Step Into A Madman’s Room

 Step into a madman’s room.

He sits there,

lost in his own body for a while.

Lights a cigarette.

Pours Blenders Pride

straight down his throat.

The burn doesn’t stop him.

He walks to the toilet,

stands there too long—

even that feels meaningless.

Something in his body

doesn’t sit right.

He wipes himself

like he’s trying to become

someone else.

He lies on the bed.

On the table—

Travis Bickle

writing in his diary.

Beside him—

Tyler Durden

cutting film reels.

Both busy

with their own nonsense.

They don’t know

how much this man is suffering.

The madman gets up,

walks into them,

sits down.

Lights another cigarette.

Tyler takes it from his hand.

Travis keeps writing.

The madman brings a bottle,

three glasses,

ice, water.

Pours for them.

Pours for himself.

Silence sits on the table

like a fourth man.

Tyler sips.

Travis gulps.

The madman watches.

Then Travis places

a .44 Magnum on the table.

Metal glints

under the dim light.

The madman stares at it

like it understands him.

“Cabby… how is Betsy?”

he asks.

No answer.

“Durden… how’s the narrator living?”

Tyler smirks—

“Lost him years ago.

Maybe he’s still breathing somewhere…

with Marla.”

Silence again.

The madman picks up the gun.

Studies it.

Then—

a shot.

Travis collapses.

Blood spills into the glass.

Tyler keeps smoking.

Glitching… fading.

“What do you do with yourself?”

Tyler asks.

The madman laughs softly.

“I live with ghosts,” he says.

“They come at night.

They don’t leave.”

A pause.

“I do what you do…

just differently.”

Tyler disappears.

The madman doesn’t notice.

He keeps talking

to empty air.

Glass after glass.

Words after words.

On the radio—

Jeff Buckley

keeps singing.

Unbothered.

Endless.

The madman looks around.

One cigarette left.

He shouts—

“You stole my cigarettes!”

No one answers.

Jeff Buckley keeps singing.

The room tilts.

His body gives in.

He falls on the bed,

half-singing,

half-breathing—

*“29 pearls…”*

The voice continues.

The night stretches.

The song doesn’t end.

The madman

slowly drifts

into the abyss.