Words aren’t enough anymore, but they fall from your lips anyway

Note:

I cant remember what this was inspired by, but I’m pretty sure it was something by Nirvana. Short, mildly spastic and bitter piece. Intended in my head as Slash but can be read anyway you like.

Reviews are seriously appreciated. I’d love you if left one. –flutterblink-

Lovelove

Erasmuss

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Words aren’t enough anymore, but they fall from your lips anyway. Dribble down, hit the floor like the blood you choke on, bleeding from a throat you screamed raw. Screamed until it became hard to breathe, hard to see and you swayed on your feet.

He let you fall, looking scared, horrified but no. No! You don’t want him afraid even as you curl around your own stomach, churning, burning from the pills melting in a pit of acids.

Too many.

Too many pills.

Like a seizure, like an illness you feel diseased and poisonous, dying, cold on a clean carpeted floor in your rags and dirt. Dying amongst all this money, in his territory of expensive things you could only dream of owning.

And you’ve ruined his carpet now with ugly red smears and the grime from your boots. You hate yourself for it don’t you? You should scrub it away, clean it off with the bleach you drank because this carpet is worth more than you will ever be. The bleach though, could never make you clean.

Your spilling apologies, trying to even though the only sound you make is nothing at all. You lips move, pale and trembling, but nothing comes out except the slow, thick trickle of blood.

He is there in front of you, angel eyes wide as his shaking hands push your filthy hair away form your face, the palm of his hand wiping the blood away in his feeble attempts at helping you. You try to wriggle away because he’s too good for you. The alley you staggered by would have been a better place to go, curl up in the cold and die because then he wouldn’t be afraid, he wouldn’t have these tears burning his eyes like liquid diamonds, and even now all you can feel is guilt for making him hurt. Even now as he folds you into his arms you feel like a maggot to a caterpillar, a rusty old bicycle to a Mazurati. There’s one of those parked in his garage, and no maggots breed in his gardens to turn into flies. That’s what you must be to him. Maggot, a fly. Annoying, buzzing and vomiting on people and their lives. A fleeting thing to die quickly and be replaced by another.

You didn’t ever mean to hurt him, soil his house with your poisons and drugs and poverty, but you did because you didn’t see before what an angel he was. You wanted to use him, take his money, old, old money, and move out of your reeking, leaking apartment with it’s broken toilet and rusty taps. You wanted to wear clean clothes and have warm showers and eat unspoiled food, so you used him.

Then you realised that you had only what you deserved, you don’t deserve him and you are sorry, even as he wiped the blood from your chin, places kisses on your unwashed face. They feel like the blessings of an angel but with every peck you feel your filth rubbing off on him, soiling his perfection with disease and infection. Oh you would be in heaven if you weren’t so sorry, so sorry for making him shed the tears that feel like snowflakes on your skin, and for making him say the words he was, the lies. .I’llhelpyou.I’llsaveyoubabyIloveyou.

And he’s taking away the soiled shoes, throwing them like discarded toys to the floor, taking the squalid clothes you wear and leaving them. His hands shake, wiping scum from your skin, caked blood from you’re lips that still tremble, plead with apologies that aren’t heard, just seen like pale, weeping ghosts.

.I’.IloveyouI’msorry.

You cant make it right for him can you? You only ever hurt him like some parasite. That’s what you were, mooching and leaching till you realise. But even in the process of you’re removal you’re hurting him, and you’ll leave a scar, covered in his clean blankets, in his clean bed with his cleans hands cleaning you dirty face. All to make you more comfortable, all to make you better because he knows there is no helping you now. Selfish bitch, you made him hurt while living, you make him hurt while dying and he’ll keep on hurting after you’re gone. Forever, because you made a stain on his white parade just by existing. Say goodbye now, say sorry and die. You’ve killed yourself, you’ve killed his heart, you. Unworthy you.