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mixcoatl
Mike Venegas
United States, CA, East Los Angeles

Words: 409
Access: Public
Comments: 1

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Blue-Light Special

The blue light broke monotony of the black surrounding,
the purest flame would not be extinguished.
Deeper and richer into the closet and beyond,
old books and paper littered the floor,
plastic bags and clothes hung off the bar.
Their shadows reflected depth against the wall,
a family of four,
hanging,
the youngest,
ten years old,
still kicking his feet.

The blue torch rolled over the side,
reaching for it, I felt like Prometheous giving fire to the mortals.
Pulling it up, I let it burn through the books.
A silent flame, a cold-heat would never set a fire.
Cinder ash dusted away and caught onto a box.
The box old, decrepit, water stained, it ripped,
open,
as I pulled, towards me
a yearbook, '97, Belvedere
and '95 autograph book.

The blue light became my flashlight.
Somehow these books survived the great fire of 2000.
The books creeked open like hardwood panelling,
the glue gives way father than a fire could've killed them.
My fingers slip and cut through the glossy paper,
hanging dead names start to rot in my brain again.
Cut up,
the pages of those gone,
No more, I said,
the brown bag slips out.

The blue spotlight lead his way out of the bag.
He coughed and dusted his clothes,
"So you're back," he said,
No, not again. I quaked at what he'd have me say.
I sweated what he would have me do.
"You know we're going to talk about them, right?"
A gun,
we kept it hidden,
away from my, then,
teenager hands.

I came back and took aim at his marble sized head.
"You know you're not going fire that," he said.
Why, why did you comeback, "Because,
You played with the light. You made me. You brought me back."
I sat down on the bed and laid back against the wall.
"Don't worry," he said, "It'll be fun."
He started to climb up my leg and chest.
I pulled out the mag, only one slug left, I slammed it back in.
He climbed into my ear, "Are you sure you want to do this?" he echoed.
No, I don't,
cocked the hammer,
bit down on the barrel.
One, "What's all this?"
Two, "I'm nearly through."
Three, "There are you ready?"
Click, bang.
INSPIRATION SOARED!

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Comments  
JohnnySodoff Comment by: JohnnySodoff - 2006-11-20 12:43
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I'm not gonna go into everything right now, but I do wanna say that these words are awesome... oh, and THAT FUCKING RULED!
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By mixcoatl

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