In that dream that made you... by Skillessbasterd

In that Dream that Made You
(A Quiet Prayer, A Distant Dream)

Within the boundries of perfection it is hard to see a reasoning beyond what is held close. The colors that paint the scenery around are subjective to the scars that paint the iris that collapses perception. They swirl around the visions that are sewn, the distances that are stitched together in such swift motions. It is nonsense. If it doesn't make sense in a passing glance then of course it is nonsense.

It is not a matter of right and wrong, divine or blasphemous, it is a matter of skillfull illusionment. If the mirror can see a smile then it will project one as well. With the scenery subjected to such visions the suicidal lust that swells in the scars of your iris can not be seen as it is oozing like puss, yellow sticky puss that will surely concentrate during moments of comfort. Tears to rinse it out. So that a dillusional paradox may be created in dreams of fantastic emotion.

It is far more guarded, it is far more safe. It is far more comfortable to be surrounded by egocentricly charged waters of misinterpreted metaphor. Safety is not wished for and a savior is not called upon as it distorts itself in the longing of inner proclimations that then only confess a frightened child tethered to calamity for fear of diffrence in perception. Today is forever. when midnight comes in all moments. When the brightest hours are pushed by fears of change. Darkness is safe, darkness is constant.

The eye is never resting because the visions are being stitched and torn by perception, it will be clearer when the wounds heal, it will look pretty with a colored contact lense to hide the past that never existed to others perceptions.

It is hard to see the world as flawed in chains of perfection.

It is hard to see the world flawed as perfect.

It is hard to see the world.

It is hard to see the world with doo drop distorions welling in the pupils of visionary proclimations. When the world is but a word and there is no true connection but with filth and distance then we all need bifocles and it becomes a matter of intentional shortage to those who need a larger prophit margin. the perception may not be stolen as the mirage has been borrowed. The perscription code is to long to be read,even if sleep is never to return, and there is no spool of paper with enough ambition to transpose it's code onto.

You can not explain a color you have never seen.

Yet somehow if it where possible to rename the colors we own into our own set of groupings then it may be easier to draw this figure with a clarity that others may interpret in a more comprimisable disagreement. Then perhaps the colors that we hold already may lead us to more, and we shall paint it across truths, and disturb the lies into suicide.

It is hard to see the world when you are crying.

It is hard to see the word crying

It is hard to see the world

It is hard to see the world when tear drop confessions sink to the bottom of what's been "swallowed down". For too long has running from effort and burden managed to create a presence based on absence. It is hard to understand what has not been said. One can not splash nerve signals onto paper and expect the world to get the message in the sightless visions.

It is hard to see myself as the world is so happy

It is hard to see myself so happy

Is it just hard to see myself?

Chapter 14

Before this dream, this nightmare, before this lie started there was a beautiful reality. Innocent, pure, and whatever other bullshit sappy word you can insert in there to make your giant heart swell up. Yeah before the drugs and lies and pain it was just the story of a boy and a girl. Before this was something to overcome this little tale was something to wallow in. Something that you would want to curl up to when you have no date for Valentines Day. You could have sat by your gas operated fireplace with a pint of the most fattening ice cream and lost yourself in a sweet little love story. You could have listened to illegally downloaded mp3’s of the most romantic emo’ shit rock and found yourself somewhere in those pages. Yeah at one time this book could have saved you.

Before the razor blades.
Before the bulimia.
Before the rape.
Before the neglect.
Before the pain.

Before all this hate there was love.

Before the cocaine.
Before the lies.
Before the obcession.
Before the shitty poetry.
Before the newspapers.

Before the denial there was just a simple little truth about a boy and a girl.

