Reaping

[Fireman.exe]

I couldn't see passed the glass, the galaxy exploding in thin air as if know one even cared, what could I do being such a fool? I wrote myself a love letter, a spell I cast upon my breath something to last me forever, I sweep you up for my belonging, life without care is completeness that I long for, that I beg for...But to me it is all a show, a big round of applause for the winner, the guy in row C, who had the perfect job, who had the perfect son, everything was fine until he died, death is among us all, for it is clearly unmistakingly painless afterwards. The family moarns the lose, they didn't want it to happen, what is a part of life, a horrible view point is among them, a careless full who loves money, who drinks from the skys of honey filled trees, watch out for the bees foolish man.

Standing up for what he believes in, the nothingness of his believes, it doesn't mean anything to anyone else except him, it enters the craters of his dark mysterious soul of no depth or structure, he weeps out loud in the midnight air hoping for some sigh of relief, but in return he gets fire pits thrown in his heart, spikes reaching his arteries, his time has come and gone, he was a fly stuck in a cave of despair and complaints. Nothing really phases him, he only cares about himself, selfishness will get him nowhere, for his is nowhere in his heart, he knows he is nothing for he has ruined everything with his actions of a cold heartless soul of a man being. She wants him to know how she feels, but he ruined the feeling, he ruined the love, he ruined his happiness he is no more, he deserves nothing, but to be gone forever and to ponder on his heartless self. His heart beats faster and faster, as if a clock was beating against the oak wood of a grandfather clock that was an antique of his past life of heroics. He has trouble getting air through his pipes of life, knowing that all he wanted and cared for is over, he has nothing left to go on for, he takes it all in as if he was a sponge soaking up the blood of his victims, he has taken their lifes. He sits and waits for his punishment of cold bars and sleepless nights, he will see their faces go through his mind, over and over, he took both of their lifes, and now he will pay for it, he knows his soul will be in worse shape then his old worthless tired body, but he wants to make it better, but it is too late, there are no second chances for the beasts that lash out their anger and feelings like a animal without control of it's actions, it is not instincts, it is soulless actions.

Blazing blue comes from outside, he knows they have come for him, to take him away into a pit of darkness, where no light will enter, he has done terrible in the dark, now he shall suffer it all through in the darkness of a pit of a small cold cell. They see the blood filled carpet and hardwood floor, they know something against the wrath of god has happened tonight. They find him laying in a corner, shaking unstoppingly, as if he was having a stroke, attacking his heart little by little. They rush him to the E.R., not knowing what was wrong with him, they put an IV in him, shoving it in his veins like it was a needle of life for his lifesake. He stops breathing, the pathetic excuse for a human being looks to be dying a slow and painful death, one he deserves the upmost for. They bring out the paddles, the only thing keeping him from his maker, they charge it up as if it was the last option, as it was in this last attempt of desperation, if it works, he gets to enjoy his horrible cell, if it doesn't, he gets to enjoy damnation at it's finest, they want his soul, the demons want him, they enjoy seeing him suffer through it all, they laugh at his cries, they laugh at the thought of him dying a worse pain then drowning on blood. They shock him once, no response, clearly it is too late to any mortal eye, he has spent his time on earth, it has come to an end, he made it un-worth while, he deserves no ones pity for such disrespect of human nature and human life, he shall breath no more upon this green earth of hope and dreams. The second attempt to safe him is being prepared, if only they knew how much pain he has caused, they might not be so eager to save him, but everwell, the attempt has started, the zap him once more as if he was a rodent stuck in a wire, exploding it's insides as it bleeds out of it's ears. The attempt, somehow works, he breathes again, he is reborn, as if he had died and met his fate head on, but was grabbed by an unknown force, saving him from the horrible wrath that awaited him.

He is in stable condition, yet he knows it is not stable when they find out what he has commited, he awaits the return of the police men, who will surely find enough prove to throw him away where nothing is cared about, where criminals rote away for their lifetime. Tick tock, the time awaits for him, he gets nervous, as if a bomb had exploded in his heart, making him ill again, he calms down so he doesn't stroke out again, but does it matter? Wouldn't it be better then his skin rotting of his bones over his lifetime has a whole? Evermore, everless, he calms down and goes into a slumber. A softer tone goes through his thick, curly ears. It is the sound of a forgotten love, a mystery among men and beasts alike for their namesakes. They cry for mercy, to spare them once more, thus, he pays no attention to the mass, he blasts their futures into a steaming pot of wrath and destruction. He cannot take the screams, the screeching is unbearable to him, he can commit the abomination, but he cannot take the cries of the ones he used to cherish. The ones he used to hold close and near, to kiss them is but a distant past memory of no more and no less. He awakes in a sweat, enough sweat to drown the flies of his emotional refuge of hate, and anguish. The Policemen question him, asking him how he could commit such hainess acts against his cherished possessions of flesh. He has no answer, silent like the dead, night air. He knows there is no explaning, other then he did it, and he is a devil among theives and swine. They take him away to his grave, no more for him, the simple freedom he once took for granted, it is nothing but a regret now, not being able to walk freely, being able to slumber at any point in the dawn of the day, no more sky gazing upon the treetop, no more mountains to stare at gracefully, 'tis only a forgotten memory now.

Dreaming is his only escape now, until he dies from loneliness and pure fright of his former self. He dreams of his past life, when he was happy and free, when he watched him blow out candles, when he got married to her, the lovely memory in the back of his mind. But then he dreams of that night, that it all ended in bloodshed and horror, nothing to prevent it, for it has happened and will be forever more in the dust of time itself. He went mad, he raves to himself, he being his former self. How could he commit those acts, how could he take what I love, how could he steal my life underneath my breath? He asks himself, where did I go wrong to do such evil and thoughtless things? He went wrong when he decided to be a dark and loveless man, the kind of man that dies alone in his bed, has everything in the world, except anyone to share it with. He took the knife, running up the stairs, but quietly enough not to wake a soul of earth, any type of species upon the planet. He goes in her room and sits by her bedside, she is in a beauty sleep, as glorious as a summer night, as glorious as a flower in the sunlight. But he has decided to end that, he takes the knife and plunges it into her, breaking her heart little by little. He wants her to suffer, as he has suffered through her. She would never lay with another man again, he was determined to make that true and without deception. Repeatly he plunges into her chest, blood begins to drop on the silk, smooth sheet. She tries to scream, but has no more power left to even whimper in the moment of disaster. He has taken her, but he is not finished yet, he must take what she took from him, he tears out her heart, and places it on the fireplace as if it was a award for bravery and strength. He walks in the room, a little boy, pure and without worries. He awoke to the sound of his mother being slaughtered by the heartless being he knew as father. He asks what has happened, not knowing the extint of the horrible situation. Father freaks, wondering what he should do, he ends up doing the unspeakable, the most evil thing he could do, take what they made together. He knocks him out with the blunt side of the Knife, and puts him on the bed beside his mom, as if he was a offering to the power of vengeance. He slowly stabs him through his neck, cutting his oxygen from this world. Slowly and slowly, he suffocates to death, but he isn't done there, he slices his neck off like a piece of roasted, fresh pork. He awakes from his dream, screaming from the horror that he had commited, as if he was sorry for all the things he had done to them. It is not good enough, he must be punished for his crime. He sits for years and years, getting older and older like a oak tree on a hill top. The punishment is death, and hell followed with it.

[Lozal]

I loved it. All your stories/poems are awesome. But this one...it's my favorite. By far.