An Injection Of Fate
An Injection Of Fate
A girl speaks quietly into the ear of her loved one as he lies gripping her dress. Torn by a grip so potent and desperate, his eyes darting and drenched in crimson. She stands above, tears dripping so sluggish, her sadness reeks of pain. Man made water wets the ground, tainted in an overcoat of mascara. She bleeds for him, bashing her head off brick wall refusing to budge, she in confused, she is falling into a plight so profound, lacking the strength to claw her way out. She’s frozen standing in silence, halted by a shock so relentless, striking through her veins, curdling her blood, blood lacking warmth and energy. Her eyes drenched by the substantial tears she has wept, she is all out, crying her last collection.
The pills strewn across the floor, the needle still fitted professionally in her lover’s helpless frame. An arm that felt bliss and comfort from such a superficial cause. She looks at him slipping into gods hands; his scarred, battered chamber is now an ornament, useless and lifeless. He’s dead, broken, his sole ripped from under her nose. God latches onto him, uplifting him to a better lookout, taking him to a world lacking disregard, taking him away from the human assault that immorally downgraded him.
She prayed for this to be a dream, a nightmare she could awake from. Still bashing her globe off a wall already bludgeoned. Her angel face dirty, far from the immaculate freshness her lover lapped up. She was a figure, entertaining the devil, her tears and sadness added a dimension to a show Satan was craving and quite rightly welcomed, he sat sipping the blood of a thousand lost lives. She came down on her knees, screaming tension, bowing her head in disbelief, shaking her corroded mind in agony. She elevated from a ground splashed in blood, sweat, and tears. She rang 999, adrenaline rushing through a cognition sanctioned off from a World, she had given up on. The other end sounded busy, distorted, as a fresh voice became a relieve.
The tone was refreshing, but she couldn’t communicate, her voice seemed muted, her tongue malfunctioned in the midst of a vital time. She gave up on her vocal range and hung up the chord that could resolve a situation beyond her solving capabilities. Bringing down her World, she burrowed her lovers illegally compacted pockets for an injection to withdraw her presence from a life she loathed and never fully respected. The brown coloured liquid was a supplement to put her into a sleep, a watered down version of poison, strong enough to plough and rid her from pain.
Time steadied, slowly ticking by, not rushing, morning was a long time off. It seemed miles away, darkness just seemed to parade a home impaled in heartbreak and lost love. Never dwelling, the girl’s trembling arm was ready to bare the injection of subtlety, life was dreadfully slivering away from a human that could have basked in promise. She slumped to the floor, her eyes zoned in on a kit designed by evil. She pierced her natural silky overlay, gasping, panting, and shaking. It hit her like a train, streaming through her, attacking her already tarnished nerves, she was ready to be carried by god’s overused tools, lying beside her lover, and she found enough courage and stretch to clasp hands. As she slipped away. Finally the pain withered away, finally she could rest.
By Mark McConville
I don’t usually write stuff like this, hope it didn’t offend anyone.
A girl speaks quietly into the ear of her loved one as he lies gripping her dress. Torn by a grip so potent and desperate, his eyes darting and drenched in crimson. She stands above, tears dripping so sluggish, her sadness reeks of pain. Man made water wets the ground, tainted in an overcoat of mascara. She bleeds for him, bashing her head off brick wall refusing to budge, she in confused, she is falling into a plight so profound, lacking the strength to claw her way out. She’s frozen standing in silence, halted by a shock so relentless, striking through her veins, curdling her blood, blood lacking warmth and energy. Her eyes drenched by the substantial tears she has wept, she is all out, crying her last collection.
The pills strewn across the floor, the needle still fitted professionally in her lover’s helpless frame. An arm that felt bliss and comfort from such a superficial cause. She looks at him slipping into gods hands; his scarred, battered chamber is now an ornament, useless and lifeless. He’s dead, broken, his sole ripped from under her nose. God latches onto him, uplifting him to a better lookout, taking him to a world lacking disregard, taking him away from the human assault that immorally downgraded him.
She prayed for this to be a dream, a nightmare she could awake from. Still bashing her globe off a wall already bludgeoned. Her angel face dirty, far from the immaculate freshness her lover lapped up. She was a figure, entertaining the devil, her tears and sadness added a dimension to a show Satan was craving and quite rightly welcomed, he sat sipping the blood of a thousand lost lives. She came down on her knees, screaming tension, bowing her head in disbelief, shaking her corroded mind in agony. She elevated from a ground splashed in blood, sweat, and tears. She rang 999, adrenaline rushing through a cognition sanctioned off from a World, she had given up on. The other end sounded busy, distorted, as a fresh voice became a relieve.
The tone was refreshing, but she couldn’t communicate, her voice seemed muted, her tongue malfunctioned in the midst of a vital time. She gave up on her vocal range and hung up the chord that could resolve a situation beyond her solving capabilities. Bringing down her World, she burrowed her lovers illegally compacted pockets for an injection to withdraw her presence from a life she loathed and never fully respected. The brown coloured liquid was a supplement to put her into a sleep, a watered down version of poison, strong enough to plough and rid her from pain.
Time steadied, slowly ticking by, not rushing, morning was a long time off. It seemed miles away, darkness just seemed to parade a home impaled in heartbreak and lost love. Never dwelling, the girl’s trembling arm was ready to bare the injection of subtlety, life was dreadfully slivering away from a human that could have basked in promise. She slumped to the floor, her eyes zoned in on a kit designed by evil. She pierced her natural silky overlay, gasping, panting, and shaking. It hit her like a train, streaming through her, attacking her already tarnished nerves, she was ready to be carried by god’s overused tools, lying beside her lover, and she found enough courage and stretch to clasp hands. As she slipped away. Finally the pain withered away, finally she could rest.
By Mark McConville
I don’t usually write stuff like this, hope it didn’t offend anyone.
Wow this is Deep stuff Mark.
I think its great. you have good wrriting skills.
*hugs*
Great Blog <3
Rain, October 20th, 2008 at 08:51:07pm