There was this cute story about a little boy and a little girl growing up all their lives together in one of those communities where all the houses look the same. The houses alternate one green one yellow back and forth in one giant strip about the size of a strip mall. No yards. No grass. There was just a parking lot full of cars that look like the equivalent of a child born during an earthquake to a mother addicted to heroin. All their faces caved in with scratches and streaks of chipped paint running down their sides. Old Ford tempos’ three of them all in a row all resembling junk jewelry that the gold plating has worn off of. In the middle of them was a battle scared Cadillac Deville still blue as the sky but the bottom of the doors are all bubbly with rust and the floor boards are so corroded that you’d be riding around Flintstone style if you stomp your feet hard enough. Some old boat of a car with no tires, paint, seats, or a stearing weel sitting proudly on four concrete slabs with bright orange brake pads exposed to the weather waiting patiently to be restored sits half on the sidewalk.

The collective value of all these cars is probably less than what you make in a single paycheck. These cars are the type you’ll see squealing around bends at 75mph with your caring loving respectable son or daughter behind the wheel. The type that kids fill with stereo equipment powerful enough to flip packs of cigarettes on their hoods. These are the once dream cars of big business men. These were once $200 a month of happiness and convenience but now they’re worth less than that individually.

If you were there and you squinted your eyes enough and perked your ears up you would see why none of this matters. It didn’t matter that mommy had to get the car inspected by a friend to pass because the car burned about a quart of oil into the atmosphere a week. It didn’t matter that the tires that were stacked up on the porch were as bald as cancer patients. The fact that the transmission wouldn’t go into second gear and you had to put the car in 2nd manually when going up any hill with a steep above 15 degrees was nothing of importance. The worry that it would break down again in the middle of an intersection didn’t exist.

Because for the two little kids giggling in the front seat of this heap of shit junk steel; it was invincible. Yeah this car could go a bigillion miles an hour and there would always be a gas station located within two miles of your gas tanks limits. Whether it was a race to the moon or a two mile an hour crawl to Darien Lake down a busy stretch of bumper to bumper traffic there was always one right before the last minute. For them they didn’t have to wait a year to laugh at the tragedies of life the way the “big people” did.

The whole time Tabitha’s screaming in her emotional caricature voice “We’re out of gas Mr.Timmy. Hurry. Push Push. AHHHHH watch out for that mackdonalds truck.” The strain and worry in her voice is tinged by the high pitched uncontrollable laughter of a girl as close to heaven as she’ll ever be.

It’s sort of like now except it’s her laughter that’s tinged with strain and worry now instead of her strained and worried voice tinged with laughter and Heaven only exists when she cries.

Timmy promptly hops out of the car and skips behind it screaming “OOOOOOHHHH NOOOOOOOOO” as he runs.

“It’s ok Mrs.Tabby, you just stay put. I’ll protect you. Stay in yer seat.” Timmy can’t even fake the pain and worry in his voice. Practice makes perfect.

If you want a phonetic spelling of his words this is what they would look like.

“Giggle giggle It’s giggle it’s ok Mrs. Giggle giggle giggle Tabby….” Well you get the idea. The girlish giggle of this little boy can be heard over the squealing and clanking of a car being pushed as hard as it can be pushed by 7 year old Timmy. With all of his might he’s pushing the car to the next gas pump. It’s shaking back and forth as clumps of rust and concrete fall to the ground.

Tabitha’s not in the car anymore. She’s far far away. This is sort of like what she does now. Except now she wants to be far far away like dead. She only needs 6 feet of movement to satisfy her.

But then when she was in the front seat of that tire-less car all she had to do was close her eyes and she was so far away that if you got directions for her location on mapquest you’d have to buy two 500 hundred packs of paper for just the mileage to the destination.

As she was rocking back and forth she wasn’t sitting in the front seat of a junked up car stripped of paint and primer-ed up to be the fulfillment of someone’s shallow dream. She was in a tire swing down at Leymone park and Timmy was the one pushing her. He was the wind that pushes her hair back. That little piece of rope she’s holding onto isn’t a make shift seat belt. It’s the rope of the tire swing. As she pulls the lever of the car seat she’s really just leaning back to see her first true love upside down.

As she was slowly sliding down her seat to the floor she was traveling a hundred miles an hour down a warm steel slide that disappears into the wondrous blue sky that stretches for an eternity in all directions. It spirals endlessly but somehow with Timmy she can always make it to the top. No matter how far it is till she reaches bottom she’s not afraid.

