Unfinished Thoughts

So my almost lover flew to the other side of the country and I barely noticed. He's sitting there over looking some industrial wasted land and I'm over looking the alleyway peering into my neighbor's backyard gardens. I couldn't think of what else to say to him. Anything that came slipped into anger. I was cruel and it came all too easy. He stood at my sink, elbow deep in soapy water watching me slip under the covers as he tried to alleviate his guilt with domestic acts of kindness. I should have cleaned the kitchen weeks ago.

I've been eaten up by something that hurts. I can't focus on what's important. I can't seem to work. I'm sure it will come but right now I feel guilty and it's eating me up. Stopping me from completing these tasks at hand. I wander the halls of an old hospital and the nurses tell me to scoot up a little closer. Breathe in. Now breathe out. It will only hurt for a second. It's okay. I've done this so very many times before. Maybe this time it will work.

Everyday I seem to feel sick. I feel sick. Something isn't working the way it should be. It should be working. Several years ago I stepped away from the arms of men. A few have slipped in around the edges of my armor but none liked what they found and did not care to stay. I swear I have never felt good and I would not suggest an extended vacation in my bed. I toss and I turn and I find myself uncomfortable all night long. Don't dip your hand below my waistband. I might take it upon my self to bite you. To nip at your fingers until you shriek and take your hand back from me.

There's a kitten perched on my shoulder and a big black cat across my feet. She is purring and riding the rhythm of my hands dancing across the keyboard causing my shoulder to shake. I'm watching the night and I'm thinking of all those almost lovers who have crossed my life. I'm thinking of how this city sometimes sucks the life out of me and how I want to see the countryside once again. I think about sleeping and letting the softness of quilts lay against my naked skin. I'm thinking about the time I almost loved you and the little fingers of insanity that seemed to creep up inside my brain. I'm thinking about just giving up and staying inside this little room forever.

Maybe I should go outside and go for a walk...

I Want to be Adored

And the audience stood gap mouthed and slack jawed watching the magician's assistant attempt to saw herself in half. If the stage hands hadn't wrestled the saw from her white clutching finger tips, she would have succeeded. The blood was pouring from the stage and pooling around black shoes and sensible black socks. Seeping into pants cuffs and making the floor sticky and slick with promise and entrails. Eyes stayed transfixed on the stage; no a single eyelid blinked or looked away. They watched as she sunk the teeth of the saw into her side. They remained unmoving as the blood started leaking from her; first in a slow trickle, building to a gush and then soon a river of red pouring down the stairs and into the aisles. The crowd breathed as one, in and out, as she stood silently counting each individual tooth in her head as it tore through her skin, flesh, and bone.

As burly men in black coats with Security written across the back tore the saw from her hand, a shower of blood rained down on them spraying from only one source. As they tore at her grip the audience stood transfixed slowly growing a deep red coat of her blood. She screamed, "I want to be adored!" as they pulled her away now holding onto her own guts and blood smearing a trail across the stage. She tore at the red, red curtains until they fell from their rings wrapping her in a red shroud, a messiah drug away by apostles of violence and order.

And the audience broke its trance and chanted as one, "We adore you. We adore you. We adore you..." over and over again. And the world split open into a red tide and in a wash of magic and blood drowned the masses clean.