No one will know
no one will care
because all I left behind was my dead strands of hair
May 22, 2011
May 22, 2011 at 7:43 AM UTC
Wise and wistful Njal perched pleasantly in the heart of Iceland
Vengeance victory and voluptuous vial veined through Flosi Njal as innocent as an infant
His demeanor held neither mediocrity nor morals but rather an emotion enthralled ego
Cooled cinders clog Flosi's heart to a stone To unfurl the expression in an utmost barbaric action
He recollects ways to reclaim rotten ridden revenge pondering upon which way will win
In one breath of fiery hell Flosi embarked his plan a sheepish grin gambled graciously on his hard face
The house engulfed in silk flames of scarlet the blood curdling cries of children never ceased
Onyx hazes of smoke of smoke danced on the top of the roof taunting the flames to devour more
Flosi's eyes excitedly enlightened in excitement his perilous plan appeared promising
He laughed lively at the feat the hysterical hollers of children was suddnely muted
Several silent minutes passed spirits of ashes resurrected from the charred house
The air was stale sparse dull life clinged to hold its existence
Bleached black bones held close to each other in a cluster combusted cloth clothed the cluster
Two tiny tinged skeletons lay in heavy heaps almost as if they were holding hands
But no longer did the embrace last no longer did the home host habitability
This sadistic outcome shed no tears for Flosi he enjoyed the revolting wrath of revenge ever so
He shadowed over the remains of bones and timber boastfully bubbling blissfully in excitement
kicking the bones like dry dirt Flosi continued to walk around the ash ridden land
His leather boots crisping in the hot coals his callused hands thrusting in the air expressing victory
He beaconed a shrill of success tears trembling down his face
Flosi has won revenge has ridden him once more
May 22, 2011
May 22, 2011 at 7:37 AM UTC
Dye my hair black and drench my lips in venom red.
Snag a ticket at the bus station in town and watch the country fade away in a blur
Slither off the bus with clasped fingers around one suitcase with both hands reaching towards the gray skies, trying to tickle the glowing Citgo sign
My oxfords slapping the cobblestone as I run down the alley, blades of hair slapping my face with each stride.
I scream only once while running, I scream for freedom
I scream for Boston
May 22, 2011
May 22, 2011 at 7:19 AM UTC