Floyds fan fiction draft

I drank and drank in disbelief. The blood red wine like silk on the throat. I couldnt help feeling my skull. I know I did it. I blew my brains clear as day. Bullet ripped and fired my meat and flesh. I welcomed nothing I welcomed peace. But here i sit with something. Am I not dead?. Are these torture tactics? Did I survive? Am I locked and secured with beady  eyes observing my every drink and breath? The room glow white released fear and opression into the brain. The room was alien and scentless. It was pure. I woke up here. Id been here days now but I was well aware no time had passsed. This wasnt Europe or earth. Now you see there is an inclining as to my whereabouts but I am in no way going to admit it. To admit is to admit madness. To admit is to admit that I had invested in the wrong bank. My currency of feeling and action was all designed to overcome and control. But here I sit in everything the holy men had explained. Everything I burned to the ground and violently repelled.  If my location be true then so must the man. My name is Adolf Hitler and I am dead. Conciously dead. I remember dieing. I remember nothing. Now this. The third stage. I woke from a dreamless sleep into a pure room. I was waiting alright. I had blood on my hands if not more. I slept in pools of invisible blood. It was all on me. I gave birth to the sin of the century. I bred bombs and barbed wire. I stole youthfull minds from parental love in exchange for killing ants one by one they marched to the tune of my self created zombie disco. I was wicked beyond belief. I never believed. Untill now. People feared the soldiers. Soldiers feared the dictator. The dictators feared nothing. Ever. But I was about to meet the maker of nothing. The maker of everything. Nietsche was wrong God is far from dead. Tho I was alone I knew the interogation had begun. The holy light was questioning me. I questioned me. Like a worm in my heart the lord ate a feast. Death was joyous. Heaven was Hell.