read at your own caution.
For exactly nine minutes and two seconds, I sat in the bottom of a canyon, on the hood of my car, music blasting, trying to forget everything Id ever known about love and death and deceit and most of all, about life. An enormous bird of some sort flew high overhead squawking in the cold Arizona air. Its patterns of flight and disarray in actions left anything to be guessed as to what his goal was, although I can only assume it to be the death of his next meal. I took care in my thought of the bird, and realized that I too was thinking of the same thing I assume his to be. Id make a meal, and Id make it well.
I jumped into the car, songs on repeat, and drove like hell to the next turn out of the canyon. The rocks and hills seemed to interrogate my run down jeep with every shutter its old shocks felt. The questions were unimportant and entirely inconsequential, but Id have known no answers anyhow. My mind was entirely uninterruptible and could have never strayed from the path itd taken an hour or so before. Whiskey and opiates had become the inspiration for everything I would do for the rest of my life, and Id been convinced by the hard taste and peaking high that Id never come down from, that a culmination was due, and up for grabs as quick as I could find my mark.
When the song started again, it seemed as though Id never heard it before, and my mind as good as started over on the same track, only this time increasing in strength and building on anything Id already conceived. I exited the canyon in a swift 90 degree left turn that nearly turned my jeep on its side, which felt as good as any high Id ever had. I screamed to myself and to the jeep and to the air, to make everything go faster and to make everything brighter. I grabbed for the gallon of whiskey, and drank like a farmer drinks his water; straight from the tap, and in gulps of celebration for good things done.
The long stretch of road running from the canyon to the cabin was straight as a fucking parade partition, and I became bored being with restraint in its strobbing yellow streaks. I took the rusted red jeep to the side of the rode, and went nearly twice the posted speed. With every bump in the road, my head hit the cheapened metal ceiling which hut like hell, but I cursed the little headroom I did have as a waste of air. I was trying to find a whole lot of nothing, but then it found me, and I rejoiced and praised as I screamed louder and drove faster and got higher.
About a mile before I reached the cabin, I stopped my jeep, and got out, and turned the radio as loud as itd go. I clumsily hopped onto the roof and with a leap, gulped the equivalent of about 8 shots of whiskey. I screamed too loud to hear my own voice, and I sang and nearly danced to the song. I watched a deer run frantically towards a ridge, and praised his existence. Every hop that deer made seemed to make the ground quake with the same vigor my heart thumped with. I grew too frantic with the pace of my own quivering existence to contain into a realm of seemingly normal actions. I ripped off my shirt, and dumped the substantial remainder of the whiskey on it. I used to shirt to draw an elaborately broken heart on the hood of the jeep, and tossed my cigarette onto it, watching it shoot into flames Id never seen bespectacled by any amount of magic. The bottles fate resided in my smashing it on the windshield of my jeep, shattering both works of glass into innumerable amounts of shard. With my bloody hand, I took the remaining handle of the whiskey bottle, and used it to carve a solitary diagonal line across the left side of my chest, and discarded the handle and my shirt.
I floored my broken jeep until its speed reached a plateau well above the highest mark on the speedometer. I felt the heat of the jeeps burning blue heart gracing that of my own, and laughed hard at how my burning skin felt more like some gorgeous woman softly tracing her fingertips through the bloody gash on my heart. I felt the blood from my wound running directly down the soft seam through the center of my stomach. I felt it trickle through my jeans, and flood my cock with its oozing warm grain.
I drove full speed into sight of the cabin I knew the bitch was sleeping in. I knew exactly where she laid, and knew well that there was a well-established piece of shit lying with his arms around her. Id known his type well throughout my time, and had made a constant attempt to avoid talking to any of his sorts. I aimed my broken soul, and tattered jeep into direct sight of where the broken bedroom rested in the threadbare cabin. I screamed a concluding scream as I made with force directly through the wall and into the bedroom that held the conjoined couple of fucks in their bed.
On impact, my body was thrown through the crater where my windshield had once lay, and landed skin to skin with the couple in a shock. Broken bones and bloody skulls had never looked as majestic as they had to me then, and I took a moments glace at the way their arms were shattered but still wrapped around each other. I reached for a knife in my back pocket, and before repeatedly slashed the remainder of their pleading faces into a persuasive work of art, screamed a phrase from the song as Id remembered it. As their lifes ended in a gurgle of choke and suffocation, I repeatedly bellowed the words Real soon, well be alright.
My heart skipped a beat as I considered the humbleness I felt at the end Id concluded upon for the three of us. I felt complete and irreconcilable as I took the knife that Id used for demise and reconstruction, and plunged it deep into my own heart, deepening the already presently redundant wound thatd grown present. Feeling nothing, I removed and plunged again for as long as can be expected. I dont remember stopping, and I dont remember wanting to, I just remember fading into a place that Id longed for throughout my life as Id known it. I just remember feeling complete.
