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She was twisted in hysterics, her hair frantically touselled around her face appeared as stripped power lines that would ripple in the reflections of the puddles that she now stammered through as quick as her frail legs would take her.
It started off so innocently, curiosity; a warmth and understanding that she thought could never be corrupted. she pulled her hood over her eyes and stared up at the night sky... the rain screaming down descened on her pale complexion like a million tiny daggers. Her pink eyes seemed to glow in the multitude of mirrored surfaces reflecting moon and streelight; tiny galaxies in the mundane. She was trapped again, in this hell he's created for her, dreams and memories of bliss all meshing together into some psuedo surreality that has made her question her sanity ever since arriving.
Their relationship was that of teacher and student, mother and daughter, best friends. drug addict to user. Now she regretted showing him anything, but then, she learned a lot from him too, things she knew she would've never learned by not exposing the potential.
He slams his fists in torment against the concrete, his hand crushes and regenerates itself, he bleeds crimson diamonds from his steel blue/grey eyes. His flowing jet black wings wrap several times around his shoulders resting their tips just beside his chiseled cheekbones. He was stunning, extremely gorgeous for a man, tall, muscular thin, his eyes full of sadness hid an extremely dark obsession. The same obsession which has consumed them both.
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"Indica, can you hear me?"
Her wild eyes darted around, a shiver passed through her body, she gripped onto her cloak and clutched it tighter to herself.
"If you can hear me, show me, show me you care"
Her throat closed up and her hands run numb in a snowless frostbite.
"I... I....", she blurted out
"I'm always here", she regained her composure and said with a stunning defiance.
She now pulls off her hood, her pale pink locks push their way forward, her expression like that of an icicle, and she reels back ready to smash a thousand dendrites with her crude mouth, half open, decorated with full plush lips ornamented her perfect smile in a bejeweled glitter of passion and rage.
"WHY HAVE YOU BROUGHT US HERE" she now snaps with conviction.
"me?", he chuckles softly.
"It isn't I, who perpuates this, Indica, you can free us from this"
"At what cost?
Have you ever even considered that?"
"I have considered all options immensly, 10 years is too long to ponder over such notions"
"...and after all this time.. you still can't just let it be?" she trailed off now, thinking back again, flashbacks of memories hitting her like camera flashes in car-rides down I-95. Who was this man, who she met as just a boy, who was so naive to the world.. is this truly whom he's become?
He stared down at his arms, going over the cracks that drew lines of intersections were road maps into his destruction. scars, and tattoos percolated the surface of his nearly albino white complexion.
He stared at his right arm: The lovers. a male and female angel embracing eachother, smiling with subtle perfection. a field of faded blue roses cascade the background like blue novas in a navy skyline of hope and compassion. They gaze longingly at eachother forever left in their divine bliss.
He stared at his left arm: The solitude. Here the female angel now twisted and chatoic has smeared black lipstick and eyeliner that creates dramatic puddles of sadness as her tears of wasted opportunity spew forth onto the male angel dead and twisted as well. his lifeless body hangs like a noose from her chest. Flames and barbwire scrape the edges of them trapped by iron bars and the sign for gemini on a lock sealing them in forever.
And it was this scene that he chose to engrave closest to his heart. As he rose his charcoal wings slithered off his chest revealing the olde english style lettering: Alabaster
Chapter 1: Verse 1: The Lovers
Soulmates, you see, are not all that uncommon. It is in fact, of our own faults that we don't "find" them. In the way that many percive life to be unfair, for it is truly themselves which is off balance not the scale of the world. In our foolish eyes we have overlooked the children, who are our greatest teachers. They don't use themselves as a means to their own destruction. They don't discriminate against age, race, creed, they only discriminate against those that have wronged them.
I don't know if that's how we used to see ourselves. When we sat awkward across the bed from eachother, and the cloud of smoke was like a hazy fog that cradled my worries lazy. And the cliche alterna-rock would go on for hours. And the laughter and conversation would go on for hours. These were simple times, my greatest stress being that of trying to hold down my part time job at the local grocer, finding a girlfriend, and homework. But it never stopped me from being melodramatic all the time, from being this lost insecure boy who was just trying so hard to drown in gallons of alcohol and smoke.
