augustblackwell

augustblackwell

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"I am the filthy, slithering animal you though you could break." She whispers slowly now. The blood is pooling on the floor. "You're my example to the rest of 'em..." His pistol is now back inside his coat.

She is indecisive abouft this situation. The nurtured hand grasping the cold table is an the result of his warm gift. "Knowing you were there is good enough", she's speaking softer, slower. The blood is pooling on the floor. "I told you not to go through with this." His response is quicker than her arm.

There is nothing left, just the message of immobility. For you, madame, all we we exist for is the feeling of control. At least we were. Remember that the revolver will always run out.

cheap

I am not envious, I am not dissatisfied. I am only assured. That the love hasn't been mired by the constant flow of these cheap arguments for reason.

The hand is outstretched, it's touching the other. I feel you want to reach out to me. but my hands are clasped together. Maybe, it's because I'm thinking. Or Maybe, it's because, we need to hide the revolver. Either way, take it off the table.

writing since 1969 · 67,236 entries · 183 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means justjoe showed up.

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on this day 17 years ago

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