I follow you everywhere you go. Watching you live with death in your eyes, the same death in my own.

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He didn’t understand what death was. He was only a child of five years, who had never before known someone who had passed. All he knew was that his mother was never going to be home again. That the woman who cared for him since he was born was going to be lowered into the earth and stay there forever.

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He stabbed me.
I felt it in my chest.
He said something to me next.
I felt it in my heart.

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Summer Began - first one out the door, dancing down the halls, singing loud and proud. It was party times, bitches!
Went out that, came home in the morning, slept ‘til midnight, stayed up online. Sleep from 6am to 6pm, internet ‘til 6am. Repeat for the first whole month.

Mid Summer - Go out for the afternoon. Internet, sleep, and food; for four days. Go out again. Internet. Text. Food. Sleep. Draw. Sleep. Internet. Food. Pool for an hour. Food. Barbecue. Sleep. Internet. Dine out for dinner. Internet. Sleep. Clean. Internet. Food. Sleep.

End of Summer - Regret doing nothing. Continue to do nothing. Back to school shopping.

Fall Begins - Forever cry until Winter Break.

Stare at the clock.
Look away.
Wait.
Look again.
Hardly a change.
Look away again.
…..
Look back.
Hasn’t even moved.
Time. We are its slaves aren’t we?

You don’t deserve my art.
You cannot comprehend its origin
You cannot look to its meaning
You cannot feels its emotion
You cannot read its stories
You don’t deserve my art.

So you won’t have it.

I’m so horribly sorry you were misfortunate enough
To inherit an illness so foul
That you are prone to such a nature 
That permits you to be 
Foul, stupid, unkind, a screw up, a mess, 
and an overall unbearable person to be around in general.

I am also very sorry to hear that your illness is not terminal, 
So as I’d be rid of you by morning tomorrow.

So very, very sorry.

One day you wake up
it’s going to be a great day!
You’re prepared for anything
You’re dressed in your new suit
Ready for work
First catastrophe:

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The deal was simple. Kill them, get my payment, leave and never come back. That’s all; nothing else.

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With a bullet in the left side of your chest, there tends to be little hope or positive thoughts. As a matter of fact, there are none. I just got shot! What the hell! I’m fucked! Shit!

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