wiohfihf;owifjw

This story is about a young girl growing up in the new suburbs of Chicago in the 1950's.

She is in the 7th grade, her hair is in loose curls pulled back with a red bow. It is a light auburn like the color of faded mahogany. Her mittens are damp from today's snowball fight and her long black woolen kisses the wet ground slightly, her boots too large, but warm. One day while she was walking home from school in the winters cold, she spotted something. As she turned unto the road exactly one block from hers she blacked out. This is her story.

I SAY FUCK THA MOTHA FUCKAZ, THA MORE PEOPLE THAY KILL, DA BETTA IT IZ FO ERYBODY;

This car is a metal coffin and,
I tried to live, oh baby, but how
am I? when your hand is holding
onto my neck like your about to die?
A silent death-grip bound in blood
and teeth. Each breath triggers
the clocks to suspend and slow.
Pretty soon the road ends and
baby, pretty soon there's no where
else to go. The trunks will smash
and twist, the glass will crack and hiss,
When our skin bashes in, and our
heads are outside in, Baby,we'll
both drop down past the ground
and fall into Below.

God Bless You, Son,

"...Do you hear me? I am the Alpha and Fucking Omega, I am the mother fucking first and mother fucking last, I am the beginning, I am the end, And buddy, well, I'm holding this fucking cannon, and you got shit. I am your own, personal, Jesus fucking Christ. You better start prayin'"


Cocks Pistol.


"Your life ends tonight "


Shoots.
...there is blood everywhere...



yeah it's gay, but you know you would love it at the end of an action/gangland/shooter type film. I'm off today, my hair is pink and "plum" so I'm pretty satisfied with think. I'm waiting on my 1" tappers to get the fuck here, damnit Heather. And I start my left sleeve soon!!! Muy Bueno!

Dear Dreamland;

Won't you please come to me?
Won't you please comfort me?
Won't you please take me away?
I'm on my hands and knees, begging,
oh won't you come, won't you stay?

Won't you please hold me tight?
Won't you please keep me warm?
Will you not make things right?
Will you not help weather this storm?

Oh Dreamland, please, make it stop,
make my head stop throbbing,
make my head stop ringing,
Let me fly, far, far away,
bring me away this one night.


Won't you please hurry up?
Won't you please give a fuck?
Dreamland, your empty promise
is making things ever worse,
That inevitable noir hearse
is closing in, with every moment
you fail to mend, Oh Dreamland, don't you fail me again.

Won't you please forgive my sins?
Won't you please help my binge?
Bring the dark, bring the dreams,
Bring the shadows, make me unhinge

Oh Dreamland you've come,
Oh Dreamland I've waited,
Oh how, Dreamland, I've anticipated ,
This one last time, this one last rhyme,
Oh Dreamland, my life on hold,
My life sedated.

the bodybag

There is a bound and gag;
that my body is in,
that my voice in in,
that holds my limbs,
my flesh and skin, my
hands and knees, my head
and hair, my wrists, my mouth,
my heart, my lungs, my throat
my sweat, my sins, and my ankles is in.
There is a bottle and a rag;
that my death is in,
that my flashback is in
that my one last breath,
my heart-attack, and last
gasp, my last grasp at life,
my no going back , my final fine,
and my one last time is in.
There is a body bag;
that my soul is in,
that my love is in,
that my lust, and pride,
my pain, my joy, my hope,
my goals, my thoughts, my
emotions and dreams, my drive,
There is a box and tag;
that I am in,
that my toe is in,
until dirt gets in,
and maggots eat my skin.

THE SERIOUS CASE OF:

HER OVER DRAMATICS &
HIS BIONIC SCHEMATICS.




"Nevermind, Nevermind, You'll always be mine," She breathed into his ear,"If I kiss you tonight, it might be the last time," They're heads were matted and clumped with dirt and blood. Her hair was ripped and stuck in the door frame. His body was folded and limp, and there was no warmth left. "You told me you would never leave me, you told promised forever, why did you lie to me? why? Your grip on my heart is sometimes so painful and harsh, how am I to live without you? You promised me forever." The car began to moan and hiss, pieces of glass everywhere, most wedged in their flesh like specks of water after a shower. "Baby, she told us our love was like red, she told us it was like passion, she told us it was the color of blood. Oh, baby you told me not to believe...look at you now," Her fingers fumbled for the buckle, pushing hard on the red button, releasing her, and letting her fall. The car was flipped into a tree. The air smelt like burnt rubber and copper. The ground she landed on was warm, and moist with sticky black. He was still strapped into the seat, the car began to make a low growl from the engine. "Dear boy, if you miss your bedtime, why, you wont wake up on-time, but no one sleeps tonight, I'll be bionic the rest of my life, what you always wanted," She was on her knees , the metal coffin twisted around her. She smelt gasoline. "If I stay, we will both burn...Oh baby, I'll be your bionic women tonight, all of your heroes are dead. You finally got what you wanted." She kissed him one last time, leaving a red lip-print on his fair, bruised, skin, and turned toward her door. The air around her began to ripple and began distorting what she saw. She banged the door with both hands and it finally budged open. Her leg broken, and a couple other things, but she was able to pull herself out of the vehicle. "You didn't lie. You'll always be in my heart, my machine... Always." She pulled herself away from the car, her skin damp with sweat, her body bloodied and broken. She was in cover, behind tree's. There was a loud clapping noise and then the explosion. The fire warmed her, even from afar. "One time, you told me...you told me you knew the secret, the secret to this life...it was death, baby, you never told me...you'll be my love forever" A white light surounded everything.



