A Creme Dip.
Seize the day.
They were his last words. Or, rather, they would have been, had anybody been around to witness them.
In the mirror. An image of himself.
Was it really that strange, that he aged so little over so many years? Almost seventeen, yet with a face of a fifteen-year-old.
As the straight spikes of his velvet black hair hung down over his forehead, he studied the object in front of him.
A thin wire. Loud tones emanating from every which way. Vibrations pulsing through the wire, and into his whole body.
He lived for himself. Selfish, but content. Never had he expected to find himself in a situation so. . . surreal.
Loud rumbles shook the room, the two ends of the thin wire throbbing with rythym, a structured dance of nature. Sound glowing, and overflowing around the room.
He spoke, in hushed tones.
"O withered rose, of which we speak. The future bright, the future bleak.
Of rose with which we use to talk. Of rose with which we use to chalk.
Tomorrow is today, but what the hey, let's wait until then.
It never knows, it never goes, never again.
Loving was so wrong, it's never strong enough, until.
The day I found, upon the ground, a letter from you.
It said to me, we'd never be, alone or apart.
Tomorrow never knows, it never goes, you broke my heart.
Feeling self-assured, but hardly cured, here it goes again.
Want to fuck around, without a sound? Let's wait until then.
Written in blue ink, I took a blink, reading lower.
Now just let me think, let's have a drink, get in sync, reading slower.
Emotions on the brink, fill the sink, tickled pink, it blows me.
What is all this stink? You lying fink, you fucking used me.
Used to make you rhymes, three for a dime, ain't got the time now.
Used to turn you on, you lazy con, I'm wondering how.
You decepted me, and I agree, you should have quit it.
Only thing left free, as I can see, why'd you do it?
Tomorrow is today, but not the
Bothersome, babbling, braindead and boring.
Cascading leaves neither sleeping or yawning.
Mellow and casual, but he's barely coping.
Callous, coldhearted, corroded and hoping.
She will say yes to him, eventually, so.
Without her, he fears, he never will know.
He needs her heart pumping, for him and him only.
Latticed with lies, he is lipid and lonely.
She cleanses his spirit, succinctly, divinely.
Tiptoeing quietly, incredibly, benignly.
He rolls on his heels, brushing her cheek lightly.
His thumb stroking her, slightly, but forthrightly.
Kissing and cuddling, caressing and caring.
All the things that they wish they were sharing.
Yet her love for another is solid and binding.
Erasing their history, pausing and rewinding.
Her love for the other has taken priority.
The other is manipulating, using authority.
Persuasive, pretentious, abrasive, tendentious.
Meanwhile the ex is fuming, contentious.
I'll care for you, eternally, become your everything.
She sat there, shivering, cautio