| Subject: ± Someone Gave Me A Mirror ± |
Author:
…::Cynic::…
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Date Posted: 20:06:30 05/22/02 Wed
In reply to:
Lydan
's message, "- And you don't seem to understand -" on 15:29:18 05/22/02 Wed
…|| what do i look like, a respirator? ||…
…|| i cant help you breathe when ive suffocated myself ||…
…|| but an angel, little boy? ||…
…|| where are you looking? ||…
† Form once more wavers in its holographic appearance, tapering away from the planet in great amounts. Chest is made to heave even more with effort to stay living in a atmosphere that had no recognition or caring for scorned being that committed suicide day after day. Skeleton makes great attempt at turn half-stumbling on the way, though stance is still somewhat proud, the imitation of a violated statue. Embodiment of spite is hauled forward as though carrying more weight than what hung listlessly from worn bones. Skull is forced towards a heaven never to be reached, pitying bugle, a mere whisper in its lifeless desert of an origin, left to the birds still flying. Form nearly collapses, mime desperate for the silken chill of ink once more, caves of darkness that lulled death to its own sleep. Before eyelids can drop their velvet nightshade curtains, notice is taken of the approach of youthful brute. Faltering valkyrie balks backwards mindlessly, pillars nearly shattering beneath the sudden motions. Pale ivories snap together in ruthless, poisonous lash, the serpent who disguised a fallen fairy. Butterscotch swallowtail sidesteps skittishly, deprived of living contact for eternities. But as analytic perusing continues, bitter realization is made. Opposing stallion was nowhere near the ballpark of sanity or true life, and he seeped away from border line as easily as herself. Optics are made to narrow, their sight brittle and failing, another discovery made uselessly. Charcoal-dunked being was slightly familiar, though aged and nearly unrecognizable in the depth of sin. Bricks slap against brittle body suddenly, bee sting slap to the tormented frailty. Of course. The shadow. Her shadow that had forever been on the follow, a detective in her rotten state of earthly-habitation. Yet again is the sound wanted choked back by tattered throat, lost in the deep clutter of heavy breathing. And still is defense there, incisors lashing every so often in futile attempt to seem ‘fine’. †
\\come closer sweetheart//
\\you can lean on my candy-coated shoulder//
\\and since the time has come now//
\\we can go insane and die together//
.:…and our season finale we have found…:.
.:…we hope you loved the show…:.
.:…because we just got cancelled…:.
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