PHQ-Nickname:
hollow
Halfquake:
Radical Perfection
Level:
21
Total kills:
711,304
Birthday:
September 25th 1985
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| Mood: | depressive |
| Type: | Story |
| Added: | October 23rd 2005, 17:27:12 |
| Visits: | 1040 |
| Rating: | Not rated yet. |
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I don ' t know where I am, I hope I ' m dreaming; dreaming with the kind of clarity that a wretched taste gives you, the energy rush that spits it out and revs your heart, all without you asking. Room, closed windows, cage-oh! When I ' m well - shocked, my eyes roll up a little and my mind goes somewhere and is reborn (Locke was right) tabula rasa. A wonderful elegant quiet in my head that is always adulterated almost soon enough so that I could miss it before it ' s gone. If you ask me my favorite color and I might answer orange. Orange.
There ' s this woman and I know already she ' s the kind of woman I only ever want to see smiling. Bars. It ' s some kind of do it yourself jail, serves one cold. The door with the keyhole, but I can ' t seem to look for the key. I have accidently spent my attention on something else instead. It ' s probably because she ' s talking about something beautiful. It sounds like French, but I can tell by her voice, the voice by which violins are tuned, that it ' s something I want to hear. I try smiling, so she doesn ' t leave.
Someone, no doubt, is being hit by the key with every step they walk, making the jingling sound with the coins. That is what the room says, all smug and silent, roughed up by the way she asked it but still defiant and hostile. I sit down on the ground and lean against the bars. She offers me an apple. We wait for the end of time. I hope I ' m dreaming but only because when I wake up I hope we speak the same language. |
TheAwake
October 24th 2005, 10:20:28
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| The critics will eventually break their necks as they stumble down the stairs outside the viewing room. They should haven taken their time with it, probaby. |
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TheAwake
