isetfires

I start whisper-singing the Pixies "Debaser" to my self and glance over at the boltcutters. They are lying on the floor in a puddle of congealed blood and bone splinters. Two of my left toes and all of my left fingers are piled in the open glove box. Seven digits, one for each day we've been apart. I take two more vicodins and light another cigarette. Then I wrap some fresh gauze around my hand. I reach over to the passengers seat and stroke the nine-millimeter lovingly, knowingly. I spent hours scrawling her name onto the side of each bullet.

Tonight I am going to take her into my arms and love her into oblivion.
- Pig Destroyer -

this is love.