Ballroom. By Mark Gaviglio

Sitting in a ballroom, I’m looking up at the crystal chandelier. I’m thinking I weigh about a hundred sixty pounds, and I wonder the strength of the chandelier. If I take a knife and murder of the groom, the best man, and the wife’s impotent father, could I tie their neck ties together and sufficiently hang myself from the chandelier? I would think a ceiling joist can hold about two hundred pounds. But how much would a crystal chandelier weigh?

More importantly should I block the door and force all the piece of shit family members, and the cum gargling wife to watch my death? So she is forced to watch the lives that she played like puppets for so long end violently on her wedding day. The husband she wishes to drain of money, the best man that had his cock in her ass no more than twenty minutes ago, the dad that polished his turd of a daughter for the rest of the world to see, and me.

Better yet I should take the knife with me and right before I hang myself I slash a large opening in my waist and have all my guts pour out on to the floor. People slipping on my organs as they try to escape. People vomiting on each other. The air will be filled with the sounds of screams, the wet pounding sounds of puke hitting the floor, and people gasping for air. The only thing heard over these sounds would be the sound of my laughter.

These thoughts please me. The thoughts of killing worthless people and ruining the soul of another make me smile. The bride would never be able to recover from the metal trauma. She wouldn’t be able to love. every time she would start to care for someone her mind would flashback to this day. She would picture her new love slaughtered and covered in guts.

The reception center this wedding is held in would probably need to shut down. The smell would never leave the room. After stopping and think about this room, I realize, it’s a very pretty room. And the ushers were very pleasant. They helped me find a nice parking spot and took my jacket. The girl at the front door was very polite as well. She complimented my hair. I made a witty joke and she laughed.

I think these are just mad thoughts and I should never birth them. I wouldn’t want to ruin the girl at the front door’s day. I look back at the bride and groom. The brides face is so plastic. She has a face only money can buy. I would love to chop off that pretty smile. I could sew her face on to mine so I could have an expressionless mask for a face like she does. I could tie her groom down wile wearing her face and sodomize him like she would. I could remove his balls like she would. I could hang him from his feet with hooks to drain the blood from him, like she would.

The fucking groom. You’d think he would rape a child if there was a steady salary to it. He is a dominatrix loving sodomite. He hides behind his façade of Christian morals and a silk tie. He is the type of guy you see in the showers of country clubs with large welts and burns on his back. Welts made from leather whips. Burns made by candle wax.

They all don’t deserve life. I wonder what kind of food will be at the reception.

Gag. By Mark Gaviglio.

Your moving awkwardly in your chair. Tour stomach screaming. You know your lawyer hears it, but that doesn’t matter. Anyone can hear it if they wish. They won’t know it’s purpose. The true reason your guts are screaming.

You look across the court room to your ex-wife. She’s trying to get of your precious fucking money. She has the house, the cars, and the kids. Now the bloodless cunt wants more.

It’s your money. It’s not her money.

Cunt.

Both of your hands holding your belly. Your guts still screaming. Your face starts to uncontrollably contort. Still squirming and wiggling in your chair. Thinking about your money.

Your wife brought the kids. The kids sitting behind your wife. The kids holding each others hands. The kids as greedy as the wife. The kids are just the lioness’s cubs. The cubs waiting for the pray to fall. Your money spilling out of your guts as the predators feats on it.

It’s your money. It’s not their money.

Your lawyer looks at you as you twist. He asks you’d your okay. Although you stomach has you in pain, you let him know that everything will be fine.

Now your stomach is the only sound you can hear. The judge asks you a question.
You see his mouth move. You feel the sound. You can’t hear the words. Muffled sounds.

You look back at your wife. She catches eyes with you. Her young predator face. So Pretty but so deadly. She will never gets your guts now. You have them.

Your guts are fine. All your hard earned guts. The Predators claws are useless.

You had to drink water to get it all down.

It’s your money. Not her money.

Your lawyer looks at you. Your vision now blurry. He speaks. All you hear is your money. Your money is screaming.

It’s your guts. Not their guts.

You sway back and forth. You don’t answer the judge. The court starts an uproar. People start shaking you. What do they want? Do they want your guts? The judge? Your lawyer? The cunt’s lawyer? The cubs? They all want your guts! Your money still hurting you from the inside.

It took water to swallow it all. It’s all yours. Fucking predators.

Finally you double over. Fall to your knees. Start puking. The court in awe. The uproar gets louder. Louder.

Your guts come out of you. You no longer have your money. Your money comes out of you. On the floor. Your money covered in blood and stomach acid. You tried to keep it for yourself. Now you lost it. The cunt licks her lips at the sight of your regurgitated money. Your guts. You lost it.

It took water to get it all down. Now it’s up.

