 Rank: Advanced Member
Groups: Registered
Joined: 16/02/2009(UTC) Posts: 2,543  Location: Jamaica Thanks: 27 times
Was thanked: 34 time(s) in 28 post(s)
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It was quite late. Probably about 3 in the morning. It always seemed like this time of night was the one closest to death. As if now was the time that death was waiting, watching you until oops. You slip up and your lying face down in a puddle of your own brain - spilt onto the floor like coconut milk emptying. Maybe this was that particular time for me, who knows. I know I don't really care, even if I did there would be fuck all I could do about it. Though I suppose if I was going to die I would of done it by now. Ben always used to have this infinite optimism that he would live forever. An infinite optimism that led him to push the boundaries of what would allow such a feat, like a child poking a canines arse hole until oops. It snaps and bites the child's finger off and the child's wailing and the dogs wailing and the mums wailing and then the dog gets a crack to the head with a shovel and the whole fucking furore is over with. Despite my deplorable story whenever I see a dog's arse hole I always feel the need to poke it. I guess a way of getting back at that fucker for stealing my finger. Probably would have sold more records with 8 of them, who ever heard of a 7 fingered guitarist?  |
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Rank: Advanced Member
Groups: Registered
Joined: 16/02/2009(UTC) Posts: 2,543 Location: Jamaica Thanks: 27 times
Was thanked: 34 time(s) in 28 post(s)
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It was morning and the sun was rising into the sky beckoning me to get up and go and do something. I'm a messiah, sent by the gods to perform amazing miracles and what am I doing? Lying in a ditch surrounded by smashed bottles and broken bodies. My life was full of the most beautiful women, most beautiful people. Now I'm a fucking mess. It all started about several months ago. I never thought I could cope without a band around me and I should perhaps of listened to myself. I spoke to Ben a few weeks ago over the phone, he told me Leslie was expecting he seemed pretty happy. I was surprised, seemed like he was growing older and I was loosing touch of where I should be. As being his rock all those years actually left me stuck in my ways whilst he had room to grow. Course I couldn't tell him I was feeling any of this.
I reached over to one of the least smashed of the bottles and peeled a kids hand off it. He couldn't have been any older than 21. Bit sad really. Then again, I'm only 26. I swished it to check for left over booze. A droplet remained and I immediatly necked it, a minescule shards of glass were hiden but they weren't large enough for me to bother being concerned about. The alcohol did sting the cuts they left however. I stood up and brushed myself off. I probably smelt like shit. I looked around me to see enormous walls of a derelict warehouse, birds were singing distantly outside. The light rained in through smashed windows. I could think up something poetic to say about that, but I won't. I took out my wallet, threw it down by the kid and then walked out into the sun which instantly felt like opening the door of an oven. It was beautiful. I hadn't felt this reborn in years. Maybe today would be different.  |
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