blustocking | I'm fine. Thanks for asking.

Do you remember when you died?
Do you get off on your death rattle symphony? Do you remember the way your brain seized and your lips sputtered? Do you remember your last stupid thoughts? Do you? Do you fucking remember?
Bullshit. It's all bullshit.
Remember your jerking limbs and evacuating your bowels on cold linoleum. Never forget it, you cocksucking waste of human decency. Remember looking down at your completely inappropriate erection. Once, twice, blink, thrice...before fixing your wild, wide-eyed gaze upon my smirking countenance.
But most of all, remember my smile.
My Judas-kiss forever burned on your lips as you tremble and convulse, blood tenderly oozing from the corners of your mouth as your candy-coated orbs roll back into your mindless skull.
I'd fucking punch you, if you weren't already dead.

"Was in the merry month of May
When flowers were a bloomin'
Sweet William on his death-bed lay
For the love of Barbara Allen

Slowly, slowly she got up
And slowly she went nigh him
And all she said when she got there
"Young man, I think you're dying"

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This is what happens when I keep it in.
It reminds me of the book I started to write, yet have neglected for years now. Perhaps I'll start again. Pardon me, but I'm not crazy.

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