netchick15

An empty thought has once more than twice entered my mind. I thought of those that needed to be thought of. Not prayed for, not helped…Just thought of. I wondered, for a moment, if my thoughts helped. If the blood vessels swirling beneath my eyelids were a sign of some sort. I sought to find patterns, shapes, colors. All I saw was a churning mass of red and black, imploding on itself over and over again. A pattern, perhaps: the imploding. Or perhaps it was pure nonsense. Either way, it was the needy of whom I thought, wondering just if my thoughts would affect them in any way. Of course, I ruled out that they would suddenly jolt awake an

Unloyal proletariat of sins Working, slaving, dripping with blood and sweat mingled into a pink waterfall. Whips crackle, lick my skin with spiked tongues. The pain numbs, eats at my soul, claws at my burning eyes. I scream, clench my teeth, collapse to embrace the sodden Earth. Sodden with my blood. More whips, sears of fire. I stand, the whip is mine. One, four, ten lashes. Bare feet thrum the rocks. I run faster, faster. Nearly there. I reach, claw, dig. Almost to the surface, I can taste the air. A blistered, bleeding head breaks through the ground. Triumph.