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<center>http://img440.imageshack.us/img440/9...rkangeljt6.jpg
I'll place your justice in my palm
and then I'll make fist
and punch your grimaced face
until every last knuckle breaks
and bleeds
In resistance to my sidewalk painting
A mangled body
twitching and regaining
consciousness and closure
Attempting composure before
a bullet in the mouth
answers the questions of exposure
And God
Of Sunday School fa?ades
and paycheques to validate the time I served abroad
It all means nothing if I forget why I'm here
To serve and protect my fist over fist
mind under matter career
That's why a man sounds kind of funny
when he falls to his knees
With his hand on his throat while he begs you to please
spare his life
While I explain the hardest of bodies dulls the softest of knives
Then I hold up his head and carve X's in his eyes
I swear I have compassion
I've just been trained to disregard the prisoner's life
'cause I am the prison guard</center>
(Protest The Hero)
<font color="#660000 " size="1">[ June 27, 2007 12:17 AM: Message edited by: of abated value ]</font>
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Lady Anjali was right. Their prophecies were a whole other Hell on Earth in their dreams. They seemed more real than life itself. Sometimes she couldn't separate the two. Her dreamworld was completely white and blank. There were no colors, and instead of violent pictures or blood and breaking bones, she got to view a Star Wars screen with paragraphs upon paragraphs of black Arial 10 font sins rising into an always black sky with a full moon to light its way.
She had often wondered if the narcolepsy was related to her mysterious powers, or the strange telepathy that she was able to share with her confidant and best friend.
And the blood came pouring down in sheets, whipping like the trees against the tornadic wind. The monsters lashed about and ripped the feeble flesh bound homosapiens to shreds, using the bones to pick the grime from their teeth. The girl with the broken glasses stared towards the sky and asked God why. He reminded her that the why wasn't important. What was important was the strength she found within her own heart to save the planet from its ultimate demise. She was the only one, the shining New Hope that gleamed much like the Northstar had before it fell to the Earth and created a giant crator, now landmarked as the Fall of Mankind and the Rise of the Beast. Lightning struck all around her as if it grew from the ground, and all of the ghosts kneeled at her feet. Was it destiny?
She was half out of it when Anjali came crawling into her bed as she did almost every night when she chose to actually sleep. Other nights, she kept watch over the Princess, face lit by a lamp at the small desk in the corner of her room.
"Anjali," she whispered to the demons hiding in the closet. It was no rumor that she was a sleep-walker. Often times when she did have her bouts of narcolepsy, this is what happened and Anji would have to rush her home. Trixie was actually being possessed. She put a hex on her best friend that would probably last a lifetime. Then, she collapsed on the floor.
She woke to violent shaking, and a familiar face. The sun was bright.
<font color="#660000 " size="1">[ June 24, 2007 12:58 PM: Message edited by: of abated value ]</font>
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"Hush little baby, don't say a word... mama's gonna buy you a mocking bird... and if that mockingbird don't sing.. Mama's gonna to buy you a diamond ring..."
Trixie had probably spent over half of her life sleeping. The doctors had always said it was a forced coma of sorts. A desperate attempt to 'escape reality.' Her way of creating an outlet, much like an abused child would with split and multiple personalities. The narcolepsy was out of control, and mom and dad were what she liked to refer to as 'extreme Christians.' They wouldn't have her taking any medicine for a disease that could be solved through God. Hell, in their mind her whole personality could be solved through God. She didn't blame them for thinking so. She didn't blame them for anything. She only ever blamed herself.
"So what the fuck kind of a name is Trixie anyways?" The punk gave her a small shove into a wall.
She prepared herself for the inevitable beating, and she had no idea why she just didn't go ahead and take her wallet out of her jeans and give up. She wouldn't even try to defend herself as she felt one calloused hand move around her throat, and the other start to grope its way around her body.
"Well look at this. A thirteen year old gropin' a girl, tryin' to get his tiny little dick up. You haven't even gone through puberty yet, I'm sure." She said it quietly, meekly, a hoarse voice also of a thirteen year old. She sounded aged.
Her dark eyes looked up to the sky, and for the millionth time she lowered herself. She brought herself down. She punished herself. From a back alleyway in Compton, she could never hope to fly as freely as the bird she wanted to be. Things were rough... especially if you were a pathetic, ninety-pound honkey.
And that's when she passed into her coma. Sometimes the narcolepsy worked in her favor, it seemed.
