majikc0w
Bluelighter
Nothing moved the day my world died. All I can remember is the silence that ate away at the thoughts and feelings. And that's what it was, something devouring my humanity. Tearing apart the delicate threads linking me to my past, to my family, to myself. I thought I would be happy on that car ride home. Sitting behind those bars, the cold metal jutting into my back, but I wasn't. Not that I was UN-happy... I was just there. And I have been ever since then. Watching myself through an old T.V. The picture fading in and out. Sometimes pouring out to a static filled ocean. But Im never totally connected. Always on the fringe of a tear or a complete mental fucking. Ready to lash out and bite.
Ever since that freedom hit me I've been dead. A locust shell of a happy life. So I write for the first time since my unexpected demise. And my hand freely flows dashing marks against the grain. I'm waiting, letting the sedation slowly set in fully. The fetus is kicking the system aborted uterus. Wanting the phoenix, the red wings around my pale skin, an imperial embrace, to take me back to my life.
Ever since that freedom hit me I've been dead. A locust shell of a happy life. So I write for the first time since my unexpected demise. And my hand freely flows dashing marks against the grain. I'm waiting, letting the sedation slowly set in fully. The fetus is kicking the system aborted uterus. Wanting the phoenix, the red wings around my pale skin, an imperial embrace, to take me back to my life.
