#1
C4C. Leave a link.

The moon chews up the sun and spits it out. Of course, this ghetto doesn't know the stars; the streetlights swallow the life from the sky like a cheap whore who bites too hard.

At McChesney Park little black kids play with broken glass and cut their fingers. Their screams are muffled by a boombox taped to a bicycle.

Laura and I pass by and see this. We mostly don't care at all. Laura is my ex-girlfriend and tonight we decided over our cell phones to "try and be friends". She broke up with me a month ago after two years of dating on and off. To me, there was a sense of finality to this one as she called me two days later with a dope dealers fingers down her throat. Because that's what we do when we OD strange girls, stick our fingers down their throat and throw them in the shower with their clothes on. Or at least, that's what I used to do.

We pass by the park and settle on 1st North street. I recline my seat, and she follows suit. I smoke a cigarette, and she mimics the way I light it and take a drag. I wonder if she knows she's using NLP, or if she's just naturally manipulative. She asks me about Angie, the girl I've been seeing since she left. I tell her everything I dislike about her, her anemic skin, vodka breath, and that when I look in her dead eyes I see Mike jumping six floors down. But, when she sings a sweet sad song, I swear I feel alive. She asks me if we've had sex yet, and I'm embarrassed to tell her that we haven't. I tell her that the only thing that gets me off any more is the thought of her sleeping with one of my friends. She laughs, and says that drives her ego mad, and plays with my hair. Hearing her giggle and seeing her stretch resurfaces thoughts of someone else inside her, and I tell her so. I grab her wrist and tell her if she doesn't bring me home I'll rape her.

So she drives me home and asks if she can come inside. I say yes. And in my room I force myself inside her to the sound of sirens and rap music through my window. She says I love you between moans and black mascara tears. She throws me down, and doesn't bite or swallow. But, I think she let me keep my life.
Last edited by clichealias at Sep 3, 2009,
#3
Wow. Lot in here that is massively connectable, and you manipulate it in a brilliant way. This was captivating. "lights" in my sig if you want, or if you haven't got to it yet.
#5
it takes a lot to live up to a title like that. a lot of expectations. i definitely think you met them. this isnt the most technical piece or even the most grotesquely realistic. But I think you definitely accomplished what you set out to write and I enjoyed it greatly. Oh, that ending was sick too.

ps. avocations are wildly overrated.
#6
Quote by AngryGoldfish
congratulations

that's the one.

you wrote 'whose' instead of 'who'.
There's only one thing we can do to thwart the plot of these albino shape-shifting lizard BITCHES!
#7
Quote by clichealias
C4C. Leave a link.

The moon chews up the sun and spits it out. Of course, this ghetto doesn't know the stars; the streetlights swallow the life from the sky like a cheap whore whose Que? bites too hard.

At McChesney Park little black kids play with broken glass and cut their fingers. Their screams are muffled by a boombox taped to a bicycle.

Laura and I pass by and look and mostly don't care at all. Laura is my ex-girlfriend and tonight we decided over our cell phones to "try and be friends". She broke up with me about a month ago after two years of dating on and off. To me, there was a sense of finality to this one as she called me two days later with a dope dealers fingers down her throat. Because that's what we do when we OD strange girls, stick our fingers down their throat and throw them in the shower with their clothes on. Or at least, that's what I used to do.
You are a bad, bad man

We pass by the park and settle on 1st North street. I recline my seat, and she follows suit. I smoke a cigarette, and she mimics the way I light it and take a drag. I wonder if she knows she's using NLP, or if she's just naturally manipulative. She asks me about Angie, the girl I've been seeing since she left. I tell her about everything I dislike about her, her anemic skin, vodka breath, and that when I look in her dead eyes I see Mike jumping six floors down. But, when she sings a sweet sad song, I swear I feel alive. She asks me if we've had sex yet, and I'm almost embarrassed to tell her that we haven't. I tell her that the only thing that gets me off any more is the thought of her sleeping with one of my friends. She laughs, and says that drives her ego mad, and plays with my hair. Hearing her giggle and seeing her stretch resurfaces thoughts of someone else inside her, and I tell her so. I grab her wrist and tell her if she doesn't bring me home I'll rape her.

