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his hair fell in his eyes, and god how i loved the way he looked. next to my foot the radio hummed with my newest ammunition, and i felt his insides sing while he bit his bottom lip like i was going to stick my fingers down his throat. i smiled, and then i started to laugh. spraying him with my ashtray of saliva and i remember his face cringing because i was so afraid. he had eyes the color of seaweed, and skin like bread i used to bake for the cats that everyone kicked with their spiked steel toed boots. i told him about them, once. and his hair was blue then, hanging to his top lip and he looked at the sky while whispering of nine lives. i said we only have 1, and he painted me with his cheeks and asked if these were truly our last days. snapping back he's doing his homework, chewing his pencil like he does when he can't swallow a math problem the right way. i talk about politics, and he asks if i'm a liberal. i wonder what kind of question that is while i suck in my inhaler, drinking the flowers down with my delicate little fingers. i know what it's like, when he cracks open the booze bottles and slips me a razor broken from his drunken breath. he carves elephants into his arm, and music notes into his palms. he explains the story of his life and i listen, a root beer can in my hands and the dragonflys busy making love in my hair. he opens up his shirt, and the muscles in his stomach remsemble mountains i used to climb hoping to reach the top. he draws a heart, and inside it he writes our names. side by side, twining like something off the movies. the fog looks like dry ice, and when i touch it i burn. i cough up my fathers car keys and take a step back to examine the world around me. in the far off corner there is a girl with amber eyes, dark hair, and mocha skin. she smells like garbage and sings like an angel you wouldn't believe. i fell asleep looking at her and when i woke up it was dark night. i thought i had gone blind and my clothes reaked of sweat and vomit. i looked towards my shoulder and it was him passed out in herion needles and vodka. "these are truly your last days," i wispered. he smiled through closed eyelids and i knew he remembered sitting on the bench, doing homework. i saw the faint outlines of the scar. of the heart with our names dancing side by side into oblivion. they say you should never tattoo your lovers name on yourself. and looking at the ceiling reading the fake glow in the dark stars instead of the real ones, i realized they're right.

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The following comments are for "my newest ammunition"
by HerChokingCharm

*a tear*
That was beautiful. That's all I can say.

( Posted by: gaschamberblues [Member] On: October 8, 2003 )

This is an intense read... reminds me of something from a long time ago. I'm glad I read this.


( Posted by: Safiyah [Member] On: October 8, 2003 )

Technically, this is wretched. But artistically, bravo! The drug thing feels a bit overdone and while I personally wouldn't tackle it you've done so with grace and a tortured sense of axiety. Nice. =D

( Posted by: Darkshine Raven [Member] On: October 8, 2003 )

The descriptive par of it was good and I enjoyed that it was sad yet grungy. I guess it's all perspective that determins whether you are going to like this or not, and somehow I don't feel that I liked it nor that I hated it. Either way, learn proper puctuation and capitals.

( Posted by: Rejected [Member] On: April 7, 2006 )

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