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schizoptimistics
Ross Lang
United States, Ohio, Columbus

Words: 461
Access: Public
Comments: 1

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Penny for your thoughts?

Caustic acid burns through the trash cans of the cities’ biggest intersection, infiltrating from above the two hearts that wander wrestling ways through crowded streets. Desire is but a perk of the human psyche enabling the frontal lobes and ultimitely ending up in fulfillment of now childish needs. Think we need? Or need to need? Words fall victim to the incisions of sarcasm introduced to the innocent fish through the bloodstream of rivers and cracks in the street, how lovers’ eyes gleamed with tears when told this is just a dream. Pity is worthless when in the hands of the merciless, lessons learned the hard way or learned not at all, I fall and she falls, paths connect inside coffee shops and malls where our names are more distant than north and south poles, but in proximity we could see eachothers heartbeats. Repeat, and cut down to earth the truth on a mangled rope, she grabs it and is hoisted out into the reaches of my atmosphere, which is to say not far for my world is ten feet around me and the past doesn’t get so much as a backwards glance. Inside her sphere of truth and humanly desires, liars and town criers went mad at the sight of something new being discovered, each had his own interpretation of the event, and I assure you they weren’t identical. Taken back by words that fell through the cracking glass on which she was now standing I jumped. Not up but even further down for the added weight of her confessions would make even the mightiest of men stumble and fail. Word after word it pummeled my body, my temple was being destroyed by something that I had unknowingly created with what I thought were words of love and acception. Perception plays games with the hearts of men and I was no exception. Notebooks and cameras were aimed at the sky, catching words to repeat so the world could be aware that LOVE still exisits in the holiest of places, and life is a measure of pain and bliss, of something missed, a whisper refracting from the waves of a teardrop, heaven sent, it was just as she wished. Taken into account from the liars view it was a story of the tragic two where love was gone and admitted to have been absent for some time even though there was no legal proof. The criers account was much more accurate it explained what happens when two hearts fade and never merge like they were supposed to with fate, and how the strings of time are now tainted. If we wondered exactly why the end is at hand, well look at your hands, they are not the only ones bleeding.

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Comments  
MsMoney83 Comment by: MsMoney83 - 2007-11-13 19:11
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I like this a lot! This has very fresh powerful language, good imagery. It is something you could read over and over and find something different.
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By schizoptimistics

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