rubyallen
The hands holding the heart and my broken crown. I watched them burn like a flame and now they are lost. If I were superstitious it would be a sign, but I am not.
The little hand moved steadily but quickly from 50 to 60 to 70 to 80 and almost to breaking point. My eyes watched that little hand as it moved, the speed increasing with my anger. I wasn't looking at the road anymore and then I wasn't looking at anything at all.
Trapped in the narrow confines of where I am bound to die. I can't see my enemy from where I am buried knee deep in human excrement and horrors I had never imagined from my warm bed at home - but I would happily swim in this muck forever than meet my true fate, a bullet in my skull.
It was covert, our tryst. We were like diamonds glittering in an undiscovered mine. We were never found out. We were beyond remorse. But it was only sex.
These words weren't conjured up with ease, they were whipped like slaves out of my weary mind.
Sentenced to a world of solitude within the marrow surrounding my broken mind.
They're getting louder. A knell. With each knock my death creeps closer. I hope they find me before the rats do.
The red water seeps from my eyes, scratching my cheeks in its brutal downpour. I knew I would weep for my beloved.
The antiquated racket of the modem buzzed and ticked with a static noise which was an unlikely comfort to me. Seconds away was a familiar world and a beautiful array of new information I could absorb. Knowledge is love and whenever the old noise punches my ears I know I will learn something wonderful to fill me with delight.