation, and a bit of mirth.

"Why? Why? I do it, because I'm bored." He dropped your face into the ground, got up, and simply walked out, muttering about your ridiculous question.

"Pft.Why? She asks 'why.'" He left the bunker up a rusted ladder and locked the vault-like door behind him. You looked after him, and spat out a bit of blood. The tears fell freely now, which they hadn't done in a long time.

I'm peeling
the skin off
my face
'Cause I really
hate being
safe

Many more scenes like that happened. Some less intense, others not so much. You constantly scratched at your skin, it reminded you which reality was real. You were miserable. But you were also angry. He snatched everything away. Your peace, your sanity, your joy. He took you from your friends and family, isolated you. He made you afraid. He took away your freedom. How dare he? What gives him the right to tear apart your life? You hated him. You hated this. You hated everything about this.

The normal, they make me afraid
the crazies, they make me feel sane.
I'm nuts, baby I'm mad
the craziest friend
that you've ever had
You think I'm psycho, you think I'm gone
tell the psychiatrist something is wrong
over the bend, entirely bonkers

She was the fastest to snap. Usually they fight back, try to win, but they never do. They never can. And after they give up, they lose it. Guess that makes her smarter, then. She knew she couldn't win. From the very beginning, she knew it was hopeless. She's definitely farther off the edge than the others were. She's more resilient in that way, I guess. The others would go crazy, and at a certain point, they'd kill themselves. Starve themselves, bash their head against a wall, choke themselves, anything to end it. But she hasn't yet. She can handle it more than them. Hm. Guess I did choose a special one.

You like me best
when I'm off my rocker,
tell you a secret, I'm not alarmed
so what if I'm crazy?
All the best people are.
All the best people are crazy.
all the best people are.

I'm crazy. I know I'm crazy. I'm a maniac, a psycho, totally and entirely mad. I know I am. I'm not scared anymore, though. I can't be. I can't afford it. I can tell he likes how nuts he's making me. It's like he's trying to see how much he can fuck me up. I know he is. I know. The thing about being crazy though, time doesn't exist. Nothing exists but you and your thoughts. That's the scary part. Your mind is in control, your mind takes over. You're the victim of your own head. It's sick. Every single thing that it conjures up, you can't tell if it's real or not, you barely know what real is anymore. You are the monster under your bed, you are what hides in the dark, you are the creature in the closet, you are your worst fear. It's horrible. But I can't do anything about it. So I give up.

Where
is my prescription?

You were stuck in your head again. Usually there was a trick to snapping out of it, scratching yourself, pulling your hair, screaming. Nothing was working. You couldn't find the "off button" on your mind. You couldn't find the key out. You were trapped, for real this time. You couldn't snap out of it. You pulled your hair, scratching your scalp and screaming. He wasn't there to kick you, or slap you, or bash your head into the wall. You couldn't get out.

Doctor, Doctor please listen
my brain
is scattered,
you can be Alice
I'll be the Mad Hatter.

You attacked him as soon as he stepped off the latter. Usually you wouldn't even look at him, let alone touch the monster. You gripped his shirt, pulling hard, screaming in his face.

"HELP ME. I CAN'T DO IT. I CAN'T GET IT OUT OF MY HEAD. IT WON'T STOP." Your words blended in with a wordless screech. You let go of him and tore across the room, straight into a wall, holding your arms. The pain didn't seem to affect you so you did it over and over and over, screaming all the while. He marched over to you, grabbing the back of your shirt, slamming you onto the ground.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Huh? Sit down somewhere and shut the fuck up!" He shouted in your face. Your screaming stopped for a minute, you breathed heavily, eyes darting across the room. You were trembling. You spoke to him again.

"You did this to me. YOU DID THIS. I hope you rot in hell." it was barely a whisper, your eyes still darted around the room. He grunted and went back to his corner, watching you crawl back to your space and fall asleep.


I'm peeling
the skin off
my face
'Cause I really
hate being
safe
The normals, they make me afraid
the crazies, they make me feel sane.

I'm nuts, baby I'm mad
the craziest friend
that you've ever had
You think I'm psycho, you think I'm gone
tell the psychiatrist something is wrong
over the bend, entirely bonkers
You like me best
when I'm off my rocker,

tell you a secret, I'm not alarmed
so what if I'm crazy?
The best people are.

You think Im crazy
You think I'm gone
So what if I'm crazy?
All the best people are.

And I think you're crazy too
I know you're gone
That's probably the reason
that we get along

I'm nuts, baby I'm mad
the craziest friend
that you've ever had
You think I'm psycho, you think I'm gone
tell the psychiatrist something is wrong
over the bend, entirely bonkers
You like me best
when I'm off my rocker,

tell you a secret, I'm not alarmed
so what if I'm crazy?
The best people are.

All the best people are crazy
All the best people are crazy
All the best people are.