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Did I actually wrote this? Damn. (Repost from 4/8/2012)
Posted by Dan. Ee.
on
5:31 PM
Three corpses lie in front of me. Lighted by the laptop's pale white
light of condescending nature. The light, it seems to mock the stiff,
bodies that lay there. It was a testament to my impatience, and the
unholy bloodlust that I have to seem have developed as of late.
But yet they kept coming. They taunt me.
They want to see how many more I can take before I finally succumb.
It is as if the corpses of their brothers and sisters that I have happily murdered were just mere puppets to test my mettle.
I sit here, the room covered in darkness. My naked upper half remains unguarded, unarmored, laying itself wide open to as if goad my enemies into taking the first strike. But my eyes remain wild and calculating. It darts from left to right, waiting, for that moment when it darts its black figure across the stark whiteness of the computer screen.
*CLAP*
Another body falls on the keyboard of laptop, its quivering frame refusing to give in to the reaper's scythe. But hope is all but extinguished; I have not yet noticed its limp, but shivering body that tries to crawl itself away from its apparent landing spot. It hopes to crawl into some blind spot, recover from the beating that I have given it, and strike at me again in order to devour the fresh blood that lies beneath my skin.
But it is too late.
But yet they kept coming. They taunt me.
They want to see how many more I can take before I finally succumb.
It is as if the corpses of their brothers and sisters that I have happily murdered were just mere puppets to test my mettle.
I sit here, the room covered in darkness. My naked upper half remains unguarded, unarmored, laying itself wide open to as if goad my enemies into taking the first strike. But my eyes remain wild and calculating. It darts from left to right, waiting, for that moment when it darts its black figure across the stark whiteness of the computer screen.
*CLAP*
Another body falls on the keyboard of laptop, its quivering frame refusing to give in to the reaper's scythe. But hope is all but extinguished; I have not yet noticed its limp, but shivering body that tries to crawl itself away from its apparent landing spot. It hopes to crawl into some blind spot, recover from the beating that I have given it, and strike at me again in order to devour the fresh blood that lies beneath my skin.
But it is too late.
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