The Mind of a Criminal (Monologue)

a writing by Skye Kerri- Leigh Bagshaw

I was thinking about those criminals today. About why they do their crimes. They maybe don't enjoy people suffering, but they enjoy breaking routine. The numbness of repetition is rate boring. Mebbe they wanna find excitement. Makes sense as they can sing.

(Pause. Moves thumb and looks like she is deep in thought)

Singers can sing because they hear more than everyone else. Mebbe. It makes sense. Deaf people can't talk normally. Criminals could have an extra sense. Wow. They hear what they think and follow what they want. Instinct. Wise.

(Pause. Moves each finger quickly)

Got an award for work in me community. Didn't deserve it. Like I didn't deserve my degree, but I still got it. That kind of stuff- poncy, well done stuff- is all fake. So not me, yeah. Feeling bad is me. Guilt. Real and happening. Struggle. Gets you in the zone an' all fired up. What's boredom? You get me bored, forget it. I fade out, in it? Leave. The perfect escape. Yeah.


I wanted to show them I could function without me money. Payin' seems so smug. Middle class, right? Makes me thinking who's that ponce? Didn't wanna be all like that. No man. Never. Wan'ed to show I could do without me money. Stealing has skill. Not easy, like payin' for it. I get that rush man. Doin summat "bad." Way I see, you nick somethin' for a purpose so it's not bad bro. Not wastin' it. Far as I see, people you nick off should be happy.


'Magine i I end up in prison. Man, I'd love it. It'd be what I deserve and no one would be pretending like this was for a greater purpose. Yeah. Everybody works so hard, in it, to feel safe and secure. Blah blah. Borin'. No way challengin'enough. Feel the same about handwritin'. Rather it be scruffy and large right, like mine, not small and so neat. Not real man. Nah to blue or coloured ink. What is happ'nin to the world? Feel black. Me black mind and heart. Abstract art. Breaks rules. Over the lines. No limits, yeah. And mess. Need it. Those OTT houses, all neat to the square inch, makes me go all cold, in it. I wanna shout "get a life," yeah. In me house I drop me things and feel more... I dunno. Relaxed, nah, that's like a hypocrite. Mebbe relaxed because it's destructive right, the area, more normal to me.


Just don't wanna be like everyone else, yeah. Wanna be out that touchy box, find my own level. Feel what I wanna feel, not what them people say I should feel. Or want to feel. Wanna break the rules. Yeah. Sing. Guess me minds the mind of a criminal.

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