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the pounding ceased.
unbeleivingly, he uncovered his ears...hands sticky from half-congealed blood...
He went outside, and the world was still there.
Amazing, he thought, that the war seemed to leave not a mark on the landscape. He left the ruin, taking tenitive steps foward.
...and the world seemed to spin sickenly around him, above him- in a spiral - as if the womb of the earth would reclaim his body, and force his mind to oblivion. He fought to fight it.. Staggering, with the spiral, as it pulled him into itself. He realised that there was no noise. wasn't there a war or something?? His hands were at his head again and there was a noise...his own demented screaming, and pounding at his ears to quell the sound..its in my head..in my heaaaaaad...the war in my heaaaaaaad.
...and when he thought he just could not take anymore...
the pounding ceased.
unbeleivingly, he uncovered his ears...hands sticky from half-congealed blood...
He went outside, and the world was still there.
Amazing, he thought, that the war seemed to leave not a mark on the landscape. He left the ruin, taking tenitive steps foward.
The air was wonderfully, biting cold.
The kind that tore through anything you were wearing.
The boy liked it this way.
it fit.
...now the air: crisp sharp and silent, finally
-he just then felt...aware of every pore in his body
he felt it kick in...now like a slow burn...a feathery light feeling in his middle
that was when it started to snow
he could see each individual crystal
as if worlds were swriling around him
as if he were at the piviot of all things
...lost in each 'till they hit the ground and dissappeared.
so that is how it is, the boy thought
and the feathers turned to an icy frozen metal hand inside
just cradling his insides...his vitality
and starting its inexorable clutching consuming hold
crushing metal hardness inside...
now he started to burn
burn
burn
burn
he died six hours later
blood seeping from his pores
and consumed with the universe
and holding the hand of god.
The Hatter opened his eyes very wide on hearing this; but all he SAID was, 'Why is a raven like a writing-desk?'
'Come, we shall have some fun now!' thought Alice. 'I'm glad they've begun asking riddles.I believe I can guess that,' she added aloud.
'Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?' said the March Hare.
'Exactly so,' said Alice.
'Then you should say what you mean,' the March Hare went on.
'I do,' Alice hastily replied; 'at least I mean what I say; that's the same thing, you know.'
'Not the same thing a bit!' said the Hatter. 'You might just as well say that "I see what I eat" is the same thing as "I eat what I see"!'
'You might just as well say,' added the March Hare, 'that "I like what I get" is the same thing as "I get what I like"!'
'You might just as well say,' added the Dormouse, who seemed to be talking in his sleep, 'that "I breathe when I sleep" is the same thing as "I sleep when I breathe"!'
'It IS the same thing with you,' said the Hatter, and here the conversation dropped, and the party sat silent for a minute, while Alice thought over all she could remember about ravens and writing-desks, which wasn't much.
compliments of Lewis Caroll
The cold knife slid down her yielding
body-neatly slicing with mechanical
accuracy a deep line down her entire length.
softly she moaned: ooooh no. oooooooh
no ohh no no noooo....
her body arched with desire in her bonds
back and stomach forming the apex of a "V"
her blood warmly trickled down in tiny rivulets;
her blood wept into uesless, tragic puddles.......
The man smiled.
The shadows on his face were not right.
