Spirits came to live in me. The bad sort, that is. The very bad sort. Bad spirits. Malignant spirits. Evil spirits. They came to take up residence, like a crowd of burnt-out old crack-heads gathering together in a disused house. With the roof falling in and the smell of piss everywhere. They talk to each other but what they say doesn’t make sense. They are deteriorated – like wet-brain alcoholics who can no longer put words together. They want to talk – out of pure habit, out of pure reflex – but they can’t do it. And even if they could do it they no longer have anything to say…

They are full of malice, these evil spirits. Full up to the brim with malice. Full with seething, bubbling, pointless, malice – malice about nothing in particular. Like their speech, their malice is misdirected and incoherent. They don’t have any choice in the matter. That’s just the way they are – they are deteriorated. They carry on in their deteriorated way all the time. That’s what they do. That’s all they can do. They can’t sink any lower; they are the lowest of the low. They are just vehicles for malice; they are just conduits for pure, sheer, unadulterated, corrosive evil…

And they want me to become one of them! They keep inviting me to become one of them. To join the party. Become one of the gang. Part of me actually wants to. Part of me likes the idea! Part of me is excited by the idea – that’s the part that has already been taken over by the motley rabble of evil spirits that live inside me. The part that has been contaminated. Contaminated by their filthy presence within me…

Who am I kidding? It’s not part of me, it’s most of me. And soon it’s going to be all of me. I’m going to join that party, the party that’s going on in my head. It’s a forgone conclusion – I don’t have the strength to resist. Soon, I’m going to be partying – partying with the deteriorated personality-husks that have taken up their unclean residence in me. Soon, there’s going to be no difference between me and them….