Why was I there again? The things that I want by me: A smoke, a whiskey, her to fuck me, to sleep, to forget, to just blow everything, the power to not look back, to just fuck it all and ride into the hot sunset…..
I was hurt, they were all dead. I released my finger from the trigger leave the barrel with smoke and the smell of burning flesh, probably the skin burned from the hot bullets. I could feel the dripping sweat on my body trying to cool me. Just then I opened my eyes and the 1st thing I gaze my look upon was her ass, perfect, as my left hand was grabbing it. Next thing I noticed was my right hand, it was pulling her red as hell hair. The first think I heard was her voice, screaming loudly as I pulled her hair harder and harder and before I know it, it was all over. Next thing I hear was her saying: you are not normal, you broke me. These cannot be covered by a dress.
I didn't fucking ask for this. But as we lay in bed and shared a smoke I wanted to tell her that all we need is to know that we love each other and that she was just perfect.
Closing my eyes forces me to look at the darkness inside. The darkness that drove me here, the darkness that left those marks on her. I had woken up to hear her screaming voice. The voice that could kill angels and slay demons. My world was getting to small for comfort. I do not know what to make of this.
Wait, wait just a minute. Talk to me! Tell me you want to go to bed with me again and just get up so we can forget what we did, just let me hear that voice again, let me feel that skin, those sweet lips and that perfume that makes my heart worm.
As the idea rips through my mind, it shatters the image of the women moving the lips. This is what I see when I look back, these moments, blinding as a flash of light, they kill you, change you, I die and I live again, remade.
I came to a midst the wreckage of my own making. I am staying here to make sure that the fire I started will not extend. But no one is waking up from this dream with a kiss. It is the way around, she kisses him to wake him up, to make him stare into the abys he created, to rip the wings that he has and make him jump.
I don’t know, is this a crime? It is against the law to be happy? How did this happen? Did life play a trick on me and shattered the mask I was wearing reveling something?
Death is inevitable, our fear of it makes us play safe, blocks down emotion and it’s a losing game. Without passion you are already dead.
I was hurt, they were all dead. I released my finger from the trigger leave the barrel with smoke and the smell of burning flesh, probably the skin burned from the hot bullets. I could feel the dripping sweat on my body trying to cool me. Just then I opened my eyes and the 1st thing I gaze my look upon was her ass, perfect, as my left hand was grabbing it. Next thing I noticed was my right hand, it was pulling her red as hell hair. The first think I heard was her voice, screaming loudly as I pulled her hair harder and harder and before I know it, it was all over. Next thing I hear was her saying: you are not normal, you broke me. These cannot be covered by a dress.
I didn't fucking ask for this. But as we lay in bed and shared a smoke I wanted to tell her that all we need is to know that we love each other and that she was just perfect.
Closing my eyes forces me to look at the darkness inside. The darkness that drove me here, the darkness that left those marks on her. I had woken up to hear her screaming voice. The voice that could kill angels and slay demons. My world was getting to small for comfort. I do not know what to make of this.
Wait, wait just a minute. Talk to me! Tell me you want to go to bed with me again and just get up so we can forget what we did, just let me hear that voice again, let me feel that skin, those sweet lips and that perfume that makes my heart worm.
As the idea rips through my mind, it shatters the image of the women moving the lips. This is what I see when I look back, these moments, blinding as a flash of light, they kill you, change you, I die and I live again, remade.
I came to a midst the wreckage of my own making. I am staying here to make sure that the fire I started will not extend. But no one is waking up from this dream with a kiss. It is the way around, she kisses him to wake him up, to make him stare into the abys he created, to rip the wings that he has and make him jump.
I don’t know, is this a crime? It is against the law to be happy? How did this happen? Did life play a trick on me and shattered the mask I was wearing reveling something?
Death is inevitable, our fear of it makes us play safe, blocks down emotion and it’s a losing game. Without passion you are already dead.
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