Forever cognisant that we sacrifice pieces of ourselves every moment, in an attempt to delude the mind into
Life is simply one pull of the puppet strings after another.
The cycle goes on and on. One sacrifice after the next, until we are all but hollow. Inside each being, a sullen corpse, sunken cheeks, blood-shot slits for eyes, decay. On the outside we mask the pain, we mask the ugly reality and many are fortunate enough that they can block it out, push it aside, and repress its existence altogether.
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My black & white, fluffy cat is upstairs, just above my room with a stuffed dog in her mouth. She carries it off of my mother's bed & drops it in the kitchen or the basment. She starts to meow, howling, mew-mew-mew-mew, one would think she was dying or in heat if one did not know any better. Three times in the past two hours she has mustered up all of her six-pound-strength and carried out the dog. She is looking for my mother. She does not realize that my mother is gone. Eight more days my mother is gone and my precious cat, my poor, beautiful, pitiful, oblivious cat, she misses Mommy and now it is making me cry.
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There is only myself now, surrounded by white walls and the low humming of electricity. The boy who was inside of me last nite is long gone. I am alone in a cradle of alcohol induced fogginess.