Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Four Short Lives
"I load a silver, metallic bullet unto a gun as I stood in front of the mirror and raised it to my temple. The nozzle was cold just as the sweat that started to trickle down my hair, my cheeks then to my neck. The thought was so tempting as my finger found the trigger; one move was all it would take, a slip of the hand, a sudden pulse, a conscious thought. It would be so easy to pull, to release, to bleed then ultimately die. My mind ran thoughts in black and white, like a film about my timely death as I stared at the man behind the mirror, who was smiling back at me; eager to die. I think again and decided to put down the gun but as I did, the man behind the mirror didn't. He only smiled."
"Her body was lifeless. She was floating on water. People would think she had drowned but she hasn't. She jerks her head up and gasps for air and curses for she still lived. The clear blue water would be such a calm escape for her turbulent reality of love, rejection -- life. She wanted the calmness of ocean to silence her constant screams of anguish, muffled by her tear-soaked pillows every night. Her scream would not be hear amidst the deep blue of water, it would fill her lungs and render her dead, unable to speak -- or scream -- any longer. A deep blue dream."
"A streak of crimson across his wrist was all it would take. Love had made him warm and rejection had made his blood cold. His heart was of stone and lead, black as coal, hardened like steel. He swore to never love but broke his promise. He swore to never love again but broke his promise and it left him with no one but himself and a new scar across his heart, etched forever in stone like the words on a gravestone. He seeks to never feel, to never feel the blood in his veins rush through him as he blushed to his lover, as he held her hand, or as his lips touched hers, to never again feel the warmth of his lifeline flow through him in another futile endeavor to find someone true. Knife in hand, he cuts his wrists and feels the warm blood rush out of him and dips his hand in cold water to numb the feeling of warmth. Finally, he sleeps -- cold"
"Television was on, she sat on a chair. It was friday night, she brought out the chips. No light in the room, no one was there to see. The power went out, everything turned black. She hears voices, but no one was there. A crash she heard, her heart starts to skip. She hears the snicker of wolves, men inside her home. A slap across her face, she didn't see it coming. She felt hands violate her, she began to cry. Her screams echoed in the dark, no one heard her. Her tears stained the floor, darkness kept them hidden. The men laughed, she couldn't count how many. She felt their lust, like animals in a frenzy. After they had their way, they all circled around her and beat her like a bitch. Her bone snapped, her muscles were bruised, her time was up, she was crying all the while. She wakes up, it was all a dream, in front of the TV, she must have fallen asleep. She hears them laughing, she felt the pain, she wanted to run but towards where? There was no light in her home, no guiding way. The power went out, that's all I have to say."
Just a few thoughts during the day...
Riding the Lightning
4:18 PM
