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a snippet [30 Aug 2004|11:58pm]

fubar_anduknowy
[ mood | contemplative ]

iv been writing htsi story, ok, ansd i just wanted ur commments (if possible) on a little bit of it...

'Sitting on the bus Tommy made no attempt to hold back the tears. He pulled his hood over his face and simply allowed them to flow, he hoped secretly that the tears would each take a slice of emotion with them and drain him free of the torment. He didn’t care what the other kids thought, he simply wanted the pain to stop. Why wouldn’t the pain stop? It felt like a weight in his lap, lead in his veins and acid in his heart. As the bus arced its way through the morning suburban traffic towards the busy city a few miles away Tommy was lost in his memories, immersing himself in the things he had felt and done...'

is the language right? the sentacne structure? am i geting the feeling accross? let me know.
j
o
n
o

2 idea - ideas?

i am redemption [13 Jun 2004|10:39pm]
discontention
i looked at my reflection in the mirror. the person looking back at me was either 32 and divorced or 22 with a drinking problem. i wish it was the former of the two, but wishes rarely ever come true.
i walked back to the living room to see 9 dead soldiers staring me in the face. i finished the bottle in my hand and placed it on the table: 10 dead soldiers. this was dissaster by design.
ideas?

[13 Jun 2004|10:39pm]
discontention
i long to see rust colored powder flake of my hands and turn back to red as i run my hands under the cold tap water. erasing the evidence. removing what is left of you from my hands.

....this is a dedication to no one. thanks for everything.
ideas?

[13 Jun 2004|10:38pm]
discontention
where has playing it safe ever gotten you anyways? well, it's gotten me right here, right now...and to be perfectly honset, i'm rather quite sick of it. if i believed in angels, i would swear you were here to rescue me...but thinking like that is just another excercise in futility. the sound of your voice is on the verge of destroying all my deceptions. this is me killing me for you, are you happy? cause it's the least i can do...the last thing i will ever do for you. i have nothing left to give you, but you know what, you can take that too.
ideas?

[13 Jun 2004|10:36pm]
discontention
"take it."
"what is it?"
"it's my last bullet..."
"what do you want me to do with it?"
"what ever you want....but i'm going to turn my back now and walk away. if you hate me as much as you say you do, i'm sure you'll make good use of it."
"don't put any preassure on me or anything..."
"perfect eyes will have perfect aim..."
"what? have you gone mad?"
"not yet, but i think i am close."
"that's too bad..."
"...or it could all be for the better."
"shoot for the best right?"
"no pun intended, huh?"
"would you quit it already?"
"i thought we already quit, or gave up, or whatever you called it..."
"it doesn't mean we can't still get along like we used to. you know, like be fri..."
"...ends and stuff?? bloody hell."
"what?"
"fuck...it's like killing your dog and...and still expecting it to play fetch."
"what the hell kind of analogy is that?"
"fuck if i know..."
"where are you going?"
"out, away, somewhere not here, over yonder...why do you care so much all of a sudden??"
"you know i always cared."
"you sure have a shitty way of showing it."
"why are you doing this?"
"...because i can??"
"why do you have to be such a smart ass all the time?"
"cause i'm good at it?"
"jesus..."
"...at least i am good at something."
"..."
"i'm leaving now..."
"you know i stil lov..."
"...yeah. sure. have a nice life..."


A nice life?
My life was nothing but friends not yet distanced and mistakes not yet made. I was a societal burnout, a social arsonist. I couldn't leave town without burning all the bridges, waiting for them to be rebuilt and secretly compromising their foundations with poisoned words and actions a la saboteur.
I stood quietly on the riverbank letting the wind flip my hair askew. It danced on end in darkness and finally laid down flat.
ideas?

