lostinthestorm68
Substance abuse. How immune I once felt to it. I always considered myself to be one of the strongs, someone who was innately resistant to the temptations of the world. How wrong I was. Substances fill you, they inundate you. You're complete, finally.
Why would a complete work seek to be incomplete once again?
The horses dance, a dumb dance. A dance for the fools. The fools rejoice at the dancing horses. The hooves patter on the soft grass, the sky twinkles a diddly tune. The fools dance a foolish dance. m
I miss pushing my grandmother in her wheelchair.
I'd ride it so fast, she'd shriek. She was adorable.
I wish she'd stop passing away in my nightmares.
Freezer.
Freeze her.
The freezer isn't running.
The freezer is frozen.
Overwrought with apprehension, she looked up to see the ECG that was tracking her father's heart activity. Her father, the man she had grown to love and hate over the years they had known each other. Her father, the man who had supported her dreams but also reprimanded her ceaselessly for her shortcomings.
Her father, the man who was so very sick, the man who was going to abandon her, just like her mother had a few years ago.
Enthralled, she gazed at the ECG monitor.
It was tracking her father's heart activity. It was tracking when his life would end, it was tracking when her life would end.
I'm listless.
My nails dig trenches into the pale skin of my wrists.
A buzz commences inside the labyrinths of the brain.
I lie flat on the bed. The ceiling above is white.
Like the noise I hear when I wake every morning
And the noise I hear when I try to fall asleep in the late hours of the night
Or rather, the early hours of morn.
Do I really want to cease breathing?
In the brief hours between dawn and dark
An odious snarky chimera lurks
A bleating monster huffs and puffs
Mists of black powder, wanderlust
A sinister hound walks the turf
These are the creatures
Of the dark
They lark
They know exactly what you are
And they're coming for you.
Men moved about, panic was palpable in the air.
Some were positioning, some were dead.
Some were praying, some were crying.
Some were bold, some were smiling.
Fire, fury, cacophony
The crossfire had just begun.
Her eyes widened. What she saw shocked every fiber of her being. The green haired man had plunged an axe into her father's head and was now dragging his bloody body around the living room, the wooden handle of the heavy ax firmly held in his blood soaked hands. She retched.
She shouldn't have left....She shouldn't have left daddy alone in this shady apartment, unguarded, to defend himself with his bony limbs.
But how could she have known beforehand?
Her eyes rolled and she fell to the floor.
Her love for him leveled with his indifference to her.
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