Think I’ve stayed the same. They don’t half the shit I’ve done and said. They don’t know the real me. I’ve changed, and I promise you, I am nowhere near as pretty on the inside as I used to be.
(Source: cynful-spyres)
Born from the neck, gaping wide
Rifts from ear to ear
And a small pink tie
Elegantly he marches into the room
Adorned with small red pearls
Bile forces its way out
As his parents wretch in horror
The wings of an angel
Sprouting from his back
He sees his reflection
In the pool beneath his feet
Suddenly collapsing to the floor
And his parents scream in denial
A young man sits at a table with a mirror for a surface. He is at a party, in a room with some friends who are either making out, or stoned out of their minds. Before him on the table sit six things. First comes the dollar bill, second, the carabiner, next, the razor blade, finally, there are three pills. One can guess what he does next. He begins by cutting the pills into small sections. Next, he puts them onto the dollar bill and folds it in half. Holding the edges f the bill, he runs the carabiner over it, crushing the pills to a fine powder. He scrapes the illicit dust onto the mirror and cuts it into a line. He rolls the dollar bill and puts it up and back. As he bends down and pinches off the opposite nostril he sees himself in the table. He contemplates his situation for a minute or so. Finally, he reaches a decision. He stands up, and pulls up his sweatshirt sleeve. He grabs the razor blade, and slits his wrists. He holds the dripping surface of his arm over the line. As the blood begins to drip, he begins to finish his carving. Slowly spelled out, in sickeningly red letters, is the phrase “Die Hard”. He walks out of the room to a resounding chorus of utter silence. And fades into the darkness of the house. The next day at school, he walks through the halls, short sleeves and bloody arms. All of his friends, remembering the party, pretend not to see the cuts. But everyone knows they are there.
The Femoral Artery
