The End, Unhappily Ever After

Mindless silence, numbing paralysis, wasted space, amazing how one can feel all things yet nothing at the same time, even more amazing how one can look at everything yet never truly see anything.  Closed eyes, dim light shimmering upon tear spiked lashes, haunted visions of what had been, should have been and could have been.  Premonitions of what had come to pass spectral entities floating here, there and everywhere, everyone rushing about seeming to have something or someone to go to.

Yet idle drumming of fingers upon a desk for lack of anything better to do.  Loser apparitions, the very essence of manic depressive, twisted views upon a sordid sense of reality.  Not good enough, never was, never could be and never would be, typical of the sinister side of life's cruel tricks.  Hopeful turns to hopeless as all faint traces of happiness become mere figments of a newly acquired wild imagination.

Was there ever really any happiness?  Highly doubtful, as one is not lucky enough to truly know what the deepest meaning of happiness is.  Stuck between living and dying, only one thought left and it isn't anymore rational then telling every poor sap that there is a Heaven with golden streets and pearly gates where there is no suffering.

That's it just prolong their pain, their hatred, their rage, their feelings of not being good enough when everyone knows that they have don't have one iota of a hell's chance of getting anywhere that is supposedly that rich in splendor.  For if they couldn't afford it here, in this life, and then how the hell do you expect them to be able to afford such luxuries in death?

Then again who is to say that Hell is so fiendish when Hell on Earth is like a zillion times worse for the desperation only grows until your mind, your body, your soul is literally crawling with it, poisoning a mind, sickening a soul, severing any filament of sanity that is left say good by to rationale.

As the flashing silver moves with skillful precision, having made this trek so many times before, the blade seems to move of it's own accord as if possessed, when in truth it had been taken over but not by a soul, as that left long a long time ago.  With the parting of flesh, two halves easily separating much like one would carve into a block of wood, each cut, and each new shave made with delicate precision, the red sea flows over.

Silent lips, pressed into a thin line, deeply concentration, as a twin dam was smashed open allowing the sister crimson river to spill over it's banks, flooding, rushing, breathing in, breathing out.  With one final intake of breath one learns to use the last of their strength to bend over, grab their ankles, stick their head between their knees and kiss their *** goodbye as this is the ending unhappily ever after.

UselessTidbits UselessTidbits
31-35, F
Mar 4, 2010