For exactly nine minutes and two seconds, I sat in the bottom of a canyon, on the hood of my car, music blasting, trying to forget everything Id ever known about love and death and deceit and most of all, about life. An enormous bird of some sort flew high overhead squawking in the cold Arizona air. Its patterns of flight and disarray in actions left anything to be guessed as to what his goal was, although I can only assume it to be the death of his next meal. I took care in my thought of the bird, and realized that I too was thinking of the same thing I assume his to be. Id make a meal, and Id make it well.
I jumped into the car, songs on repeat, and drove like hell to the next turn out of the canyon. The rocks and hills seemed to interrogate my run down jeep with every shutter its old shocks felt. The questions were unimportant and entirely inconsequential, but Id have known no answers anyhow. My mind was entirely uninterruptible and could have never strayed from the path itd taken an hour or so before. Whiskey and opiates had become the inspiration for everything I would do for the rest of my life, and Id been convinced by the hard taste and peaking high that Id never come down from, that a culmination was due, and up for grabs as quick as I could find my mark.
When the song started again, it seemed as though Id never heard it before, and my mind as good as started over on the same track, only this time increasing in strength and building on anything Id already conceived. I exited the canyon in a swift 90 degree left turn that nearly turned my jeep on its side, which felt as good as any high Id ever had. I screamed to myself and to the jeep and to the air, to make everything go faster and to make everything brighter. I grabbed for the gallon of whiskey, and drank like a farmer drinks his water; straight from the tap, and in gulps of celebration for good things done.
The long stretch of road running from the canyon to the cabin was straight as a fucking parade partition, and I became bored being with restraint in its strobbing yellow streaks. I took the rusted red jeep to the side of the rode, and went nearly twice the posted speed. With every bump in the road, my head hit the cheapened metal ceiling which hut like hell, but I cursed the little headroom I did have as a waste of air. I was trying to find a whole lot of nothing, but then it found me, and I rejoiced and praised as I screamed louder and drove faster and got higher.
About a mile before I reached the cabin, I stopped my jeep, and got out, and turned the radio as loud as itd go. I clumsily hopped onto the roof and with a leap, gulped the equivalent of about 8 shots of whiskey. I screamed too loud to hear my own voice, and I sang and nearly danced to the song. I watched a deer run frantically towards a ridge, and praised his existence. Every hop that deer made seemed to make the ground quake with the same vigor my heart thumped with. I grew too frantic with the pace of my own quivering existence to contain into a realm of seemingly normal actions. I ripped off my shirt, and dumped the substantial remainder of the whiskey on it. I used to shirt to draw an elaborately broken heart on the hood of the jeep, and tossed my cigarette onto it, watching it shoot into flames Id never seen bespectacled by any amount of magic. The bottles fate resided in my smashing it on the windshield of my jeep, shattering both works of glass into innumerable amounts of shard. With my bloody hand, I took the remaining handle of the whiskey bottle, and used it to carve a solitary diagonal line across the left side of my chest, and discarded the handle and my shirt.
I floored my broken jeep until its speed reached a plateau well above the highest mark on the speedometer. I felt the heat of the jeeps burning blue heart gracing that of my own, and laughed hard at how my burning skin felt more like some gorgeous woman softly tracing her fingertips through the bloody gash on my heart. I felt the blood from my wound running directly down the soft seam through the center of my stomach. I felt it trickle through my jeans, and flood my cock with its oozing warm grain.
I drove full speed into sight of the cabin I knew the bitch was sleeping in. I knew exactly where she laid, and knew well that there was a well-established piece of shit lying with his arms around her. Id known his type well throughout my time, and had made a constant attempt to avoid talking to any of his sorts. I aimed my broken soul, and tattered jeep into direct sight of where the broken bedroom rested in the threadbare cabin. I screamed a concluding scream as I made with force directly through the wall and into the bedroom that held the conjoined couple of fucks in their bed.
On impact, my body was thrown through the crater where my windshield had once lay, and landed skin to skin with the couple in a shock. Broken bones and bloody skulls had never looked as majestic as they had to me then, and I took a moments glace at the way their arms were shattered but still wrapped around each other. I reached for a knife in my back pocket, and before repeatedly slashed the remainder of their pleading faces into a persuasive work of art, screamed a phrase from the song as Id remembered it. As their lifes ended in a gurgle of choke and suffocation, I repeatedly bellowed the words Real soon, well be alright.
My heart skipped a beat as I considered the humbleness I felt at the end Id concluded upon for the three of us. I felt complete and irreconcilable as I took the knife that Id used for demise and reconstruction, and plunged it deep into my own heart, deepening the already presently redundant wound thatd grown present. Feeling nothing, I removed and plunged again for as long as can be expected. I dont remember stopping, and I dont remember wanting to, I just remember fading into a place that Id longed for throughout my life as Id known it. I just remember feeling complete.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
germ13:
That was amazing where did you draw your inspiration from?
barbiq:
excellent : Aerosol 