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BECACAUSEWECAN
hey. i'm kris. i'm me, not anybody else. don't try to change me or put me in a box, but i would love to chat, darling, if you feel the need. rawk on.-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I have a hangnail, and I keep chewing on it as I check behind me. I wonder if they are following me, I know they arent, but I am wired simply as the prospect. My muscles tense tighter and tighter as I get excited and anticipate them trailing me. I duck behind the corner of a brick building, leading into an alleyway. The alleyway is a stereotypical one: chain link fence and shiny oil spills on cracked concrete. I decide I will jump out at them first, surprise them, the tightly contained explosive that I am. I wait there for them, crouched and giggling. I stay there, on my knees and leaning against brown brick, waiting. I wait there for 60 years. I watch the sky turn blue to black to purple to red and over again. I see the chain link being cut, hypodermic needles thrown in as an offering to the alley, dont let anyone see. But I see, and I wait. I have stopped giggling and now I am just tired and wired, the kind of intense exhaustion. They must come. I am waiting. But when the next day arrives, I decide to stand up. I do this slowly, testing my legs to see if they will shatter. They dont, though, only crumble around the edges a bit. Awkwardly, I make my way to a pawnshop. It is disgusting, and I want to cry when I walk in and see cracked linoleum and broken plastic shelves. I force myself to stay and browse. I am still waiting. But after a time, the worn out stained soul of this place seeps deep into my bones, and I cannot take it. I run. I am dizzy, suddenly, needing to get back to my alley so I can surprise them. When I make it outside, though, it is all gone. Everything. The world is flat and brown and bulldozed. I see nothing. I am nothing. They are not here.
: Qola :
heya thanks heaps for adding [ CELL 7
] to your favourite artists, and for your comment
on our page. It is much appreciated :o) The album is
99% finished and will be ready to download in april, or
buy with limited edition packaging. We will also make
some free extra downloads from within purevolume soon
:o)
posted Feb 03