nero860
01-21-2012, 11:20 PM
Crack.
I look at my guitar, as she lays dead on the floor of my living room, sprawled out like a poor little canary who has just been shot down by a little bastard and his new toy sling shot. I feel something eating away at my stomach, rage. My eyes slowly work their way up from my departed guitar, Kiddy, to those demons preppy feet. Her pink all star Converse make me want to shove a brick down her throat. My eyes regretfully scan up her legs as I begin to ponder as to what horrid heartless soul would destroy such a beautiful and heavenly work of art. Faded blue skinny jeans, Hollister belt, sickening pink polo shirt, emo style hair, cherry red lips, heavy eyeliner, ignorant deep blue eyes. Add all of this up, and you get Willow. My soon to be departed girlfriend.
Slap.
Her hand violently whips across my innocent face. She starts screaming words of jealousy and rage, punishing me for having a very intellectual conversation with my best friend Secret. That little hooker actually had the nerve to go through my phone and read my messages. I squeeze my fist, attempting to calm my calamic rage. My mind fills with things I only wish I could make true. But I know if I attempt to bring my demented wishes to life, I would inevitably dig my own grave. Still screaming, still jealous with rage filling her soul. Oh god when will this end? Why can’t she just leave me to morn my loss?
Thug.
She places her hands on my chest. She hatefully starts to apply pressure, forcefully sending me back into the wall. I slump down onto the floor. Instinctively my hands move up and start to caress my throbbing head, which is now only filled with a darkness so dark that if put onto paper it would make white cry. Suddenly my leg informs me of a newly founded wound by sending me a jolt of shock up throughout my body. I look down to find that a shard of Kiddy sliced through my right thigh. I look up at Willow. She looks down at me, emotionless. She is taunting me, convincing me to pull it out. My logical mind refuses. But the hell rising inside of me forces acceptance.
Splatter.
My right hand shoots out with the shard, splattering blood onto the hardwood floor. A tear attempts to escape my eye. But I violently rip it apart, keeping it from showing any weakness. I grasp the shard in my hand. I look at it, then look at Willow. She looks at me in shock and fear. She takes a step back. I stagger onto my feet. I am no longer in rage. I am no longer in pain. I am no longer me.
Step.
I stagger towards her, my arms open and forgiving. She starts to cry. She comes and embraces my forgiving chest as if I was one of the lost and dead who came back to life. I embrace her as I would a daughter who has just killed the love of my life. And so she shall be punished as one.
Thump.
I can feel her heart beat on my chest as my left arm wraps around her. It annoys me. My right arm comes up, poking the shard gently into her tummy. She slowly looks up at me hoping for mercy. I look into her eyes; I see fear deepen into her soul. I smile.
Inhale.
I look at my guitar, as she lays dead on the floor of my living room, sprawled out like a poor little canary who has just been shot down by a little bastard and his new toy sling shot. I feel something eating away at my stomach, rage. My eyes slowly work their way up from my departed guitar, Kiddy, to those demons preppy feet. Her pink all star Converse make me want to shove a brick down her throat. My eyes regretfully scan up her legs as I begin to ponder as to what horrid heartless soul would destroy such a beautiful and heavenly work of art. Faded blue skinny jeans, Hollister belt, sickening pink polo shirt, emo style hair, cherry red lips, heavy eyeliner, ignorant deep blue eyes. Add all of this up, and you get Willow. My soon to be departed girlfriend.
Slap.
Her hand violently whips across my innocent face. She starts screaming words of jealousy and rage, punishing me for having a very intellectual conversation with my best friend Secret. That little hooker actually had the nerve to go through my phone and read my messages. I squeeze my fist, attempting to calm my calamic rage. My mind fills with things I only wish I could make true. But I know if I attempt to bring my demented wishes to life, I would inevitably dig my own grave. Still screaming, still jealous with rage filling her soul. Oh god when will this end? Why can’t she just leave me to morn my loss?
Thug.
She places her hands on my chest. She hatefully starts to apply pressure, forcefully sending me back into the wall. I slump down onto the floor. Instinctively my hands move up and start to caress my throbbing head, which is now only filled with a darkness so dark that if put onto paper it would make white cry. Suddenly my leg informs me of a newly founded wound by sending me a jolt of shock up throughout my body. I look down to find that a shard of Kiddy sliced through my right thigh. I look up at Willow. She looks down at me, emotionless. She is taunting me, convincing me to pull it out. My logical mind refuses. But the hell rising inside of me forces acceptance.
Splatter.
My right hand shoots out with the shard, splattering blood onto the hardwood floor. A tear attempts to escape my eye. But I violently rip it apart, keeping it from showing any weakness. I grasp the shard in my hand. I look at it, then look at Willow. She looks at me in shock and fear. She takes a step back. I stagger onto my feet. I am no longer in rage. I am no longer in pain. I am no longer me.
Step.
I stagger towards her, my arms open and forgiving. She starts to cry. She comes and embraces my forgiving chest as if I was one of the lost and dead who came back to life. I embrace her as I would a daughter who has just killed the love of my life. And so she shall be punished as one.
Thump.
I can feel her heart beat on my chest as my left arm wraps around her. It annoys me. My right arm comes up, poking the shard gently into her tummy. She slowly looks up at me hoping for mercy. I look into her eyes; I see fear deepen into her soul. I smile.
Inhale.