...like a woman does when two men in uniforms walk slowly up her porch, bearing news of her husband's, boyfriend's, son's death. He was no different, standing before the tombstone of deceased love. It was not a funeral, that had been years ago, or so he imagined. 1983 - 1995 where bold characters, engraved in the granite. Eleven when he was taken from the world, but it wasn't true. Floyd had known him and dated him and loved him for two years, when he was twenty-four. He saw him, kissed him, loved him yesterday. He was not murdered thirteen years ago; he was murdered yesterday. And Floyd saw it, he even saw it happen. He saw it just before it happened, but when the head of the eleven year old version of himself was dunked into the pool, drowned, he vanished next to him, and Floyd wailed and cried out for him, but his only option was to bang on the cage that held him. Steven, in a moment of immense empathy, grabbed Floyd into himself, trying to calm him, while Daniel worked on sending them back to the present.
---
I wanted to write something this morning. And the only thing that came to my head was a scene from a movie I was dreaming up called Protect your Past. It was one of the most touching scenes I had thought up, at least for me, and I wanted to write it out.
As always, comments / critiques are encouraged.
Aaron; Two buttons and a zip.
v3.01 - Fashion Control
Friday, April 18, 2008
Monday, April 14, 2008
Two Days on the Road
But it only took the first hundred miles to know it was perfect. The smell of cheep cologne on his body said, "I'm trying, please give me some credit." And it was cute. He blushed, nervous, but maybe it was something else. Two other 'friends' in the back. One with curly black hair, blowing across the back seat of the car, because the windows were rolled. The air conditioning broke a few years back. The other wore a constant frown. It was impossible to tell what small idiosyncrasy burned a hole through his happiness this time. Although, nobody showed expressions of caring, which lead him to believe they didn't. Most likely souring his mood again.
--
I'm so done. I miss Emma. And I also got to play with some of my friends in Scarshield. They're so cute, all... "OMG, you're gay! I love gay people." I just think that's so adorable. Anyway. I'm tired, and have a bit more studying to do tonight. Sweet dreams, my friends.
As always, comments welcome on my writing.
=_Aaron; Boy who likes Boys > Manly Man. (In respect to tanking. Bitch.)
--
I'm so done. I miss Emma. And I also got to play with some of my friends in Scarshield. They're so cute, all... "OMG, you're gay! I love gay people." I just think that's so adorable. Anyway. I'm tired, and have a bit more studying to do tonight. Sweet dreams, my friends.
As always, comments welcome on my writing.
=_Aaron; Boy who likes Boys > Manly Man. (In respect to tanking. Bitch.)
Friday, April 11, 2008
It's a Promise Ring

It's just a fucking promise ring; beautiful gold band burning the skin around my left-handed finger down to the muscle and bone. Engraved on the inside it says, "Love always," with this tone which I only understand. It makes me sick, the insincerity of it. "Love always." What does that mean, anyway? What happens when another girl catches his eye, and I'm left with a hand with only four fingers. He can love me all he wants, but I know it means shit. A woman scorn, maybe. But I'm not that simple. I desire to enjoy the company he brings. But the pain is an added side effect, I can no longer swallow. No, tomorrow, this beautiful piece of jewelry will burn a hole in his palm.
Aaron; Have you seen my face, I think I lost it on the horseback ride.
P.S. I heart u and miss you while you're in france.
Edit: I hate you, blogger.
Edit2: I hate you, Aaron
Thursday, April 10, 2008
His face looked like a steamroller...
... made its home on the very tip of his nose. The man was a sad sight to the people that passed him on the street, which his nose, which seemed broken and red. Broken because there was a decent possibility he was jabbed earlier and red from the cocaine which burned inside him. Yes, this man was a sad sight to the average man, but worse were those who stood by, allowing him to live as such.
How would you deal with him? Protect him by taking him into your home? Walk by with visors keeping you from believing he is really there? Or would you take a gun to his head, like he asks, and plaster his brains on the sidewalk?
Aaron; ...
(On another note; I have a new profile song: "Hide and Seek" by Imogen Heap. It beautiful. Listen to it. Here)
How would you deal with him? Protect him by taking him into your home? Walk by with visors keeping you from believing he is really there? Or would you take a gun to his head, like he asks, and plaster his brains on the sidewalk?
Aaron; ...
(On another note; I have a new profile song: "Hide and Seek" by Imogen Heap. It beautiful. Listen to it. Here)
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