"Throw Up"

What is this in my hands, my loneliness made flesh. My stomach turns. My body as empty as my soul.

This is torture.

I know.

Make it stop.

I can't.

I pull my hair. Something has got to give way.

No. Nothing can be done.

Shut the bitch up. Pull out your blade and be done with it.

This is not fair. This is not me. I spit on all of this pain. Angular bones reflected in the mirror. How many more days to go before this vessel gives way?

The spewing turns into a blood clotted mess. Good. It's better this way. I dont want to be here anyway. I just want to exist where i was in his arms. Not that he can't hear me. Everything way so clear then. It was just an illusion. Dreams are signposts of the other planes. There were suppose to be other plans for us.

Where did it all go? When did i stray? Was i not good enough. Why am i back here again, all alone, before the gates of eternity. I'm trapped.

And all i have and smell, is the vomit of my being.

Human.
  ¶ 6/12/2004 05:41:00 PM