::12:02:07::

::: Half Shoo, No Soul :::

Cigarette after cigarette, we sat there under the lamppost and promised that we’d be part of each other’s lives for as long as we lived. At first I hated her. Then I lusted for her. Then I wanted to kill her as she wanted to die for reasons other than a passion for life. There was a misunderstanding about what the rules were to swat a fly that wouldn’t go away. The spider caught the fly first. Now what could she do? It’s size was of none to compare to that of hers. Lies there waiting for the next fly to swat. Quietly.

Should she get up and go sedate her impatience while the intersecting lines try to even themselves out. It appears to be. Her flickering candle wilted and was put out by its own wax as we ran far away from her spite.

She called out but her legs wouldn’t move fast enough to catch up to the guy that she thought she saw. Running in the wrong direction has always been her claim to fame.

Too many flies kept her obsessed with what was driving her mad. Now they buzz around her cold body and demean her obsession. Because the warmth of her heart can now safely escape without stirring her demons out of their eternal slumber. Drive away all that was once pure into a bottle floating out to see and you shall have what you want--freedom to express what you were trying to say when you were walking around in feet bound in ice and a heart pumping fire through lines filled with rocket fuel delivered to you for the greenbacks you stole from those that earned it for you. It was yours but you stole it anyway. They were all yours but you lied to yourself and tried to hoard the fruits of your icy womb.

No understanding can replace the confusion that has draped the eyes to your eternal darkness dwelling there in the cold and remorseless soul. You delivered three and killed one that the three would have done anything to see replant the seeds of life. You poisonous b*tch. How dare you call yourself a mother.

Written by: ~ Kevin C. Kent