Thursday, March 06, 2008

eventually....

Untitled

The shot woke him up, as usual. She slept on, oblivious. He pulled the sheet off him…the stench of sweat and the slickness of his orgasm sickened him. Insides writhing, he stumbled to the bathroom, knelt in front of his toilet seat and puked - nothing came, as usual – till the inside of his throat bled with the strain. Stifling a gag, he got up and swore – swore at himself, at her, and at every fucking thing he could think of at that point. The tap squeaked open; the cold water felt good on his face. He looked at the guy staring at him from the mirror. The gaunt, wasted features, the nail marks, the pools of black around his eyes, the thoughts stunned him into the merest semblance of sentience. He spat out the rest of the blood and walked back into the bedroom. Then he blacked out…

It’s so fucking dark…every fucking muscle in my body screaming fucking murder…shit, what have I stuck my prick into this time? Fucking asshole bartender let me drink too much again…Jesus! I need a light fucking bad. Why? Where the fuck did it all turn to this? I should never have been fucking born…ah fuck it! I need to fucking get high. Here we go…

He lit up and lay back in his chair, way back, trying to sink into it, into oblivion. Fuck, now he needed a drink… three fucking a.m. and he needed a fucking drink…vodka! Christ, what he really needed was her…but that wasn’t going to fucking happen now was it? He couldn’t help thinking about her though. He always did. There was just something about her, about everything she said and did and thought…she liked vodka as well, and they both liked what happened after the vodka; her calling out his name because that was the only thing she could think of, the way she moaned when he entered her, the way her lips and her body arched in a rictus of pain and pleasure as they were both on the verge, her smell, her taste, every inch of skin on her body, the way they drank and smoked afterwards, exhausted, the way she put out her cigarette on his chest, leant close to him and whispered in his ear ‘now fuck me!’ the way they made love after that, the way he just sat and watched her every morning before she woke up and the way they made love again and again and again when she did…

Fuck, it was killing him. Why the fuck did she have to leave? Just leave him alone and go away, without giving him a reason…it was nearing their anniversary. He knew something was wrong because she wouldn’t let him kiss her. But after all that had happened, he didn’t think she’d do what she did. He asked her to stay the night simply because he wouldn’t live through it otherwise. He was angry and scared and sad and alone, and he wanted her so fucking badly. She wouldn’t let him touch her…and he couldn’t even cry himself to sleep. So he’d just gone ahead.

He’d sat down in the chair, the very chair he was sitting down now, lit up and watched her, he watched her all night. He was still watching her as the rays of the sun came in through the window and fell on her cold, dead body. Her eyes were closed as if in sleep, as if there was no ragged hole in the back of her head, no bullet that was still in there somewhere, no blood soaking the sheets and dripping onto the floor. She looked so fucking beautiful. He smiled because she lay where she deserved…on a bed of roses, red as blood.

He had smiled then as he wept now, his face buried in his hands, his body twitching with the sobs that he was trying so desperately to suppress, shaken to stillness by one last, shuddering sigh. He got up. The gun was in the top drawer, where he had left it…it still had her dried blood on it. He kissed it tenderly and pulled the trigger. Her eyes opened for a second, an expression of mild surprise on her face, and then it was all over. He took a wad of cash out of his wallet and laid it on her body.

She’s down there, waiting for me…so far away, and she’s going to go. No, I can’t let her. There’s some fuckstick banging away at the door. What’s his problem so fucking early in the morning? Fuck him, he can wait. I need to get to her now. O baby, wait, I’m coming…please wait. And so I step out of the window, arms stretched out. I’m going to be in her arms any minute now. Fuck, I love her…I love her so much

9 Comments:

Blogger Thomas Sebastian said...

If this is a figment of your imagination, then you would probably be a good writer who can conjure posts out of thin air. If it is not so , then you are probably a screwed up young engineering student in an arbit engg college in kerala, which is obviously where you and I are.

00:50  
Blogger g-man said...

tyvm...n well, its kinda the figment thingy, tho i do see a bit of myself in the guy :D mainly because i luv vodka and really used to luv marlboro (i kinda quit) yay for us screwed up ppl then eh? na, this is just d way i write wen i'm pissed off

08:31  
Blogger cain l337pwn3r said...

itha martyeyum kaalum kollavunnennu thonunnu....marty oru mannangattayum manassilayilla

07:56  
Blogger g-man said...

fucker!!!

i still can't believe I wrote marty

12:06  
Blogger c.H.a.O.s FrEaK said...

aah ...aaaaah ...aaaaaaaaarggh...uh ah.


umm hmm !that explains it !!

23:05  
Blogger g-man said...

eh? could you be a little bit more elaborate and/or explicit?

17:53  
Blogger fantasia said...

gud one...
leaves an impact...

19:24  
Blogger g-man said...

o0o thanks

20:20  
Blogger cain l337pwn3r said...

naa i was wrong...martys waaaaaaaaaay better...this is just plain twisted.........

19:19  

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