So she drives me home and asks if she can come inside. I say yes. And in my room I force myself inside her to the sound of sirens and rap music through my window. She says I love you between moans and black mascara tears. She throws me down, and doesn't bite or swallow. But, I think she let me keep my life.


****ed up ****, man. Good stuff, but creepy. I feel like this is somewhat true. I don't think you're a rapist, but you too easily identify with this and become this for it not to have happened on some level.

Crit? Links in sig. Pick one.
#8
Quote by clichealias
C4C. Leave a link.

The moon chews up the sun and spits it out. Of course, this ghetto doesn't know the stars; the streetlights swallow the life from the sky like a cheap whore whose bites too hard.

Awesome imagery. Last line, change it to "who bites to hard" or "whose bite's too hard", it doesn't make sense as it is.

At McChesney Park little black kids play with broken glass and cut their fingers. Their screams are muffled by a boombox taped to a bicycle.

Loving it, hehe.

Laura and I pass by and look and mostly don't care at all. Laura is my ex-girlfriend and tonight we decided over our cell phones to "try and be friends". She broke up with me about a month ago after two years of dating on and off. To me, there was a sense of finality to this one as she called me two days later with a dope dealers fingers down her throat. Because that's what we do when we OD strange girls, stick our fingers down their throat and throw them in the shower with their clothes on. Or at least, that's what I used to do.


Oh, you sickeningly awesome bastard

We pass by the park and settle on 1st North street. I recline my seat, and she follows suit. I smoke a cigarette, and she mimics the way I light it and take a drag. I wonder if she knows she's using NLP, or if she's just naturally manipulative. She asks me about Angie, the girl I've been seeing since she left. I tell her about everything I dislike about her, her anemic skin, vodka breath, and that when I look in her dead eyes I see Mike jumping six floors down. But, when she sings a sweet sad song, I swear I feel alive. She asks me if we've had sex yet, and I'm almost embarrassed to tell her that we haven't. I tell her that the only thing that gets me off any more is the thought of her sleeping with one of my friends. She laughs, and says that drives her ego mad, and plays with my hair. Hearing her giggle and seeing her stretch resurfaces thoughts of someone else inside her, and I tell her so. I grab her wrist and tell her if she doesn't bring me home I'll rape her.

Dude, this is creepy, but it's so well written it's amazing.

So she drives me home and asks if she can come inside. I say yes. And in my room I force myself inside her to the sound of sirens and rap music through my window. She says I love you between moans and black mascara tears. She throws me down, and doesn't bite or swallow. But, I think she let me keep my life.

Awesome.


You are a great writer, man, and you really pulled this off.
Quote by Ur all $h1t
I stick stuff in my pee hole.

Gear:

Schecter C-1 Classic
Ibanez S670PB
Stratocaster MIM Standard
Marshall MG30 (its purple )
Dunlop Crybaby Wah
#9
Quote by mamosa
****ed up ****, man. Good stuff, but creepy. I feel like this is somewhat true. I don't think you're a rapist, but you too easily identify with this and become this for it not to have happened on some level.

Crit? Links in sig. Pick one.


It felt somewhat true because it is. No, I'm not a rapist. It's too complicated for me to explain why this doesn't constitute rape.
#10
Quote by clichealias
It felt somewhat true because it is. No, I'm not a rapist. It's too complicated for me to explain why this doesn't constitute rape.


Oh, thank god.

*picks up soap*
Quote by Ur all $h1t
I stick stuff in my pee hole.

Gear:

Schecter C-1 Classic
Ibanez S670PB
Stratocaster MIM Standard
Marshall MG30 (its purple )
Dunlop Crybaby Wah
#12
if she doesn't bring me home I'll rape her.


YABBA DABBA DOOOOOO!

Seriously though, you should write a book. I'd read it.
Better than Jesus, Megatron and T-Rex combined.

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(. Y .)(. Y .)
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This ^ is why I'm right.