12-06-2007, 05:12 AM
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The crystals reminded him of birthdays and new years, shattered expressions and warm nights. The snow outside reminded him of graves and fireflies, dandelions frozen in the ice. The wind whistling shrilly through the narrow passage ways reminded him of banshees, real or imagined, calling for his death because he had eluded its grasp for far too long. His vision blurred like a thousand mornings melted together with the sunlight dazzling and blinding him, piercing through him like he was the vampire and the monster. Two suns and one was out, a bloody hole in the sky, dripping with days and months and years of regret, passed by in the blink of an eye and filled with metaphors he used to understand. And maybe he still did, but the cold weighed down on the black heart in his chest and his throat hurt when he swallowed so he was trying not to breathe.
Nights like these seemed like the perfect times to die, but they were so beautiful that he couldn't do anything more than observe them and not think beyond the outlines. Maybe he had heard her come. Maybe not. Maybe he had and denied their existence because denying things was what he did best -- it was how he survived. Even in acceptance, he denied the core of the truth because by even thinking there was an ultimate truth, he was believing a lie. Deep down, he knew that, but he didn't bother with it. Her voice seemed muffled, but his ears had been flattened and the wind was still screaming outside, louder even, as if it knew that nothing good could come of this. Why was she here? Why did she bother speaking to him? Why was he worth even that?
His life had been filled with weak moments, but he couldn't remember them all anymore. Between thrashing pianos and suicide attempts, there had been other gaps in time where he had been less than presentable too, but... what. His memory was faded around the edges because it just took too much energy to care. There were some memories that would never leave him and those were enough.
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The crystals reminded him of birthdays and new years, shattered expressions and warm nights. The snow outside reminded him of graves and fireflies, dandelions frozen in the ice. The wind whistling shrilly through the narrow passage ways reminded him of banshees, real or imagined, calling for his death because he had eluded its grasp for far too long. His vision blurred like a thousand mornings melted together with the sunlight dazzling and blinding him, piercing through him like he was the vampire and the monster. Two suns and one was out, a bloody hole in the sky, dripping with days and months and years of regret, passed by in the blink of an eye and filled with metaphors he used to understand. And maybe he still did, but the cold weighed down on the black heart in his chest and his throat hurt when he swallowed so he was trying not to breathe.
Nights like these seemed like the perfect times to die, but they were so beautiful that he couldn't do anything more than observe them and not think beyond the outlines. Maybe he had heard her come. Maybe not. Maybe he had and denied their existence because denying things was what he did best -- it was how he survived. Even in acceptance, he denied the core of the truth because by even thinking there was an ultimate truth, he was believing a lie. Deep down, he knew that, but he didn't bother with it. Her voice seemed muffled, but his ears had been flattened and the wind was still screaming outside, louder even, as if it knew that nothing good could come of this. Why was she here? Why did she bother speaking to him? Why was he worth even that?
His life had been filled with weak moments, but he couldn't remember them all anymore. Between thrashing pianos and suicide attempts, there had been other gaps in time where he had been less than presentable too, but... what. His memory was faded around the edges because it just took too much energy to care. There were some memories that would never leave him and those were enough.
I've been empty a long time,he said quietly, voice scratchy and rough. A shell, a container for two wicked souls. It was too cliche to call one a demon and one an angel. He knew that he was no angel, even without the other thing in his skull. They were both monsters in their own right, each destructive and sadistic in their own ways. Sociopaths with no regard for their fellow man or beast.
I would change it if I could,he whispered and there was cackling in his head. They weren't his words to speak, but those were the syllables he had fallen in love with.