"It appears that around 2 a.m. this morning a young man and women were in a fatal car accedent. Authorities say that the young man had a blood alcohol level of .20 and lost control of the car. It appears the car flipped several times, and landed in trees, and then the vehicle proceeded to blow-up. They both died instently. Authorities have also been told from several sources that in the past months the young man recently got involved in the Satanic occult. Several sources also say it was a 'suicide and sacrifice'. It is still under investigation. God bless their famlies. "

There's something about your face, that makes me wanna cut it off. There's something about this place, that makes me want to scream

Sleep,
Eat,
Love,
Fuck,
Kiss,
Shower,
Work,
Drive,
Smoke,
Drink,
Hug,
Cry,
Live
and Die.
Together.
Please, pretend like you actually know something.


Our hands warm and sweaty, our pulse vibrating through our thumbs, synchronized together.
Your familiar aroma welcomes me. You do not have to open your arms for me to know how you feel.
Puzzle pieces that fit, a problem solved. Little mysteries day to day leading to our fortune, our fate.
Our path is a long, and crooked one. I've got my good shoes on. Do you?
Danger around every bend, but Ive got your hand, and you've got mine.
Our hands will lead us on. Onward until the clock runs out, until everything is black.

the gateway [not finished]

My name is Mable, and I'm stuck in St. Mary's Hospital for Children. They say I have a rare form of cancer, and that I might not live much longer. I'm only 12, I hope I make it to 13. I want to at least be a teenager just for a little while. Baxter, my older brother who is 14, says that when the minute hits that your no longer a "youngin'," you feel different. I can't wait to feel different. With all of these tubes they stick in and out of me, I havent been feeling very good. The medicine makes me hallucinate. I like to see little faeries roaming around my room. Soft, delicate wings of the palest pinks, blues and greens. Twinkiling happily, fluttering around, waiting for me to smile. My nurse, Kathy, plays along with me. She's a nice middle-aged women. Her laugh lines havent set in, so she still looks young. She has fire red hair and deep brown eyes. I love her hair, its different. My hair is just boring mud brown, and my eyes used to be ice blue, but ever since I got sick, they just look dull gray. Baxter tell's me I resemble my Mother. "You got her face shape, and her nose, and her freckles," He would always tell me. I wish I could have met her, but she passed away when I was just a couple months old. She died from Leukemia. Baxter doesn't get sick, like I do. I guess I get that from her too. Baxter says I also got her imgination, and that he doesn't care for that "Stuff, it's for women." Kathy began preparing all of the colorful pills I've been perscribed. "This one is cherry flavored, it's red and matches those cheeks of yours...and this one is blue, like blueberrys, and youre eyes..and look, I've even snuck this up here for you!" She handed me a sugar free cola, she's a nice lady. I giggle and take my medicine with my bubbly drink, it makes me burp, and I giggled some more. Most kids, when they see me, their eyes get wide, and they barely talk. I'm dying, but I'm not dead yet. I can still laugh and smile just as easily as you, Baxter or even Kathy, with her loose crimson curls. Her head resembled spiriling fireballs. But anyway, I turn 13 in four months, and the Doc's say I'll only last for two. Me being sick has made me as delicate as a hummingbird, small, frail, but I keep my my brain strong. It's all I've got. Sometime, I create worlds in my head, and with the medicine, I can see them sometimes. Glimpses of turquose water, completely still, other then the water slowly twisting and churning at the base of a waterfall. The water glitters, and smells like vanilla. The are smells like cinnamon. But these were only glimpses of images, I never got to explore or touch or feel the air kissing my face ever-so slightly...until Mr. Toad came. Kathy said he visited all the kids "like me," He was sugar coated and always happy. What she was telling me was that he cheered up dying kids one last time before...

I didn't like the sound of him. I was already happy, and bubbling with imagination. I mean, the hospital's plain white walls and bright lights, and constant soap smell drive me crazy sometimes, but it's what I have. I liked day-dreaming about tropical get-always. But they were fake.


Mr. Toad was a paperclip, essentially. I mean, he is thin and looks easily bendable. His height is a couple feet taller then me. If he has any other hair then a few black curls wildly looping out from under a short brimmed bowler hat, I'd never know. The hat is a deep plum color, which exagirates his tanned skin and jungle green eyes.

"Mable, I've heard so much about you," his voice delicate and smooth, like milk chocolate. At first, i think he is a normal man, just a boring old dope who has no children of his own, and all the time in the world.

My nose will itch, and I will be where I am meant to be. Maybe not this time period, and maybe not even this very world.