angstyteenager
This Saturday is going to suck. I'll eat to much, get fat, drool on my pillow, and get nothing done. Then Sunday will come and suck even more. And then Monday will come- and why am I so angsty?
Our wings take flight.
Towards the sky, past the horizon. They get lost to found what does not exist.
Feathers left behind are the trail to our enemies.
But they cannot reach us, we are so far above them.
<3
One step forward and I'm almost there.
The turtle stands behind me, haunted by the hare: his steps will be remembered.
Will mine?
Doubtful.
But I take them anyway.
My feet guide me to the end, and it's almost here.
The light grows brighter every second... and I can't hold on anymore.
I'm amused. Truly.
The way the pen falls to the ground and skitters through the house. It's brilliant.
Ten simple words.
I killed you, I hope you like that myself. Love.
And then I die.
Fall to the floor, hands curl slightly, and I've never been more amused.
The band plays with sparks in their eyes. The drummer's too thin, the singer's got scars on her mouth, and the guitarist has obnoxious goggles over his eyes.
The crowd screams in awe with their glue sticks.
But they don't understand.
"Perhaps," says the singer, "If we spray them with our favorite kandy, they'll understand the band."
Thunder hits my eardrums.
Blankly, I think back of a time from nearly yesterday, when I wrote of lightning.
Is this thunder's wrath for my ignorance?
Surely this will be an untimely end. Hindered by the fury and madness of noise until my eardrums come to an untimely end.
Pigeons stumble through the lightning in a stampede.
Crash. One falls to the floor.
Two. Heads roll.
The massacre of pigeons is thunder.
Water downpours my head and I cry.
Stop dying. Stop dying.
And the birds coo.
Coo. Coo. Coo.