colmsewell
Should I row or should I wade? It's a difficult debate, but a necessary one if you want to cross the river.
It was never clear, broken orange petals, crushed like ashes in my hands. Everything tasted like dust, blood dribbled from my nose as I fell asleep. Morning came with a headache and a regret.
Haha... Could've expected it, but I didn't. Usually it works out this way, in a bathroom with a handful of tissues, scraping away. Keep going. Yes. The energy in this room could burn a small nation to a wasteland.
Daaaaaarlin'? Yes? Would you have a spare cigarette, per chance? Why certainly... Also, how would you care for a little bit of magic. That's how the conversation went before she pulled the baggie from her plaid coat. A claustrophobic design. Wall to wall stripy
Get in and drive away from the concrete cracks. Leave the dead children, deformed men with begging bowls, crying, heroin addicted teens, pregnant alcoholics. Enjoy paradise.
Remember when death followed me for all summer? As I got up in the morning, and brushed my teeth it stared out the fogged up glass at me. As I walked by myself down each lonely street, it was never more than a few yards away. Breathing down my neck and swearing it would make me it's own. Then one day I rang for you, and they said you were dead. Dead. So I went outside and had a bit of a cigarette. Wishing I didn't know what dead was.
Fooken minted prick he fucken waz. Piece of cack wi two fooking bahrooms an a jackooooozi. I damn near shat meself on the lock wi'hem.
The great canteen free for all, the vast assembly line of genitals, narcotics and dubstep. The decorative inessentials of a nihilistic generation. The first truly nihilistic generation. The casualties of the sexual revolution and rock n'roll. "We are victims of our own affluence" he said.
Tired and dry. Drinking wine, I hear singing out my window. I hear something squealing, singing and singing under the moon and the orange blowing out of the horizon. Singing and drinking wine. Singing and singing and singing. Birds maybe, something definitely. I wish I could go there.
Remember when you told me, that all you wanted from me was someone to love, someone to raise a family with, someone to grow old and die together with. Yes? Well, tonight's you're night, baby. She hit him with a frozen steak, breaking in into over his bloodied head, he fell into a heap with twisted pretzel limbs. She'd have to cook and eat the evidence.
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writing since 2011 · 59 entries · 57 days shown up
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eyesrollingdeadsinginglovewavesfuckingredheadwhiskeydeathcigarettetiredmorninghairblood