hazard 27 (defunct) › wall › view

a cry to the ones behind the lights (31/07/2006)

"A cigarette pony will not help me forget. I don't want its assistance. It will no longer be alive if it even tries."

He exhales a ghost of the past and watches it dissolve into air. Takes another drag, and watches another one leave his body. The air around him begins to smell like death. They do not want to be forgotten, so the burnt dreams cling onto him like mosquitoes. Painlessly inject. Breathe in without scent. Nothing is accomplished, yet watching a haunting memory fade away into the sky is calming, even if it returns without notice.

"It dies anyhow to tell you the truth. I just don't want to give it an excuse. It will believe in the excuse, and sickenly turn it into a reason for why it lived. It will lie to itself."

And from above, many lights shine on him. He sees his many shadows, and wishes that he only had one. But he begins to see even more, and the numbers rise so high that he can no longer count.

"The beauty of a lie is that it has the chance to become truth. The ugliness of truth is the trouble it takes to maintain with time, and it never has the opportunity to become any better. It never has the chance."

Dark figures from below raise their claws and slash him to the ground. He dies with everything he never wanted.

Options: [put it on the floor] [help] [exit]

unless otherwise specified, contents of this site are copyright and available under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 4.0 | 2001 - 2006