For Timmy she’s not afraid to fall forever.

For Timmy she’s not afraid to fall forever because she knows that he will always be there to catch her. She knows that she’ll be alright. This 5 year old girl knows that no matter how scary it is the love of her life will be there to make it all go away. No matter what it costs him. No matter how much pain it will cause he’ll be there. Timmy will always do what it takes to make her safe. Timmy loves her. Timmy can’t say it but he does. He get’s that happy sick feeling in his stomach every time she smiles. He’s got a field of butterflies replacing his stomach every time she’s near. Every time she touches him those butterflies turn into a thousand lightning bolts that shoot across his nerves like a trail of smoke following fireworks in a midnight’s sky and her fingertips are the snap crackle pop of colors. And every time he watches her walk away they all shoot back and concentrate into his aching heart. Sometimes when things are so far away you don’t have to watch them leave. Sometimes when things are already dead you don't have to watch them die.

Miraculously Timmy was able to make it to the gas station which as reported to by Tabby was “hurry it’s 500 miles the wrong way no matter which way you go and we’ve got to buy milk before it spoils.”

“Ok we’re there deary dear. Hand me my bucks.” Hehe haha blah blah what the fuck ever.

As this little boy leans into the car he can feel his heart beat faster and faster. It’s pounding so hard that it sounds like the bass line to a shitty death metal song. As this little soon to be drug addicted piece of shit leans in he wants to just stay there forever. He wants to sit and stare and explore the world that exists in her eyes. Her pupils are pools of curiosity and he wants to wade naked in her mind until he drowns. He can’t talk. He can’t move for anything. He’s hypnotized by her beauty. Her beautiful thin hair and chapped lips. Her gorgeous scrapes and bruises from playground mishaps. These are all gateways to parallel dimensions of her three dimensional universe of perfection. Yeah for 10 whole minutes he just stares and he’s no where. He’s not sliding down slides that stretch to the sky. He’s not a million miles away. He’s not lost in his imagination or suddenly found in someone elses. He’s not the chicken shit coward huddled up in a ball as his responsible father takes responsibility for losing his job by making sure his wife knows that God is dead for him. He’s not that boy crying and longing with all of his heart to be saved.

He’s not “saved”.

He’s not saved because he doesn’t need to be when she’s near. He doesn’t need a book to tell him how to get to heaven because he’s already there. Her hair is heavens gates and her voice is choirs of angels. Every word she say’s is written down as hymnals. The thoughts that fill the pews in the Tabitha worship church of his mind are all singing along. Yeah with Tabitha he’s found God.

Tabitha’s staring back.
Tabitha’s staring back.

As Tabitha’s staring back a tiny little tear pushes its way out of the corner of her eye.

I Think it’s safe to say that you know what this means. I think it’s safe to say that any adult could gather that these are tears of joy. Tears of happiness. Tears of safety. But this little mind fuck Timmy has no clue. In his mind this is dad drunk or high again. In Timmy’s mind this is mom down on her knees begging for forgiveness and cursing herself for whatever she’s done to deserve this. This is mommy screaming “WHY” and whispering as she breaks into tears “why is this part of your plan Lord, why am I blind?” For this atheist little shit this is losing faith.

He wants to run. This little coward wants to run away forever. He sees those tears and thinks that they’re all because of him. He knew he just knew that he should have pushed a little longer. He could have pushed a little harder and she would have had more fun. The sky could have been a little higher if he just tried. She said 500 miles and he only pushed for 499.1. Timmy’s always just at the horizon of success in his mind.

Tabitha doesn’t really know what this is all about either. She has no clue why a tear falls from her eye. This is a new feeling. This is a new color. This is a blind man who gets his vision back for a short while. All the ways she thought she saw things suddenly change just for a minute. Every blue is red and every red is blue and Timmy always stood there as her purple. He made it all make sense. Even as he stood there panic eyed and dripping with sweat she understood why. She just wanted to help him.

