Hobbyist

He guessed it was love; stroked her cheek.  To him, she might have been too pretty, but nothing else was attractive.  The whole world was filled with things that didn't mean anything.  Nothing could make him feel.
Her eyes, beautiful like roses, looked down.  He hands rested uselessly against him, he pulled his face closer to hers...

"And you won't even feel a thing"  Said the doctor.
Liar.  I could sense the needle puncturing my arm, digging into skin to reach blood. I knew when he pushed in whatever it was, I noticed a difference as my blood mixed with the substance.  Still, I kept my eyes away.  I didn't want to see the doctor.

Light stained his reptilian skin.  He wore a sheen of white squares on the undressed backs of his hands, his lab coat hung long.  He retracted the needle.  A small bubble of blood formed from the minuscule cavity, and it grew to a drop, and grew to a tear.  Staining the skin as it went.

Just then the poison set in.  Deathly pain wracked her body.  She convulsed and convulsed and convulsed.  In a matter of seconds her eyes were blank.  Sad, hurt, surprised, but dead and blank.

The human showed no reaction.  The human had reached a point where nothing else mattered but death.

The reptile shook his head
The man did nothing but stare
And she did the same

There was no winning.






I had a daydream and I wanted to record it.  Hopefully this shows quite well what it was.  Some sort of unnamed passion for an unnamed girl.  Then a flashback, or sort of a transportation out of time to a hospital-like setting.  Except the doctor is really a demon.  This demon torments someone who has been killed on the inside.  And what the demon did, we go back to the passion, kills him even more.  The woman was an unfortunate victim.  Sort of collateral.
Isn't that what we are?
Players in our own lives
Collateral to everyone else.




stay beautiful