W. Page. By Mark Gaviglio

I’m sitting in a train without a destination. This train is painted black, and my thoughts are no longer pure. I got on this train when I was still a kid, and ever since I’ve been on this train I’ve had no regrets. My face has grown scarred and lifeless. My eyes have grown black and my heart is long gone.

All I do on this train is stare out the window as it passes by a landscape of fire and chaos. This day is different; today I’m starring out the train window at the most stunningly amazing sight. I see a purple pony. In mist of the rage and anger I usually see out this window I see a pony. Not just any pony, this pony is most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.

This pony is prancing like an angel through the countryside. Regardless of the chaos in the fields, this pony moves untouched over the chaos. Soaring unaffected by the fire, the screams, and the pain.

I can’t help but smile as I watch this being of love. This pony is so pure and full of life in the middle of my countryside of hate. My smile grows and tears come to my eyes. These tears are the first glimpse of life I have shown since I got on this black train. The black hole that used to be my heart starts to shutter and pulse. I get a feeling of release as my heart reforms in my chest and starts beating again.

The pony starts to glow with white light, exposing the life I forgot. The sky turns from jet black to a beautiful blue. The tears now fall from off my face, as my fist clench tight. I start to mumble to myself, but I can’t form any words. The sight of beautiful life makes my own life spark back into me.

After the skies clear, the landscapes turn from chaos to green fields of life. I see skin fall in my lap. I feel my face as the scares fall off of me. The reflection in the window shows me my face. For the first time since I got on the train I can see signs of youth and emotion in my face. The train starts to slowly turn from black to white. My face starts to hurt from my smile. The painful smile is the first pain I’ve felt in a long time, but it’s the best pain there can ever be.

The train comes to a stop as the pony stands on the tracks in its way. I stand up wondering if this could finally be my stop. I wonder if something so pure and wonderful could really be here for me.

I step off my white train and I look into the breathtaking landscape. This landscape is so full of life. I walk to the front of the train to see the pony, the beautiful purple magical-beast.

As I walk towards the pony I hear the scream. The worst sound I have ever heard. The sound makes my heart explode in my chest. My tears of joy turn to black ink. The landscape turns back to chaos. The sky turns back to black. My fingernails turn yellow and crack. I drop to my knees. I start to crawl alongside the train as I feel all the life in me disappear again.

My knees start to bleed as I crawl. I make it to the front of the train only to find my only source of joy and purity lying in a pool of blood. The pony is lifeless. Someone did it. Someone was so jealous of the good in the pony that it brought then it kill her. The person killed the only thing that could have saved me from my own endless ride through fire and chaos. This little emperor strangled the life out of the only beautiful thing in my world.

I find myself back on the train. The train is black again and so is the sky.

The climb. By Mark Gaviglio

“I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones.” -Albert Einstein

We are hunters and we are gatherers. We are not leaders. We are equal men. Every man works for themselves to feed their village and family. If you expect to live off someone else and not work, you will leave the village, and if you don’t leave, the village will move you. We are kind, we all make and enforce the rules of the village, and the only motivation for having rules is safety, not greed. We don’t have time for greed.

Today I will see the world as I know it. I will see every part of the land I will ever need to see. Today I am a man. I will climb the tower of the gods and look down at the land. The land my father hunted and the land I will hunt. My father made this climb, as did the other men and some women in my village.

My day starts before the sun comes up. I pack last night’s harvest into my bag. Before I leave I have a talk with my father. We share a drink, a special drink that every man has shared with they’re father. I start my walk to the tower alone. As I reach the base of the tower the sun is now in the sky.

The tower scrapes the sky, and touches the sun. The gods built it, many worlds ago. It is the last part of the great civilization. We don’t know much about the great civilization, all we know is what we can assume by the one relic they left behind. We know that they must have been gods, and that they must have been powerful.

The tower is cold and wet. It is hallow most of the way up it, then halfway up the tower It’s filled with a maze of empty rooms. The at the top there is nothing but a needle poking the sky. Standing at the bottom is very threatening. Looking up at the tower of the gods, is like looking at a proud man that is not afraid of death. Soon nether will I.

Before I start my climb I drink some water and snack on jerky. I tell myself I’m ready to become a man. The bottom of the tower is covered in vegetation, Each step I get further and further away from earth.

Some say the great civilization was a lot like us, that they believed in equality and love. They must have, if they were so powerful they must have been a perfect civilization. They learned just as we have that greed and lust gets a person everything, but the people nothing. Greed and lust are impulses our people don’t act on. One powerful person ruling everything gets everyone nothing.

The vegetation is wet and slippery. I’m trying not to be afraid. My mind is clear, and nothing is in my thoughts but the thought of reaching the top. The sun moves across the sky. I haven’t rested. The sun is now directly above me. My throat is dry. I need a drink of water. I find a sturdy beam of steel to hold on to. I reach down to my water. I grab my canteen, I need that water. It slips out of my hand, and falls down to earth. I cant move to catch it in possibility of falling. My hand must have been wet from the vegetation. I feel like I failed. I need to reach the half way point so I can rest.