“What’s wrong?” says the little runt dripping in sweat with rust stains on his soar knees.

“There’s a truck coming towards us. Run Save yourself.” Timmy save himself? HA!

Timmy jumps in front of the imaginary truck. He falls back. Just to make tabby giggle that angelic giggle he throws himself to the ground. His back smacks against the cold concrete. His arms fall lifeless to their sides…

Chapter 15
Have you ever stared at the sun until the sky turned into this never ending surrealistic red landscape? You can’t help yourself. The slight burning in your eyes makes your eyes blink and close tightly and you can still see the sun through that piece of flesh that’s covering your eyes. But it’s just so beautiful. You want to jump into that sky and go dancing on its rays. It’s majestic and beautiful so you stare and stare until it all fades to white and you have no choice but to look away. There’s all these transparent dot’s floating around. No matter where you move your head they’re always at the same spot as if life is just a television program and those are little smears on a crystal clear screen.

As Timmy lays flat backed against the warm concrete his shirt is sticky with sweat and glued to his sun burnt back.

As Timmy lays flat backed against the warm concrete his cheeks are sticky with tears and his eyes are glued on Tabby.

If you could have seen her you would have understood why Timmy’s doing what he’s doing. She’s wearing a bright pink sundress with vines splattered with purple flowers that sprout at her ankle and blossom from her waist up to her collar bone. Her scrawny little waist is wrapped snugly with a bright pink sparkling sequence piece of fabric. As Timmy’s eyes slowly tip toe from her feet and follow the garden of Eden that’s printed on thousands of other dresses by those evil immigrants who work for (insert HALF state minimum wage here) an hour the shimmer of the glittery belt is so bright for just one tiny little milli-second that he can’t see anything.

Sometimes when Timmy stares at her he feels like he is blind.

If you could hear her you would understand why Timmy’s going to do what he’s going to do. Her voice is soft and delicate like a mother singing sweet lullabies of innocence and protection to her newly born precious gift of God. The words she speaks spill out like drops of water from the oceans of inspiration that Timmy is drowning in. He can’t even hear what she is saying anymore but he can feel the vibrations that pulsate through the water telling his nerves the secrets of her messages.

Sometimes when Timmy hears her Timmy thinks he’s def.

If you could feel the same way that Timmy felt right at that moment then it would make perfect sense why Timmy has to do this. This is a rush of every emotion you know laced with a thousand more you never knew existed. Hearing what she say’s is like ambulance sirens and cop lights to a drug dealer. Seeing the way the sunlight outlines her body perfectly, the way it shines through her puffy hair and makes a shining red halo, the way the ray’s of light dance around her body as if she is immune to it’s poisonous rays, this is all like a trailer park full of people all standing in horror as a young man nearly dies from an overdose of cocaine. She makes him feel like everything in life is a perfectly orchestrated plan to make something beautiful. She makes him feel like any pain is worth one of her smiles. For her he’s not afraid to fall forever. For Tabitha Timmy wants to fall forever just to know how high he really is.

Sometimes when Timmy’s confused about how he feels for her he thinks he knows the secrets to the universe.

If you could hear the thousands of voices that are all screaming with panic in her mind you’d know why she stands silent. The only thing that makes sense to say is… “I love you”

Sometimes Timmy thinks he knows the meaning of life.

He wants to stand up tall and brave and hold her hand and say everything will be alright. He wants more than anything to let her know that everything has no choice but to be alright. That even when his life is falling apart. That when his face is being used to break the living room glass coffee table, even when he’s being yelled at for forgetting scriptures he was suppose to memorize, even when He’s lying on the ground and he can barely breathe that all the pieces of his life falling apart always come together more beautifully when she’s near. He want’s to tell her that even if life was perfect and none of those tragic things happened to him that he would still feel the same way. He wants her to know that if he went away forever that he’d always feel that way. Timmy really just wants to sit up hold her hand and say I love you.