"Trixie! Trixie! I'm so sorry! Come back!" She heard a familiar voice calling her back from the dead. It was riddled with hopelessness and decay. Then she felt something wet on her face. She felt the tears washing off the blood.
The brown eyes opened once again to see the sky, and she groaned. The Princess, Anjali, was there, and soon her face flooded the already blurry view.
"Don't cry, Princess." Trixie's voice cracked. "I would die defending you any day." She forced a bloody mouth, broken tooth smile and brought a palm to rest on one of Anjali's cheeks. She exhaled, the hand fell back to the pavement, and she was out.
<font color="#660000 " size="1">[ June 24, 2007 11:59 PM: Message edited by: of abated value ]</font>
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She hated the bleached smell of the hospital. She hated the nurses. She hated how they always opened the blinds in the morning without asking her first. Trixie was making one of her regular visits to the hospital, and she downed her medicine while she listened to the doctor idly make jokes with the nurse.
"I don't think there's a bone in her body this girl hasn't broken." He chuckled.
"That's for damn sure." Trixie had the slightest feeling that the nurse might have actually cared because she had also grown up in Compton. "Trixie. You need to get yourself a gun."
Trixie passed out into one of her comas at hearing that... but she definitely would not forget the suggestion.
Although the glasses were broken and lenses were barely held together by silver duct tape, she could see a more mended world than what everyone else did. She looked down to her feet and then her eyes slowly rose looking at the rags she was dresed in, the pasty color of her skin. Again she asked her Leader why, but he couldn't tell her. She walked into the woods and found her own Ex-Calibur like King Arthur. She had read part of the story once, scribbled on a stone of some ancient ruins. Then out of nowhere, she heard a mans voice.
"With this tool, you will break the demons and smash the Devil. I will teach you how. Your time is coming. Find me."
The voice was somewhat familiar to her, but was forgotten as soon as it dissapeared into the shadows of the once luscious green wood.
Trixie woke back up in her own bed at home tangled in the sheets, and deafened by the blaring TV in the next room. She could picture her dad in there in his reclining chair getting drunk as he always did. Mom was probably out having sex and getting high somewhere. And everyone wondered where Trix got her mind-expanding drugs. She took some from mommy's panty drawer and tried not to wake her father on her way out.
"Disgusting fuck..." Whispered as she skipped out the door, obviously on her way to meet Anjali.
-
The writer had done everything in her power to raise the money to buy her own car. She had stooped low to earn the money, she had stolen, she had scraped, she had begged on the streets, and when she brought the orange, broken down Pinto home, all anyone did was laugh. Sure it wasn't much, but she had done it all on her own. It's not like the laughing joker's would be of any importance to her tomorrow. They would be eating her trail of dust.
Trixie made sure to lock the door on her precious auto, and made her way upstairs where she started to pack. There wasn't much, and she wasn't sure how the fuck they were going to stay alive, but it was the only thing she could think about. This was her last chance to become the bird she had always dreamed about, flying high amongst the clouds.
Her always sad brown eyes looked out of the window to the horizon. The sun was going down. She'd only sleep in this place one night longer, and tomorrow she'd be on the road with her soulmate, fighting for a better future.
The sun seemed especially bright the next day, and she had to block her eyes for a few moments. Her lips formed a meager smile. She gathered her duffle bags, papers, pens, and pencils and walked out of her room. She had timed it just right to where she wouldn't run into her parents. They were out doing God knows what. Fortunately enough, she wouldn't utter a single 'good bye' this time.
The ride to the Princess' appartment wasn't very far. She honked the horn, and gleamed from inside the car, head halfway hanging out of the rolled down window. When the Lady crammed her things in, and finally took a seat by the driver, Trixie smiled like she'd never have a chance to smile again. The warm affection from her partner-in-crime was welcomed, and it was all she could do to hold the tears back.
"Two girls, against the world." They wouldn't have wanted it any other way.
-
And just like that, Jerry was gone and out the door. He had decided to cowboy-up and went along on his merry way, forgetting about the girl who had damn near saved him from dying thousands of times.
Trixie had a tendency to attract the weak. On the other hand, she didn't really care. She saw it as her job to help those smaller than herself. Many times she had thought When will someone rescue me? Am I the only one who's so unselfish? Why can't I turn my heart off?