Birds! Just birds. I’m certain I will fail. Pecking at me. This is torture! The only way I can escape the birds tearing at me is if I can reach the rest area, but I can barley climb with these birds. The birds have torn off my bag of food. I’m am certain I have failed.

I reach flat floor. It feels like salvation. I pull myself up and collapse. I’m laying on the floor gasping for air. A bird lands on my chest, I grab it. I bite through it’s chest. I hold it with two hands as I drink it’s warm blood. It’s not satisfying. I feel it’s heart beat against my teeth. I know the worst is behind me. Now all I need to do is walk the rest. My belly is empty and my mind is screaming.

I enter the maze of stairs and holes in the ceiling. It’s dark and cold in here. The only bit of light I see is through holes and cracks in the wall. Every floor I climb through I think it’s going to be the last. I am a fool. I want nothing but to prove myself as a man. I find random insects feasting on the dieing structure. I feast on the insects.

I get to a Large hole in the wall. I look up at the sky. The sun is almost down. I collapse to my knees. I decide its time to sleep. The thought was seemed like a great idea. But in reality I could barley find sleep. With very little food in my stomach and thoughts of failure in my mind, it took a long time to get to sleep.

I wake up lost. Where am I? My starvation reminds me of my whereabouts. My body doesn’t want to move. I feel like I am pinned down. It feels like my mind is awake but my body is not. I need water. I need food. I must move on.

I make it to my feet. I’m to dizzy to move on but I got no choice. I need to decide how to continue to the top. I can keep going though the maze, but it’s taking to long. Or I can climb from the outside, it couldn’t be much further.

My muscles are sore. My arms shakes as I reach for the next crevasse. The sun is burning my skin. My mouth is dry. I can’t imagine a greater hell. The vegetation is no longer lining the tower at this elevation. The only things to grab a hold of are sharp crevasses and beams. I come across a gathering of bird nests. I feast on a few eggs, It is not satisfying.

When the sun is directly above me I start to finally reach the top. I was told the top of the tower was once a great piece of art, that slowly ascends from it original boxy shape, to an eventual needle. Though now it is just a hollow shell of it’s former brilliant self.

I climb to the point I can’t climb anymore. I turn and look at the land. The island. The only land I know and the only land I ever need to know. I feel like the gods that made the tower. I try not to think about the way back down, I only think about how I succeeded, how I am a man.

Deviod. by Mark Gaviglio

Expressions tell you a lot about someone. More so when that is all you know. You can't hear them. and you don't know them. All you know is the face.

I've lost myself. I had a job once. But I slowly stopped caring about stuff. Now I sit in my room. I've been leaning against my wall. The sweat has almost glued me in place. I can't reach my hammer. I use it to take notes in the wall. The notes remind me of the ways I do things. And why I'm in my house.

I'm the last real human left in this shit world. Coming to realize that made me depressed, but at the same time gave me a breath of self satisfaction.I watch all the fucked up humans out my window. I watch them as they follow their set plans. Always with the same plans. Everyday. thinking the be humane is human.

How can they live like such fucking slaves?! They ignore all feeling and real thought. It's the only way they can continue living the way they do. They know it's hard to get up to go to work if your conscious about it. So they choose to be mindless.

My notes tell me of the slaves' routines. I write my notes in haiku form. Doing so helps me concentrate.

Man in the red tie

with no emotions in eyes

to his wife he lies

I saw the man in the red tie outside fucking a teenage whore in his car. Then he walked in his house and kissed his wife. Devoid of all guilt, too worried about lust to care anymore. Worthless piece of shit doesn't know what he has. I strangled him with his tie.

The kind old couple

Jerking off to their happiness

Reminds me of youth

I saw a happy elderly couple out my window sitting on a bench. They talked for hours with smiles on their faces. the happiness I saw them show was so rare I needed to cherish the moment by masturbating to it. Such emotions are rare to come by. It reminds me of blissful youth.

You don't deserve hands

hitting such a pretty girl

her beauty is gone

In a motel room I saw a younger man beat his daughter. I beat him to death with my hammer. The girl now lives with her mother. I follow her around somedays to protect her. Her dad still smells.

I need some water

I forgot to pay the bill

don't have thoughts to steal

I'm out of money. Killed the land lord. He was an emotionless fuck. He didn't beg for is life. I felt happy when he started to cry. I finally brought life in him before he died. He didn't thank me.

Man tried to rob me

he chocked to death on teeth

a victimless crime

When you try to steal from me, you reduce me down to nothing. You act as though all my work was to feed your life. I am not your slave. The man lost touch with all human thought. Only becoming a being of energy use.

I'm not moving from my spot here on the wall. I like it here.