Teh Little Green Men have found a place in my head. Teh Little Green Men keep whispering thoughts in my head. Thoughts I would never have though of on my own. Thoughts that are quite disturbing. Thoughts so grotesque, so far-fetched.
Every time I fall in line and see others breaking through the line, teh Little Green Men whispers, "Kill them all. They do not deserve to live." They whisper every time I see someone break the line. Their whispers urging me, making me want to conduct a mass genocide, if at all possible. Just the thought of it makes me sick, but it brings pleasure to me.
Every time I ride the MRT at rush hour, see the swarm of people squeezing their way in, squirming, Teh Little Green Men whispers, "Kill them all. They do not deserve to live." They whisper every time the MRT passes through every station. Their whispers urging me, making me want to conduct a mass genocide, if at all possible. Just the thought of it makes me sick, but it brings pleasure to me.
Every time I ride the jeepney and a little kid with a rug crawls in and wipes the shoes of passengers, Teh Little Green Men whispers, "Kill them all. They do not deserve to live." They whisper every time I see a poor little kid wiping shoes in the jeepney. Their whispers urging me, making me want to conduct a mass genocide, if at all possible. Just the thought of it makes me sick, but it brings pleasure to me.
Every time I see a street family, walking, sitting, or simply lying down the street, Teh Little Green Men whispers, "Kill them all. They do not deserve to live." They whisper every time I see a street family. Their whispers urging me, making me want to conduct a mass genocide, if at all possible. Just the thought of it makes me sick, but it brings pleasure to me.
Every time I see a gang of teens, walking in group, walking arrogantly, Teh Little Green Men whispers, "Kill them all. They do not deserve to live." They whisper every time I pass by a gang of teens. Their whispers urging me, making me want to conduct a mass genocide, if at all possible. Just the thought of it makes me sick, but it brings pleasure to me.
Every time Teh Little Green Men whisper, it makes me sick. Sick of thinking about their disturbing, grotesque and far-fetched thoughts. And yet, these disturbing thoughts, they bring joy, they bring pleasure to me. I want to kill. I want to kill. These people do not deserve to live.
Demit. I think I need to talk to a shrink.
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