[13 Jun 2004|10:28pm]
discontention
My eyes opened a crack and I stared blankly at the wall in front of me. The glowing of the white paint hurt my eyes as it reflected the morning sun in my general direction (I swear my walls and the sun were in some sort of scheme to spite me). I groaned and half stretched as I slowly rolled over and looked longingly at the girl on the pillow next to me. I whispered ever so quietly and into the morning air and lightly ran my finger across her face. She didn’t move. She never did. By now my fingerprints are littered all over the picture of her face that she sent me last summer. Although it’s only been as of late that I hold the picture and stare at it every night before I go to bed just to wake up next to her every morning. It was moments like these I wished more than ever she didn’t live so far away (I swear the gods did this just to spite me).
The refreshing steam and hot water of the shower felt especially lacklustre this morning. I guess there’s something’s we do out of routine and not because they genuinely feel good or have any form of pleasure associated with them (like brushing your teeth). The shower was another moment in my life that could be slotted under the ‘unfulfilling orgasm’ column. That column seemed to have contain a much longer list than it’s counterpart. But I’m young, things can change. Old people love to tell you this.
My key hit the lock and I heard the deadbolt smack into place. I jammed my keys into my pocket and left the building. Again the sun was out to spite me as it glared brighter of the snow than it ever could off my bedroom wall. I didn’t really think it was possible and I was forced to stumble along with eyes barely open to the world around me. I kicked the piece or garbage in front of my feet and watched it twist and turn as it skittered down the street and finally came to a gentle rest against the curb. As I stumbled along I stared at what I had just kicked. A small needle in what was a sterilized package until it had been so brutally ripped open and left for dead. Wonderful. As I reached out to pick it up I wondered how many were laying around that young children had found earlier and used in childhood games of ‘war’ or ‘doctor’. the thought made me slightly queasy and so I pushed it from my mind. I pocketed the needle so I could throw it out somewhere a little safer when I finished walking the four blocks to work.
My place of employment was jammed full of patrons. It’s never full. The day I decide not to call and tell them I’ll be late it’s jammed full. Elbow to elbow. Lame high-school parties didn’t have this many people. Maybe it’s just busy cause the new guy is slow? Maybe. So I stripped off my sweater and helped clean up the sewage that was oozing through the building. Forty-five minutes later and we seemed to be in the clear so I fetched my book and took my usual perch at the counter and proceed to get paid to read. I made a mental note to thanks rob for lending me this book and to tell jodie to read it. This book would be right up her alley.
The new guy stood there staring at me stupidly. I almost opened my mouth to give him something to do but decided I didn’t want to waste the energy. He’ll find a way to keep himself entertained I’m sure. They always do. His boredom wasn’t really my problem anyways. Besides, the pregnant couple that just walked in the door should keep him occupied for the next five minutes. The lady grabbed a bran muffin and asked if he could warm her muffin. The husband made some crude remark about that being his job and in my mind I reached out and smacked him full force across the head. No one noticed and she just laughed at his remark. What an annoying laugh that was. No longer did I think she was sort of cute. That laugh knocked her down a couple points and what she laughed at knocked her down a whole lot more.
Is that nickleback on the radio again? I guess even satellite radio is subject to playing the same crappy songs over and over again. It ended and on came outkast. I shook my head and turned my attention back to my book. I could only read two lines at a time before my mind would focus back on her. I missed her. No matter what I did or what I was thinking about, inevitably my thoughts always came back to her. Why did I like her so much? I don’t know, but I liked it. I wanted to be with her now more than ever. Over a year ago I met her and I always thought about her, but lately I couldn’t not think about her. I wished again she didn’t live so far away…..
There it was. The clock read four forty-five. Shift change in 15 minutes. I slid off my stool and packed everything into my backpack. I glanced again at the clock that glared at me from the face of the microwave. It now read four fifty. Where was adam? He should be here by now. I know he doesn’t start until five o’clock, but come on. It never hurt to be early now did it. And speak of the devil there he is walking in the door right now. Awesome. I yanked my yanked my sweater on and pulled the hood up to hide myself from the world at large. It was comforting. I didn’t even say anything to adam, I just grabbed my backpack, waved over my shoulder and walked out the door. I could hear him start to tell me to have a nice night before the slamming of the door cut him off. I stopped and stood on the step for a minute and breathed in the crisp winter air. I closed my eyes and turned my face to the sun then looked back at the path ahead of me. Four blocks and I can have my nap. Four blocks and I am safe and sound again. Four blocks and I am alone again with nothing but a picture. I watched my feet as I walked down the sidewalk. My mind wandered back again. I focused my mind on something else so I could refrain from the pain of being alone. So I counted doubles. I always do that. Two, four, eight, sixteen….I stepped out to cross the street….thirty-two, sixty-four, one-twenty-eight….I looked up. I should have looked up sooner. I should have looked before I stepped into the street. I should have been paying attention. Because the bitch driving the suv and talking on her cell-phone sure wasn’t. if it wasn’t winter. If it wasn’t for the ice. I probably would be okay. No such luck. Some people insist on calling it luck, the rest of us call it karma. What did I do that was so bad? Where did I go wrong?? I closed my eyes again and looked at the sun. I missed her more now than ever. And all I wanted was two baby girls. We had talked about it. Two girls. Twins…..alexis and reagan…..
ideas?

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