From the Journal of Walter Joseph Kovacs
October 25th, 1985
Shackled with the pedophiles and junkies. The smell of depravity taints every painful breath till there’s no room for sanity. A cool sting of self-loathing permeates empty spaces and cuts down unknowingly atop the heads of rapists and thieves alike. No room for clean structure, organized chaos rules this forsaken den of human decay. Feces and vomit abound, these mongrels abandoned any notion of tangible salvation long ago in favor of one quick, mean jerk of the noose. Cowards in they’re most distilled form, they crawl on hand and knee like vermin before the axe falls, knowing no other way but to roll around in they’re own diseased filth until it consumes them from the outside in.
Nesting in the center of this waste, the wheezing and out of shape hypocrites in tiny blue hats. Catalysts, nestled cozy between the false bosom of superiority and perversion, they are no better than the criminals they oversee. Commissioned by the zoo then bribed by the animals, they’re paid twice to do nothing. A turn of the head, eyes blank from meaning or thought. Only thing that separates them from the caged is a uniform. Only thing saving them from the cage is a badge.
Waist deep in irony, wading through the sewage while the muck is rising. Every second is a reason and its become clear. I don’t belong here. This grim population would see me dead within the hour. Much to the chagrin of the writhing maggots infesting this glorified carcass, I will walk out by months end.
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