"What makes you think I'm insane?" he posed, tilting his head curiously as he smiled wider. The grotesquely huge grin reflected off the metallic blade he held, cocked sideways like a cobra, prepared to strike. "Do you believe this is insanity?" his voice hinted at his own enjoyment of his words, "That I am insane? You know nothing," anger graced his face for a moment, then composure ensued as he finished, "of insanity my friend. All you see is imagination run wild!"
"Insanity...it is little more than those who are freed from their minds...but bound by their bodies. Discarded by society, they wander freely, beyond their legs and skin." Lifting the knife up, only his eyes were reflected in the dim moonlight as he let the blade rise closer to his lips. "The insane are more free than you or I could ever hope to be. My dear, what I wish to do to you is a gift. I want to free your spirit so you too can wander, unhindered, into the abyss you consider insanity."
Grinning, he lifted his arm as he spoke one last time, "You wanted to be an artist...and I shall offer you more inspiration than you could imagine!"
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