/lit/ - Literature

I dreamt that I murdered someone today. I accidentally walked through his front door, expecting Meghan, but she had already moved. I apologized quickly, as his young family stared at me, and I walked back out.
He followed me through the catacombs and down into the docks of the Victorian Thames. He grabbed me and chastised me, asked what my game was, why I'd invaded the privacy of his home, whether I was after his Laura. He thrust me against the wall and punched me hard in the stomach. I've never felt such fear. I could feel my own frailness, like a helium balloon clipped precariously to the ground.

I grabbed his neck and pushed against his windpipe. He fell down and, forcing my knee down onto his throat, I grabbed and rock and beat him to death. A orgasmic wave pulsated through my nerves with each dive and stroke of my arm. And like an orgasm, the ecstasy quickly ebbed into nothingness and as the veil lifted I felt empty as I looked upon the mess I had created. I lifted my gaze from it and fled. All life and living seemed choked by a dark and imperceptible future. I didn't think of his children. Only of myself and the murky shade that spread over his eyes.
If only this was a dream, I thought.
Not such luck, this is all too real.
Then I awoke.

Books for this feel?

I have become a slave to sensation. How do I break out of the hedonist trap? All I do is eat, shit, sleep, jerk off and browse Youtube and this shithole website. I constantly crave crass stimulation - I have ceased to be a personality anymore and am now merely an accumulation of nerve endings. Help me find a way to becoming a person again.

If you say the Bible without being specific I'm going to burgle your house.