DarlingTone
The rusted blue jeans that he used to wear hang wearily. Draped loosely they cry, for they know they shall never be worn again. None shall see them. None shall hold them. None slide through their feelings. Nothing is held here for them, and so they drift off and on.
They squeezed the juice into my open eyes, the acidic liquid dripping and burning. I struggled, but could not move, and now, could not see. They begin kicking me relentlessly. I guess that's what happens when you head down dark alleyways drunkenly singing about lemon curds.
Get up. Go out. Walk about. Sit down. Feast on food. Get up. Walk about. Go in. Lie down. Sleep peacefully. Get up. Go out. Walk about. Sit down. Feast on food. Get up. Walk about. Go in. Lie down. Sleep peacefully. Get up. Go out. Walk about. Sit down. Feast on food. Get up. Walk about. Go in. Lie down. Sleep peacefully.
She stifles a scream and turns to run. The floor flies beneath her feet as she flees as fast as she ever could.
I...what... Uhhh...