But this time as his eyes crawl from her waist the rest of the way up to her face still dripping with tears his heart flutters and he’s the most scared he’s ever been in his life. This is cute right? This is just your run of the mill everyday innocent puppy love and it will never amount to anything. This isn’t true love but this makes more sense to them than anything. Because before love was defined on dictionary.com with sexual references in 5/10 definitions it was something with such a long definition that you could never make it fit on one internet page no matter if you scrolled forever. At one time love was that feeling just as intoxicating as any drug that makes you dizzy and nauseous yet feel like you’re sick without it. At one time love was something so important and something so strong in Timmy’s heart that he would have done anything to protect a person he loved. At one time, before you lost your innocence, love was something to fight for. Something to die for. Something to kill for.

If it meant an eternity of flames and pain that became more intense in each moment to keep someone he loved from burning their finger on the stove he would have done it.

Timmy wants to suffer an eternity of fire.

If Timmy could take all of Tabitha’s beatings and punishments with intensity 10 times greater than she was ever hit with then he would everyday. Timmy Wants to feel every pain she has to the point that he forgets that they’re hers.

Timmy wants 40 lashings with cat tail whips with pretty scars to last a lifetime.

If he had to run for miles and miles through snowy mountains, over jagged stones until his feet started bleeding he would just to hear her say those magic words. Just to feel her say she loves him Timmy wants to run forever to be sure it’s real when he say’s it back. If his heart burst before her then that would be the best way to die

Timmy wants his loving heart to be broken by that love that makes it beautiful. He wants that distortion. He wants that delusion.

His father said no matter what you do this world will beat you, this world will destroy everything you know and all of your love with hatred and you can not escape it. He say’s that love is just a concept. He say’s Timmy’s not smart enough to understand it and he will just hurt her.

Timmy never wants to hurt her.

“I’m sorry I can’t love you”

This is certainly the way this little shit face coke head man whore is going to do it. He really thinks this is for the better. “Obey thy Mother and Thy Father” even if they are fucking lunatics.

Oh and by the way before you get all wishy washy and start to think that’s kind of cute I’ve got one thing for you to keep in mind; you’re a fucking moron.

Keep in mind what this all means, what this all will mean. This is the same thing. The same high you can’t keep and the same sun that’s always blinding your eyes. The same thought processes repeating for an eternity like algebraic formulas of decision making just with different variables in them that will never work. This is the same heart beating faster and faster and the same dead lifeless arms spread across the cold concrete of a low income housing area with crowds of little whores to soak up the tragedy to later sell for friendship. This is the same dream, this is the same nightmare, this is the same lie.

No matter what you do you can’t escape this place for this place is your own mind; your personal purgatory complete with false ideals with the promise of eternal suffering once they are broken. The same blinding light that you’re promised to find a way with is shining through the same eyelids shadowing the world in bloody see through skin. This world is filtered with your skin. Everything you see will be altered molested corrupted and put back neatly on the shelves and told to smile. Told to look down at the same floor. Told to duck down the same head. This is the same disappearing act. The same whispers, the same screams. The same blood streaming from an innocent face.

Welcome to an accumulation of every fear or bad memory you have ever had. Every precious tear drop and all of those crimson tainted razorblades that are to dull to make friends with.

Welcome to Hell.

Welcome To Damnation.

Welcome to Eternal Suffering in Flames.

Welcome to

YOUR MIND

B-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-p
B-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-p
This is a message from the G.O.D. channel; we’ve replaced perfections model created by the delusion of divinity and replaced it with reality. That is all you may now return to your normally scheduled mind programming.

Timmy falls back down and the paramedics arrive soon after.

Chapter 15
Sometimes a sky can look like forever when you’re so young. It looks like an eternity of brand new shapes that are all running wild in the sky of your imagination. In this baby blue sky you’re invincible and never turning gray, never ready to pour. Sometimes when you’re young love can be your sky without the danger of falling. It seems so safe and secure and it just makes sense to love everybody. No matter what the world says or does it makes more sense to be hurt by love than to smile when it’s bought with hatred. When you’re young you’re naïve. When you’re young forever seems so short and 19 sounds so old. When you’re young sometimes it seems like the world is waiting for you to fall. They can’t remember how beautiful you really are.

