(no subject)
I felt drained before I wrote it, so it probably blows. Anyways, comment with any suggestions or criticism.
'Rocky Racoon'
.. It was like starring into a sand timer, a sand timer that never stopped. I was compelled to turn it over once the sand from the top had vanished and appeared on the bottom, I couldn’t stop.
Moaning some at the bright light in my eyes, the sunlight hit me like cancer. Piercing threw the window shades and cutting its scar into my eyes, similar to when you look straight at the sun and then look at the world around you. You see a small yellow blob of light, just floating there. It goes away after a few minutes, just a few minutes, it wasn’t much. It was just like that, and once I turned over in my bed, looking at the lamp. That yellow blob was there, just hanging there, as if held on by wires. “Just like my life” I would say sometimes, “Held on by wires, yeah…” my voice was soft and content and my eyes were closed shut, but I could still see that blob of yellow light…
Hours after I had gotten out of bed and dressed myself, the mirror stared at me like a deer caught in front of the flood lights. “I’m going to hell…” I said to the man in the mirror that copied my motions and maybe even my speech. I saw myself, standing there, in front of that dirty mirror, which I had no desire to clean. Splashing water on my face and giving myself a fresh, raw shave. I blinked and when I opened my eyes, I had discovered a rip in my chin. Blood dripped and fell into the sink, the almost silent tapping sound of the blood hitting the sink echoed throughout the hotel room. “This wasn’t something I wanted…” I said to myself as I watched another day speed ahead of me. My pistol, which was placed on the dusty bed side table, was calling out my name. I never could get over that young pistol.
Another day, another night, another twenty four hours wasted. Laughter and loving words faded down the dark hotel halls, from young lovers, that were never really lovers, just fakers. “A big faker… Just like me” my voice echoed threw my silent room. Minutes later, sounds spilled out of the radio and into the air, replacing the dark and cold feeling of hate with the powerful, warm feeling of love. Not only did I have regrets, but I also had a pistol, both being the same thing in the long run. “I don’t believe I am here, out of pure vengeance” I said to myself, starring into the mirror, it had become my best friend while the sand timer was counting down.
Nothing was said as I walked down that dark hotel hall, no young fakers, or old lovers mumbling love poems to each other, they were all at the theatre, which was conveniently placed inside this labyrinth of a hotel. This was where I would get what I most dearly needed, a dead rival and a young maiden…
'Rocky Racoon'
.. It was like starring into a sand timer, a sand timer that never stopped. I was compelled to turn it over once the sand from the top had vanished and appeared on the bottom, I couldn’t stop.
Moaning some at the bright light in my eyes, the sunlight hit me like cancer. Piercing threw the window shades and cutting its scar into my eyes, similar to when you look straight at the sun and then look at the world around you. You see a small yellow blob of light, just floating there. It goes away after a few minutes, just a few minutes, it wasn’t much. It was just like that, and once I turned over in my bed, looking at the lamp. That yellow blob was there, just hanging there, as if held on by wires. “Just like my life” I would say sometimes, “Held on by wires, yeah…” my voice was soft and content and my eyes were closed shut, but I could still see that blob of yellow light…
Hours after I had gotten out of bed and dressed myself, the mirror stared at me like a deer caught in front of the flood lights. “I’m going to hell…” I said to the man in the mirror that copied my motions and maybe even my speech. I saw myself, standing there, in front of that dirty mirror, which I had no desire to clean. Splashing water on my face and giving myself a fresh, raw shave. I blinked and when I opened my eyes, I had discovered a rip in my chin. Blood dripped and fell into the sink, the almost silent tapping sound of the blood hitting the sink echoed throughout the hotel room. “This wasn’t something I wanted…” I said to myself as I watched another day speed ahead of me. My pistol, which was placed on the dusty bed side table, was calling out my name. I never could get over that young pistol.
Another day, another night, another twenty four hours wasted. Laughter and loving words faded down the dark hotel halls, from young lovers, that were never really lovers, just fakers. “A big faker… Just like me” my voice echoed threw my silent room. Minutes later, sounds spilled out of the radio and into the air, replacing the dark and cold feeling of hate with the powerful, warm feeling of love. Not only did I have regrets, but I also had a pistol, both being the same thing in the long run. “I don’t believe I am here, out of pure vengeance” I said to myself, starring into the mirror, it had become my best friend while the sand timer was counting down.
Nothing was said as I walked down that dark hotel hall, no young fakers, or old lovers mumbling love poems to each other, they were all at the theatre, which was conveniently placed inside this labyrinth of a hotel. This was where I would get what I most dearly needed, a dead rival and a young maiden…