11183 visits since 03/07/01 -=Mail/MSN=- sprained_soul@hotmail.com -=Featured Link=- Listening to 11.975hz - The official webcomic of #a!. 09/30/06 Cocktail Time Kill. 12/11/03 Conveyerbelt dreamscape. 09/24/03 Studded leather Envy. 06/26/03 Your very own anything. 02/11/03 I am part Hamlet, part eunuch. 11/17/02 I liked you better when I didn't know you. 10/13/02 No one likes you and you're going to lose. 09/13/02 I'd sell my soul for a Klondike Bar. 09/12/02 From lonely to only. 06/14/02 Spoonfulls of sidewalk wisdom. 05/11/02 Spontaneous human combustion on a bus. 03/24/02 We are all there is now. 03/18/02 Know what I'm talking about? 03/11/02 I wonder what it's like to be dead. 03/07/02 Lights off, Insanity on.			Spoonfuls of sidewalk wisdom     He took the gun out from the small of his back and bore the barrel down on my head. I look down it like a well I had just thrown a coin into, waiting to hear it splash. I couldn't help but notice the little spiral grooves that edged back into the darkness of the chamber. My highschool physics teacher flashed through my head, speaking of trajectories and air resistance. I try to think of something happy... It's was 5am and my mouth was dusty, the blur of the day faded more and more the closer I got to your apartment. The first night I laid beside you I knew where the expression 'daily grind' came from, it was from those strength-sucking bastards who want nothing more than to wear you down, to make you dull and then break you. The world outside your bed was a fabled giant, searching to grind my bones to make it's bread. It's funny how I thought you offered nothing but solace, the warm arms of a greek goddess, a complete and total refuge but I never thought that somehow it would spin itself into my own Marcus Brutus. I always felt like I was the studio audience when I was around you except for when you were asleep. Your pillow was long enough for us to put both our heads on it and I would relent to sleep with the smell of your damp hair filling my nose, it reminded me of innocence and simplicity. While you slept you always looked content, warm and happy, sprawled out randomly each night I would come home. I could not say anything stupid while you were asleep, I could enjoy my own company in your prescense during those morning hours, in my memory, those moments smell of lilac shampoo and feel warm behind my eyes. He screams out "Give me your fucking money." He's serious as a heart attack, eyes wide and darty, aware and angry. I swallow and try to think of something that will keep me from fainting... Under those old, blue cotton sheets your body was like a tiny mold. I bent around you like eager plaster when I slept and I was always amazed at how round your shoulders were for some reason, how ageless you face, how warm your back felt on my stomach. The gentle heaving of you ribs, tiny,little content sighs fleeing your mouth. I think those were the times where I could remember the happiness that only those inutero know. Morning would come and my little paradise would dissapear into a work uniform and neuroticism. Flailing about, hands all defensive agressive but those big brown eyes still warm and gentle. Sometimes while we were out among the other animals, I would think of all the awful things I've done, all the words I've misused to lie and those evil things that crept through my mind, the thought of slaughtering each and every single person that was within distance of the bomb I wish I could become. Thinking these things always made me feel inadaquate to you, how you seemed to never think an evil thought, how you knew fairness and love and all I could see was hate, mistrust and dreams of dying. This is why I was quiet all the time, if you wanted to know. Through all of it, it was the time I felt most alive. I wonder what you do when everything ceases to shock you, when nothing registers anymore, when ever day of your life is unimpressive and worst of all, unimportant. For me, my life is no longer lived, life isn't wasted nor is it used. Life is survived, life is traversed and navigated, life is inescapable gravity. Life is endured like child birth. Life isn't wasted, it is a waste. It's so sad when you get corrupted by it all, no longer naive enough to have faith, no longer dumb enough to fall for it again, no longer interested enough to get involved. He contines screaming, "Give the money bitch and this will all go smooth." I open my mouth wide, like a scream bubble was trying to roll out of my mouth. I put the business end of the pistol inside my mouth. He looks shocked. I try to smile... I've been alone for an eternity, not the simple kind of alone though. Not the kind of alone where you can pick up a phone and find someone, not the kind of alone where you can go out and find someone else to be with or be around, not the kind of alone where you've deciced that being on your own is the best thing for you. I had no say in my lonliness. My kind of alone is the middle of a desert, the middle of artic tundra. My kind of alone is a soldier ripped apart by shrapnel, bleeding to death in a hole with nothing but enemies around him, my kind of alone is a nuclear winter, my kind of alone is a christmas morning in a one bedroom apartment and you have to work in a couple of hours. This is what I have left. My spite and my knowledge are all I can hold. I can think about those mornings of crawling into bed with you already asleep and feel like it wasn't all wasted. I think I loved you most when you didn't know I was alive because it wasn't you, but merely what you represented while you slept. Ever since you've left my life has been a dark, year-long panick attack, my hands still shake when I think of you, my eyes try to find the floor when I'm asked about you. The world has never felt so grey. This doesn't go away, and I'll never forgive you. It will always hurt. You stole the fucking sun and moon. He withdraws the gun, puts it in his pocket and gives me a look of admiration. Maybe he thought I was being tough, he knows that a man with nothing to lose is the most dangerous man in the world. I walk home, I open my door, I sit down on the couch. I wish...