Author: theCoffeeEnzyme PM
He was imperfect.Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Tragedy - Words: 286 - Reviews: 3 - Published: 07-20-06 - id: 2215218
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so, it's morning and the sunlight is streaming through, burning my eyes like it always is at this time of day. stupid motherfucker.
and the music keeps distractig me from my morning tasks as i bustle about in a sporadic manner searching for mistle toe in august. and the complexity seems like a fornicator demanding procreatic misnomers, i coat them in grease and slide them under the door.
my mother calls out for breakfast and i tell her to fuck off, i'm jerking off and taking my pyjama's off to get ready for school. she calls me some name, a bitch i think and i continue with the rituals i declared second nature the moment i became another learned star. the government must love me.
i gargle and spit out the wash, the taste lingering freshly on still-red gums. i stare blankly in the mirrior but, only for a moment. too many cracks and lines and epithelial scarring, i got tired of looking into deep pools of superficiality.
sometimes i wonder which words are real and which ones i decided to make up when i wake up on wednesday morning. it's kind of like daydreaming at night: you always wonder whether or not it still counts. the insignificance seems insignificant and i tell myself "wow, none of this really matters."
i walk downstairs and tell my mother to just throw away the food, that i'd already brushed my teeth. she gives me a stare but, i never really care.
i swallow some pills, a drink of milk and it's off to school.
i cross the road without looking.
damn, what a mistake.