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Internal beasts chatter and whine, stranded on hazy grey clouds of cement inside a bland and milky mind. Beasts that long to roam among the conventional ones, the ones that don’t fade and melt away as thoughts turn into conspiracies, conspiracies into theories and theory into fact. It is these facts that keep one living. Although when you really think about it my facts are merely thoughts exponentially enlarged. These thoughts are restless beasts that run rampant inside a mind, and really who is to trust a rampant beast? I ponder these things often when wading waist deep in the foggy cloud that I call my psyche.  The ones I like to call the ‘conventionals’ appear every so often fleetingly. They are fleeting because they are either attacked by the beasts and left to die in a greasy pool of slick cement or simply ignored by the beasts and slowly fade and wither away into the subconscious, unnourished, helpless. As if they ever stood a chance anyway. But where are the odes, sonnets and stories about the conventional ones? Think not of them, they merely blend and mesh  into everyday workings. How can such a perfect vivid earth who is eternally revolving and creating splashes of neon colour  be content with such grey angular conventionals marching through her. This contrasts greatly to my personal world where against a uncertain disconcerting background beasts of all wondrous hues and tones are free to wander wherever they please. Assessing the workings and beliefs of everything around them always striving for excellence. Thirsty for knowledge. These two worlds simply cannot meet. Could I possibly show the world that my inner workings are overrun with beasts not grey faceless machines?  No. Humans do not understand beasts, they will tame them. Force them to do their bidding until their colours have melted away under the fiery dominance of the sun. This is why (as I put on my suit and tie) I lather myself in conventional  clothing. Creating an image. An image which is completely opposite to what I am in my head. And how should I presume?As I descend the stair, and marvel at the grey masses swirling and twirling in uniform dancing to a band that could feel no melody I awaken to the loneliness that dwells and lingers. I long for a person to share my beasts of burden with. So I don’t feel so desperately departed from everything around me. How I wish to love. Is love a definitive? Can you love someone more than someone else? I mean to say are there degree’s of varying love? Or is love a certain feeling and when someone else isn’t feeling that exact same feeling they cannot be in love? Do we really love our family, or do we just love these people because we are expected to love them and be loved in return. We can never really be sure if someone loves us,  never,  if they feel the same feelings we do. The human mind is an enigma how can I possibly love someone else if I can’t unlock the mysteries of my own brain. I wish for love but I have come to the realisation that it is, in fact, unattainable.A conventional sweeps up the stair and grasps hold of my arm.“Darling you have been up here for an eternity, your missing the best part of the part. The Elliot’s are drunk already and bringing up the time you told that art teacher he was an idiot for not accepting your artwork into the exhibition and then threw red paint all over the walls! You were so full of life back then, do you remember that?”I was so full of life. But back then the plaster wasn’t slowly crumbling off the walls, making the barrier between them and what I knew I had to do fall apart, one flake of plaster at a time. It was a hard pill to swallow.I stared upon the downy fine hair that swept across her neckline. You were once everything my love, the rotation of the planets moved around your every hum and sigh the night would not fold to the luminous essence you illuminated. Now I can only taste the bitter reprise of our last love making and how I scowled at the sun for its late and unseasonable arrival. “Of course dear, I must greet the guests. They have been waiting for my arrival”“Well of course they have been…” She seemed slightly perturbed at my arrogance.She clutched at my hand and marched me downward, and all I could think of was those soft downy hairs resting against her porcelain neck leading to her throat, I hoped she wouldn’t choke on the pill she had to swallow.A mass of  machines suck the air out from the ground floor like a vortex that entangles me into the deep abyss below. Their words are like volcanic ash spitting violently into the air, crash upon me at downfall, I inhale the putrid tar of the ash and now I know what it feels like to hear the scream. Nature is not right. They are oblivious to her torments. Atlantis is about to sink, this is the calm before the storm and I will be damned if I am going down with this ship of fools. They defy change which may pop the delicate bubble surrounding themselves and their artificial world. They do not fear the omnipotent beating of the suns rays, giving them breath into a soulless hollow body but rather call it a busy old fool and continue to ignore and pollute the place that once gave them life. And how should I presume?Silently winding and gliding between fur coats and hors d'oeuvres, I manage to find myself secluded on a capacious balcony white marble glowing beneath my feet, intricate white railings enclose the area. This is my pen. They have exiled me to a cage. The reflection of the sky was mirrored back across body of water that could be seen from where I peered on the white marble where I stood, chained by invisible shackles.  The sky was crimson and the shadows encroaching. The sun tired and weary has lost all hope for humankind and I could do nothing but watch from my bar-less cage as it melted away into the water, setting for the last time forever shrouding the earth in darkness. I believed once that I was the one to shape this place to rebuild to conquer. But I feel nothing for the faceless inside my house. I feel nothing for them, for the hungry, for the poor, for the rich, the lovers, for the sinners. But yet my mind frets and fusses over the reassurance that ‘No darling, the lobsters were not boiled inhumanely to make the hors d'oeuvres, but my don’t they taste delicious?’“The pill.. The pill” I can hear myself murmur, a beastly thought had leapt out my mouth! My stomach churned and shuddered at the unsettling though of accepting the pill inside me, letting it grow and blossom like the branches of a tree until it had enveloped my body. I had mentally nurtured this idea, planning and building the thought in my mind. The thought had to be provoked into action, and this pill will arise to the occasion soon enough.Gazing across the vast lake that has appeared to have greedily swallowed the sun I realised that they would be here soon. Time to make my farewell. I sweep back inside and join in on the mechanical banter dropping cliché’s here, there and wherever necessary.‘Why yes Ariel, last time I saw you, you were “this” high’‘And when I saw you last you were “this” wide” she replied merrily.A tentative silence flew over the circle of robots lingering nearby, the silence knocked them back one by one like violent ripples in a pond of still grey water. They were aware of my power. It was the power of a million eyes watching over their every flimsy move, waiting for them to trip and stumble so it could sink its teeth into their hot human flesh.Ariel was seemingly unaware of this. In a split second her life could be ended at my command because of that comment. In that hanging moment I chose to let her live, I after all would never have to see that silly tramp again anyway. ‘Ariel my dear.. I think it is wise to think carefully before you speak to your elders in such a tone’ I gave her a smile, bearing my teeth a little more than I should.I walked away briskly smiling to myself that tonight Ariel would be informed of the mistake she has made and would have to live with that plundering embarrassment for the rest of her foolish little life.I motioned to my newlywed wife, this time ascending the staircase to the study. The pills in my pocket were eager to jump into my hand, ready to be swallowed.“We are doing the right thing, aren’t we Adolf?’ Eva’s voice was shaking as I shut the door to the study.“It is the only thing left for us to do.”