She sat in a pile on the wood floor in the foyer after watching him leave. Her arms were stretched out, her nose jammed into the floor, and in a very awkward turned position at her hips. Obviously she had tried to pull him back and grasp his ankle. Of course, being around one hundred pounds hadn't helped at all in that effort.
He was her first, and was probably going to be her last. Who could put up with a girl like her? She was hopeless, and as she lay there, she prayed for sleep. Trixie numbed herself, and she didn't move for hours.
When she finally decided to look at the clock, it read four a.m. She wondered where Princess Anjali was. She searched for her cell phone and eventually found it. A palm was laid to rest over her lips when she flipped it open and saw the background picture of her and her now ex-boyfriend. She arrowed through her list of contacts until she came to his number. She pressed the call button.
"You've reached Jerry. Leave a message, fucker." Of course he wouldn't answer his phone. Whenever she decided to go out on a limb, things usually backfired. After the beep she waited before speaking, on the verge of tears, but she had learned a long time ago that crying didn't help anything. She never cried.
"Jerry... I... I don't know what to say..." She paused, trying to make it sound sincere. "Please. Come back." She didn't know what to say because she had never done anything in the first place. She just supposed he 'needed his space.'
Jerry never came back. He was eventually forgotten. Trixie had the Princess to thank for that.
<center>
RIP
http://img503.imageshack.us/img503/4...162243lqm2.jpg
I've been badly beaten
But somehow I've stumbled on
And this wonderland you planed for me
Never felt like home
And the more I tried the more I realized
I don't believe in things I cannot see
I've had enough
Don't you understand I'm half the (wo)man?
I've said enough
The life I used to live I have left behind
The pile of doubt you had in me went on to shine I am over
I am gathered, strong unstoppable
You remember how I used to be
You remember a connection so strong
You remember how sweet it was
You remember only you
But the more I tried the more I realized
I don't believe in things I cannot see
I've had enough
Don't you understand I'm half the (wo)man?
I've said enough
The life I used to live I have left behind
The pile of doubt you had in me went on to shine
I am over
I am gathered, strong unstoppable
I don't believe in things I cannot see
I've had enough
Don't you understand I'm half the (wo)man?
I've said enough
The life I used to live I have left behind
The pile of doubt you had in me went on to shine
</center>
(Green Carnation)
-
<center>http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/4...ons5001yz5.jpg
Into a strange new world, into the after
All your tears might find you've fallen too far
Take another look, take another ride
Can't we make them leave the hate behind
And I still believe in nothing
Will we ever see the shape of tomorrow?
Into the empty storm, into the formless loss of hope,
Where we can forget the game
And I still believe in nothing
Will we ever see the cure for our sorrow
Nothing is sacred when no one is saved
Nothing's forever so count your days
Nothing is final and no one is real
Pray for tomorrow and find your empty still
Nothing</center>
(Nevermore)
-
"Go away."
"No."
"Please?"
"Don't think so."
"I'm feeling the need to murder you right about now."
"You're too drunk."
"How come you never come out of my closet? Or out from under my bed?"
"Because then you could see me. That would be no fun. Scaring you is what I do best."
"Sorry buddy. But you ain't so scary. A gun being held to your face in a back alleyway of Compton? Priceless." Trixie chuckled.
"Mhmm." Then her other half did. "I remember that." It chuckled from it's hiding place.
"So why don't you come on out? Have a drink with me?" The writer acknowledged the presence of herself.
"Because you've had enough for the both of us."
"Cigar?" A joke.
The masked one ho ho ho'd. "You should sleep."
"If it'll keep you out of my mind for a while, I will."
"Why don't you love me?"
"Because I don't love myself." Burp. "I live for self-hate. It's fucking tattooed on my ass in French Script... and that shit ain't never coming off." Finally watched as her mirror-image came out of the closet. She figured she'd be taken aback, but was more or less not stunned.
"Lets become one."
"'Fraid I won't be too much fun in this state, honey." She grinned, stood and started to pull her shirt off.
"No. I mean. Lets become one. Whatever you call it."
"Becoming one with you would mean giving up on myself. You're just trying to trick me like you always do. You must have no love or appreciation for your host. With but a snap of my fingers, you'd be gone forever."
"It's not that easy, unfortunately for you." It grinned like the Demon it was.
Trixie snapped her fingers. "Be gone, Demon!"
It drug(ged) her into the closet.
<font color="#660000 " size="1">[ June 26, 2007 10:55 PM: Message edited by: of abated value ]</font>
