The paperbag over my head held the stench of stale blood.
Legs apart for balance, shoulders low for maximum force, death grip on a cold and heavy lead pipe, an empty heart prepared for a bloodbath…
The paperbag still smelled of blood…
Mind empty for the anticipated assault. Hands numb, incoming for the kill. Legs flying with pent up energy… Weightless as I danced the dance of death…
the dust settles…
The paper bag is torn to shreds…
Might as well get a new one…
1 year ago
[freefall] anything goes...: a thought from the whorls of insanity...
Today I succumbed to the spirals of my emotional self… and as I was ”chatting” with a good friend of mine, he suddenly popped this one question… “Define Life?” The words hit me like a blizzard during summer. For half a minute, my mind raced like a turtle on flypaper. Out of their own accord, My…
I asked him.. to define LIFE

Following
Facebook
Twitter