Choices [or, the day that came way too soon]
Tue, 3 Jul 2007 at 12:29am
untitled
I was up for hours.
Not doing anything, just sitting hunched over on my mattress, sobbing.
It was like suffering, except I was still waiting for the torture.
I could hear it down the hall, periodically growling deeply, but not moving.
It would not make the first move.
And I am not ready.
So I go the other way.
Out the door, up a flight of stairs, then a short ladder, and through a hatch in the ceiling.
The air shivers my already weakened body.
I reluctantly look up to the sky, wishing there was something there for me.
But the stars are just too far away.
This is as far as I can go.
The end of the road.
So what do I do from here?
I look back at the hatch and cringe at what awaits me on the other side.
And I look over at the ledge, contemplating simply calling it quits while I have the chance.
And then there's the gun sitting in my room.
Oh my, choices...
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i read this yesterday, and i came back to read it again... i liked that you personified torture. gave it a shape, a face, a name.
the bitter twist at the end leaves a metallic taste. and throughout the piece, you can feel the bone-cold emptiness.
which is why i came back. it haunted me. plus one (of my measly new person votes)
This is a rather random story, but your poem reminded me of something written by Catullus, an ancient...err...Greek, I think, poet. He was in one of my courses I took last semester, and one of the lines translated to "it shivers me." And you used something similar. I thought it strange, since that doesn't seem like it should be a common phrase.
Anyway.
I liked the abruptness of the ending a lot. And lots of stuff about it, but it's late and I'm not comprehensible, so if I tried to explain it'd probably come out making me sound crazy.
Perhaps I'll re-comment tomorrow, when I'm not tired. I'll read the other one tomorrow so that you can have at least one sensible comment.