Keep in mind who they are when you’re going through all of this, when you’re sifting through the dirt keep in mind the filter that’s perpetuating this farther than it should. These are the same fading whispers and very well hidden “that’s him” and lies. This is the same augmentation of a truth that’s hard enough for some people to understand the meaning of with out the perspectives of others leaking in. These are the same faucets that were once leaky but now run free and it feels like they are drowning you because they were opened with your own childish ambition. Somewhere in your mind this all comes down on you.

Paramedics
Nearly paraplegic

Flashing lights
Suicidal intoxication

Soft white skin
Stained with blood

You are the bullet in every gun until it becomes your own then it is the worlds. You can blame the world if you want but it hurts more to think that this world can be so wrong sometimes so you deserve the weight and you will become a martyr for the sick generation. You are the unheard story of middle-class white America. You are the pure white stripes in our flag that waves in pride to all those the same. You are nazi concentration camps. You are a virus. You are so happy and in love that you want to let this never end. You don’t understand this. This will destroy you. This will destroy everyone you love. You will kill her.

If you’re tired of this now then get the fuck out of here. Look at porn go get yourself off real good ya little stud you. Maybe you should find a way to get your head out of your ass long enough to get a decent god damned education. Stop staying in your room all day and start making friends; where’s our buddy Andrew he loves to make good friends with everybody. Tabitha, Timmy, and crouched outside his mothers room while she’s crying. You don’t think this shit happens? You don’t think this world is that fucked up. You’re right. This world is fine there’s nothing to see go back to your cell and we’ll clean up the semen. Don’t let Andrew rape you in the ass on the way out. He’s a good kid he’s just a little confused about his sexuality at the moment you’ll have to just bear with him. So you sick of this shit yet whore? I’m sure you want more. This is Jerry Springer on replay 24 hours in the theater of your mind. This is Americas little white powder lie. This is humanity’s addiction to serotonin. This is a spiral. The world is spinning the lights are flashing and all of this sudden this is the stretcher of an ambulance and heaven is again awaiting you in your time of danger. You are saved.

You can’t hear to much of anything to make sense of it. But for some reason that insane crying is the only way that makes it impossible not to say I love you with out ever saying the words. The transcript to the story of her heart is hard wired into your heart and it’s code is so long that it can never be completely transposed onto paper with out at least one augmentation. The moment you try to understand why this makes so much sense it never really will again.

There are seemingly thousands of little tubes coming from your throat and little pads with cherry red wires sprouting from their surface which run to a very large boxy screen covered in numbers that are raising faster and faster the more you look at them.

Convulsions
Drugs

Lies
Misunderstanding

Life
A dream…
Fading in and out being reborn a thousand times over the same cycle in the same moment onto either side of the same reality. Now you can see all sides if your eyes were wide enough to collect all of the tiny connection points to the mirrored glass you have created for your mind. Nothing is real and nothing is pretend so everything just is such a small concept in…
A dream…
With each time you dive deeper into your unconscious universe of thought the flicker of sense between each crossing over becomes less and less defined and soon the moon’s light becomes as bright as the sun and your son is just a reflection of something else’s light and guidance. There are no moments in which you may seek rest for you’re set to a permanent state of self destructive mental bondage. Over and over in your mind the mistakes in life replay like watching family movies with the deep dark subconscious. Embracing and all encompassing the ID and pissing all over the super-ego is far less dangerous than becoming lost within a boundary. The darkness is a release and soothing for the backround of…
A dream…
Everything you see, every person you meet is nothing more than a dream. This world is your dream and the only all knowing is the dagger lashed eye of perception that you are forced to keep quit until trained.

This is all a dream for life is but a dream when you’re young. And when you’re in love life is always a dream but dreams are dirty because they can never be real and you can’t pinch yourself in a dream without waking up so you’re trying to hurt yourself as much as possible because this dream seems so real.