But there was one shining star there wasn't there? Was there? Is that me holding on to some daydream fairy tale romantic novel soap opera movie scheme? "You're the only goodness I got left" And she replies back through tears, "I'm always here" You feel her warm body melt into yours and like Shel Silverstein's Missing Piece is the perfect fit. Only we didn't move too fast and miss all the scenery. Those polaroids, scraps of drawings, poems, snippits of songs long forgotten now form lush tapestries, glorius skyscrapers in cities of hope and happiness.
A place we'd never get to, a place where no normal person could ever get to. Alienus agnito ait. Indica was the name you took on when you got your wings. In this life I knew you as Deja.
There is an extremely refined energy that lives in the love of soulmates, that is why it is us who have grown bitter from life who are no longer able to find it. It is within our own imprisonment that we must fear that which can set us free, yet continue to look for it in futility. "Have you forgotten how to love yourself" and our pursuits to get to the very bottom of it all scraped away any shard of divine knowledge we had left. We dumb down ourselves with drugs and I think: I need a place to hide and your arms look like home tonight.
And we accommodated eachother, if there was a tear that were to fall, by God, let it be caught in the soft embraces of your grace. We had things kings conquested into foreign regions for, all in simple hoody sweatshirts and cotton socks; The proverbial nipple in our mouths: an eternal outlet of youth for us to plug into.
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He scratched the side of his face, his nails scrape against the sandpaper-like grain of his perpetual 5 o'clock shadow. He tips the muddy amber bottle to his lips nodding at the picture frame on his bedside table. He pushes a stringy black lock away from his cold harsh eyes. He stares long and hard at the blank piece of paper in front of him. Fidgetting a bit, he reaches for his cell phone and begins mindlessly thumbing digits.
"Hello?"
He winces a bit and tries to not breath or make any noticable sound. *click* He jumps from his chair, kicking assorted trash out of the way and pulling on his heavy black peacoat reaches for his set of car keys. The door of his jet black 69 mustang coupe slams shut, firm with convicition and his screeching tires drop a thick dark streak of rubber on the concrete. He drives up to the docks that overlook the Long Island sound, taking in the distinct salty smell and watching the moonlight ripple in the water. He stares long and hard.
April 22nd 1997. Tonight, we went up to your "clubhouse" in the great tree just behind main blvd. Sure we could see all the traffic and passerbyes, but because of it's great canopy they never had any idea we were back there, except maybe for some giggling; Or you with that loud-ass mouth of yours. How many times, stumbling drunk walking you to your door, making our way behind the large picket fences of your neighbors, did I have to shush you and keep you from getting the cops called on us. I always did admire your rebelious "I don't give a shit" attitude. I used it for my model several years later when i found some naive girls to mindfuck. Oh, it's so much better than a normal fuck wouldn't you say? All these things remade me and caused to be something grand. That was the first night I told you I loved you. At the time I didn't know what the fuck I was talking about. I said it, because I felt something. In retrospect, I still am not really sure what it was, but I don't feel like I was particularly wrong given the nature of us currently. The moonlight played in your hair like 1000 fairies dancing in puddles during downpour. And that was my first real glimpse of the potential.
surfacing again
all these feelings
you wore my coat
that night
half your face basked in moonlight
the stars and cold breeze
remember that tingly smell?
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Alabaster lets out a loud groan and punches himself as hard as he can in the face nearly knocking him to the ground. He digs his fingers into his chest and rips away chucks of flesh, his blood splatters against the cold black concrete. He shrieks as a demonic face appears in the bloody mess of blood and guts that was once his abdomen. Tears stream down his ghostly face, and the demon apparition screams loudly in anger and torment.
"Sevin stop this you're scaring me"
"I DON'T KNOW WHO THAT IS", the loud demonic face screams back at Indica.
"yes you do, you're the most stubborn boy I know.."
"YOU DON'T KNOW ME.. YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ME"
"no, no Sevin... you don't know anything about yourself... anymore"
"STOP THESE HEADGAMES YOU FUCKING WHORE!!!"
And silence rips through the abonded city, broken tenements with busted out windows looking like blank dead faces with wide gaping mouths forever recoiling in horror as their fate was served to them.
_________________ 
Last edited by Jimbean on Wed May 24, 2006 11:28 am, edited 8 times in total.
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