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85 Posts
Discussion Starter · #1 ·
My words fall with the heaviness with which they are spoken. Their dead weight only works to thicken the air and choke any possibility of mutation. If only my thoughts were words that could flow and spark rivers of warmth upon the bodies of the fairer sex. I could live then, in a telepathic world I could live comfortably and perhaps even excel amongst my peers. I could show them what I knew, I could make them feel the rage and the destitution with which I am haunted with every time they are present. Then they might understand the changes they see in my face, they could comprehend what cannot be explained to someone who has never experienced the alienation and the isolation of being caged amongst your own thoughts.
But I am merely one of the legion of lonely and insignificant people who make up this world. Who run this world, who carry this world on their backs so that others can ride. The greatest and most painful injustice is them not knowing what we endure merely to keep their lives from being disrupted. How we try to mimic their prehistoric ramblings and post-modern diction so that we may blend in with them, how we yearn for acceptance amongst their cliques even though we have come to hate them. How they torment us with the ease at which they coagulate and begin clogging the arteries of our minds, killing us with the aneurysms of our desire.
"No thank you."
Why the look of pity on the waitress' face? She must see it on me. Whatever it is that draws people to and away from one another. She must see it on my body, hear it in my voice, smell it in my scent, I am wrong at the core. I wasn't meant for this, somehow I was meant for something else. Something grander, less tainted by the shallowness with which this waitress glances upon me, regreting she ever applied to work at a place where she had to put up with men such as myself. I would like to apologize to her, thank her for her selfless service, her courage in asking to pour coffee. But at the same time I want to spit on her shoes for having the audacity for feeling sorry for me, who am I to be pittied by her?
"Are you sure?"
"No sure...uhh..I mean, yes sure."
Take a breath you dumb *******, can't you see you've fouled it all up? All of it, you're entire life. First you dropped out of high school, but you got your GED, big deal anyone can do that, you had some balls going to community college, I'll give you that, but you were run outta town in less than a week. You couldn't even get your pathetic cashier's job by yourself, your brother had to hold your hand and pull some strings so you wouldn't end up an alcoholic on the streets. And now you're screwing this up, get ahold of yourself you good for nothing socially inept scumbag.
"No, I wouldnt like any coffee."
Why is she lingering, my God what is she going to ask? I can see her lips parting, her tongue straining in preparation for some idiotic subject of conversation, can't she tell all I want is to be left alone?
"Well, call me if you need anything."
She has a nice butt. I wish I could be with her, I wish she would come back so we could talk about some complete drivel. I can't help but love her, we haven't ever said more then a few words to one another, but God knows I love her.
Im sick of it, all of it. I hate it all and I wish it would stop. The pressure in my forhead, the frustration that plagues my every moment. I wish I didn't exist, I wish I had never existed, I should end it. Hell I should have ended it sooner, what am I waiting for? Some miracle, a miracle that will never come. I am too hopeful, I need to stop being so naive and wise up to the world. Screw the waitress, even if she knew she could never understand any of it. I need to pay, who is working the cash register? Oh crap not that guy, I'll do it in five minutes.

85 Posts
Discussion Starter · #4 ·

"Heaven is resonant with trumpet blasts and chiming winds, the world is filled with cherry blossoms and cocklebur, hell overflows with sulfur and glinting obsidian; but my mind is full of the euphoric melodies of pertrified bloomings which eminate the most eloquent concertos that maul my soul and weaken my mind. When I stay in heaven they call me light headed, when I come into this world they mock me with the words of psychologists and when I descend into the pits of hell they call me wicked for smiling upon the damned with sympathetic words."
"Please?" She strained to detach my hand from the nape of her neck. I pulled her closer to my face.
"Please what?"
"Loosen the ropes, please." She winced as I let go of her neck with a grunt.
"Why? Can't you endure a little pain? Can't you see me in front of you, why can't you see the pain that I've been through? Why has it been invisible to the entire world all this time? Well now you can feel my pain..they all can."
"I don't know what you're talking about, please." She said wriggling underneath the ropes.
"What? Mercy? You claim to want mercy but I can see your soul, I can see the fire in your heart. But you, you're blind like them, a mole, you're just a mole."
"Please, I did nothing to you."
"Nothing to me? Nothing to me...Can't you see I am beautiful? My soul sings and sweeps in the most vibrant shades, can't you see that? Why can't you see that? You remind me of the devil."
"What?" She squinted at me through the dark, pretending to be interested and wanting to see my face, but she couldn't want that.
"I had a conversation with the devil once, I was in cleveland. I was their for a conference, but it got cancelled due to some...beauracratic bull****, or a storm or something, I don't remember. But I missed my ride so I had to walk to a bus stop in the rain, and when I got there this old man was already waiting. At first I was put off by him, he was all wet like me and he reminded me of a helpless child. He kept shivering and coughing. I could tell he was homeless because he smelled like urine and had a bottle with him. When he saw me eyeing his drink-"
She began sobbing in an unbareable screech which immediately sent fury into my eyes.
"Can't you see I'm telling a story!? What is wrong with you? Shut up or I wont tell you the rest, and I'll keep you up all night. Now, as I was saying I was eyeing the old bum's drink. He offered me some in a slurred tongue and being a wreck myself I accepted and after I handed the drink back he told me he was Satan. Which I know is a strange thing to believe right off the bat, but something about his speech left no doubt...he was Satan."
"What'd he say?" She asked, still scared of my threat to keep her awake.
"Can't you see I am beautiful?"
"Thats what Satan asked me, I couldn't come up with an answer. When the bus came I got on, and he just kept sitting there and as the bus drove away I looked back at him and someone else was beside him."
I approached her again and grabbed her by the neck,

"You're beautiful, and so was he and so am I."
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