If you understand then you will never wake up.
If you don’t then your dream will make you beautiful.
If you don’t care then fuck off.

The lights fade and the siren turns to but a whisper as the paramedics roll you out of the back of the Ambulance. Tabitha screams in horror as Timmy shakes and blood pours from the back of his head. A crowd of people follow but they all blur out of focus and the only image that comes in clear in your mind is the image of a girl screaming so horrifically it turns to silence and there are no more tears left for her to cry.

Chapter 16
It's odd how things alter your perception of life, one minute the world is perfect and you don't understand how anyone could take it for granted and the next everything is falling apart and you despise the smiling faces as they gloat in their happiness. Those mother-fuckers walking around trying to bring you down with their "it's all how you look at it"'s and "someone has it worse than you"'s as if knowing that someone else is hurting more than you is suppose to make you feel better. Knowing that somewhere someone is on their knee's begging god for a sign that eventually life will go according to some plan, eventually this world won't seem so cold and heaven won't feel like it burns in contrast is suppose to make you feel better and if it doesn't there's something the matter with you. You're the sick one when the world's suffering isn't enough to make you smile.

We live in a world that uses depression to pick itself back up and we wonder why we always fall back down.

Every happy heartshaped candy in that big old "you never know what you're gonna get next" box of chocolates of life is subjective to your taste so Timmy and Tabitha are smiling and at one another as patients are being wheeled in screaming in agonizing pain. A 20 somethin whore a few doors down just gave birth to a dead baby because her addiction is stronger than love and now that her uterous has been a grave business just won't be the same, you poor thing. Some dip shit who decided it would be a good idea to stick his dick in a guy instead of a girl is bleeding profusely from the head and his blood is making a trail to his stretcher down the hallway, because his once best friend found out he's a fag and hit him in the head 47 times with a 12" cresent wrench. His bestfriend the closet pedifile. I suppose as long as he only molested little girls it's all cool. After all "if they're on their knees they're already in position" as he use to joke when they were still friends, not telling him how serious he really was. 10 floors up there's a 17 year old psyzophrenic talking to herself about how they won't ever be able to get a new contract if they don't kill at least 2 more pre-conceived notions of racial barriers as her asian security guard tries to fend her off before she stabs him with a fork. Two manic depressed teenagers, one a boy wearing all black, another a girl wearing strangers seamen on the weekends, both think to themselves about how things like this always happen to them because god hate's them. Everyone is the center of their own universe in this place. Every reality weaving and knotting into one another forming a clusler fuck of confusion called life. Even Timmy's parents whirlwind of thoughts about their only son's welfare are tainted with thoughts of not having enough money to pay for parking, "is the stove off", "are the headlights on" and so on and self-absorbed so on. But for Timmy and tabita their worlds don't revolve around themselves but rather each other. Each others focus on eachother as the world bends and transforms a thousand times creating a streaking abstract piece of art of the life that revolves around love.

Tabitha's smiling because, even though this scared little cunt won't ever admit he's in love with her, he's still ok and that's all that really matters. Tabitha's smiling and laughing at the 6' black and white telivision mounted above Timmy's moving up and down electric bed, glancing back at Timmy every 2 or three seconds to make sure he's still ok. Glancing back at him every 2 or three seconds because he's just that beautiful. Every second her eyes are glued to the cartoons timmy's eye's are glued to her smile. The way her happiness radiates the room amazes him the more he stare's until she glances back and he looks at the T.V. not wanting her to know that he adores her. But right now this is all very sweet. they both know what's going on and they're trying to catch one another. Looking away and back and forth and back again untill it turns into a game. Both of them shaking their heads back and forth and back and forth so fast that they really couldn't see anything untill tabby stops.

"Timmy?"

"What?"

"i want you to listen carefully cuz i don't know if i can say this again" She say's leaning forward with a big grin on her face like she's about to do something wrong. She comes close to his ear and wispers"i just wanted to say.." and kisses him square on the lips.

The end.
Not good enough to be the climax?
Not important enough to you?
Fuck you