Sorry if you're all tired of reading my very depressing suicide driven work... but here's another one. Hoo-ray.
As per my usual stuff, this one has a weird format. The typical dual-story format.
There are four characters in this, in the event you can't figure out who they are.
1. My consciousness.
2. My sense of self.
3. My corpse
4. My Inner Child.
- My car is parked -
I am strolling through the woods. There is a pile of leaves on the ground. I am inclined to investigate.
- I walk out my door -
I walk to the pile, it has a forboding scent of rotting to it. I can see a black bag buried.
- I feel for the keys in my pocket -
I close my eyes and plung my foot into the center of mass. It makes contact with a solid object halfway through.
- I open the car door -
I begin removing clumps of leaves until only air covers the artifact. I rip a hole in the bag.
- I turn on the car -
My corpse stares vacantly into my own eyes. A tear descends my cheek. I brush my hair back.
- My car carries me from my neighborhood -
The single tear drops to my pale face. I wipe it from my corpse as I gave down his body.
- I turn onto the highway -
We wear the same out, all attributes congruent save the shards of glass and blood.
- Every inclination and impulse demands I swerve into oncoming traffic. How horrid it is to deny yourself the only thing that which you desire, a crime galvanized on the anniversary of your untimely creation -
I hold my corpse closer to my breast. No more tears to be shed, only a stark jealousy. his strength is unlike my own. He can do it, so can I.
- I release the steering wheel -
For what purpose do I continue to stare at myself? Some morbid admiration of the dead?
- The car begins to drift westward -
My child releases from my heart, then he stands before me. He is holding the hand of my corpse and he looks at me with a mocking confusion. I try to stare into his eyes, but it is too difficult to bare. So many questions to give him, yet no vibration escapes my mouth. He nods. He smirks. He changes form. A crown is born to his head while clothes retreat from his body. A malice crosses his lips as I avert my eyes.
- Horns blare, I close my eyes and return to my side of the road. Cowardice -
He kicks my corpse's ribs. I return to glare at him and his form has changed. He has grown younger, wearing clothes I cannot recognize. He throws himself to the ground and screams, yet this action does not fit his character.
- Unaccepted cowardice. I accelerate -
I ask who he is, he replies in an infantile manner. The image of my mother is burned into my skull. The child stands to defy me. I do not remember life in that manner, it cannot be true. Once more he returns to the nude and crowned image as I run away from him. The woods accumulate a fog, the trees grow taller, larger, as I run past them.
- I am driving a back road, it is raining and my jeep slides on the road -
I duck into a bush, my heart is racing. Laughter ricochets from the surrounding trees.
-a bolt of fear arcs across my chest -
My child leaps before me. He points to my heart, begging to come to my arms yet I deny him. His hateful smile sharpens his finger as it points to my soul. I feel him penetrating it with his dark being. I shriek that I am not, and yet he persists.
- the wheel jerks left, the car right -
I fall to my knees, he drags me back to my corpse. Rotting flesh falls from my hands. The body festers under the heated attention of my child and myself.
-The impact of the trees on the roof jar my senses. Prays of absolution to an unspoken creator echo violently through my skull. Their intent unnoticed by anyone by the Voice -
My child tears a portion of my heart out. He forces me to eat it. The taste is repugnant for a moment, yet the quality is indisputably familiar. He says it has been inside me since the dawn of his finality. I grow nauseous, yet unrelieved. He feeds me the rest of my heart and the corpse awakens.
- Before my vessel crushes under the weight, my body is throw through the windshield -
It is unalarmed of the action, yet shows unrestrained anger. He growls at me. You are never to be saved, you lost soul. You are your birth, your actions. You are me. You are all that is baneful and cause of vengeance. You are horrid, you cannot be spared. You see your child? You created him. You once controlled him, now you are given his image to remind you of what you had done. You are me. You are we.
- my legs are broken, my throat cut. My clothes destroyed. There is excruciating pain, yet no sign of a coming release. A plastic bag floats next to me, caught on the splintered bone from my arm -
My corpse stands on severed knees. I fall to the ground. My Child and my re-animate tower above me. They scream my name which is their names. I press my head to the ground.
- I envelope myself in the bag, hoping the suffocating death will end my misery. I sob, whispering regrets to living my life in question. I sob, whispering my hopes of forgiveness of the hated I have ensewn to myself. I sob as I whisper my questions as to why anything came to be -