Burning Hair and Love Affairs
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I think I'm addicted...cause I can feel this pulling...pulling my stomach up toward my mouth. And sooner or later, I'm going ot vomit out spaghetti strings of words I should have spit at you when I had the chance. They won't stick, of course, cause they were never thought out all the way. I noticed my passion burns too fast, like a fuse. And I always try to hold onto things too long, instead of throwing them like I should. No wonder things explode in my face. The smoke will clear, but it takes a long time to get the smell of burning hair out of your nostrils. Eventually, you get used to it. And I followed you that day. Limping and bruised and bleeding, but enjoying the ache. I shuffled with the leaves that were blown in the wind til you stopped in the park. I hid behind a car and saw you crawl into that yellow tube, hear the sniffing noises and your gags. I thought about screaming. I thought about throwing myself into the car head first until I passed out. I thought.... Well. I walked across the park to your death trap. I know you heard me, because you jumped out like nothing was wrong. Then you saw my face. My blood. I saw that ring of white in your nose. That dulls his pain- He dulls mine I thought, and smiled. "I thought you were a gentleman," I pouted. "Ladies first," you said, and stepped to the side, bowing. Two white lines lay, beckoning me forward. My light at the end of the tunnel. I heard you chuckle. Well, I've sold my soul to the devil now I mumbled as I inhaled our heaven. . . . . . . . . . . I think I'm addicted. And sooner or later, this WILL blow up in my face. But I'm starting to like the smell of burnt hair and.... Well, I love you.

Submitted on 2008-09-29 17:55:08     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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