bloodlust
In this lousy Godless world, living in the blood that runs through the streets, spilled at the hands of violence and corruption. Nothing is bad and nothing is good.
Angels are demons and demons are angels. They are all one the same.
They are the children of Lucifer who kill to live, who sin as a far cry of attention for the Father who abandoned them so long ago, that one ray of hope from the only one who loved them and promised to love them.
They don't know if such love exists anymore, or if it ever existed.
But they try and try and try, and cry and cry and cry.
They are like leaves in the wind, longing to be swept away, far away from this life, but crumpling to dust before they reach the light at the end of the tunnel, the end of the tunnel that plunges to the depths of Hell.
It rains every day and every night, soaking the sinners in a blanket of cold and damp that eats away into madness for warmth.
The touch of an angel caresses at his closed eyelid, and he opens it to see the face that triggers emotion in the ghost of a soul he forgot he had.
She is soft and tender and warm, her perfume overwhelming him as her lips kiss him, a silent promise of love that neither dare to speak out loud.
He smiles back at her, his eyes disguised with the loving stare of a man who would give anything for her.
He loves her, he really does, but that's nothing to stop the hate that sears through his veins like red hot iron. For too long he'd been fed venomous words, infesting his mind and turning him from the kind human being he used to be into this cold-blooded killer.
His soft gentle eyes flicker for one last brief moment before they turn to stone.
He hides behind the neon signs up on the rooftop as he watches her run carefreely out of her house, a solemn gaze lingering behind as he tightens his hand around his gun and silencer.
She smiles at a sky today too beautiful to last, just like her.
He lowers his head and she goes back inside. He turns away, waiting for the moment she appears again to finish the job. He cocks the pistol, the bitter taste of lead from the bullet he would drive into her skull filling his mouth.
He can hate himself later.
Her hand quivers as she reaches for the bean sprouts, her eyes occasionally glance up at the window over her mother’s shoulder, a wistful stare that embarks the longing in her heart to be free, yearning to be free, at any cost. At any price.
She puts on her façade of a coy smile and a lively response to a remark at her, but he knows she is frightened and scared, he can see it from the distance as clear as day and he wants to hold her, to embrace her and tell her everything will be alright. He wants to tell her that he loves her.
But she doesn’t want that. She wants silence, she wants peace, she wants to be free, and he is the only one who can give that to her.
Not love, not warmth, but freedom.
She waits and glances up again upon seeing his figure jump under the darkness of the trees, a gleam of silver telling her to hold her breath, and reassuring her that he would protect her.
She smiles and looks down, a smile that meant a million and one things.
To thank him, to forgive him, and to love him in ways she will never get to tell him.
A whisper of a gunshot shatters the glass with a silvery echo and breaks apart the fortress of her prison. It pierces straight through her heart, the fragile organ keeping her alive and beating for far too long, that she wants so desperately to stop.
And it does.
Everything stops.
The pain, the tears, the blue blood that pumps through her.
She doesn’t even scream, a faint smile on her rosy lips as their eyes connect for one last time before she dies, the bullet ending her life but releasing her soul, the beauty of it all bringing tears to his eyes.
Thank you, it tells him. Thank you for setting me free.
It's over, there are only a few hours left before she can leave this day behind.
The blood on her small delicate hands isn’t that of murderers or criminals. It is of the man she loved, who had unlocked her heart with a key she never thought she would ever find in this lifetime.
He tells her he loves her. He tells her and she knows in that instant it's the end.
Her eyes blink once at the intimate journal she finds left behind in the crossfire, confessing emotions and feelings she never knew could be expressed by a man.
She is confused; all her life anger was the only emotion she knew. Love is foreign to her, something that infected her like a virus until she doesn’t know what was what, who she is and why she is here.
Colours flare in this dead empty room, dazzling her with a new kind of brightness that pulls her away from the shades of black, grey and blue she is so used to. Her gaze scans over the words on the pages, and she envisions the splatter of red from that fateful night.
She says nothing when she runs the knife into his chest, holding it in the same hand that once brushed through his lovely hair. He gasps and coughs and she can feel his warm blood flowing onto her body, a flash of hurt and betrayal in his brown pools as they stare into her, and then he's gone.
Gone like a candle in the wind.
She hadn’t meant to kill him, not in the way she did, at least. Inside, she tells herself again and again that he deserves a quick death, swiftly without pain, but her bloodlust overtakes her and she remembers twisting the blade mercilessly, like she did with others before him.
They don’t feel a thing unless she wants them to.
Still… she doesn’t cry. She hates crying, tears always make her eyes sting instead of soothe them.
But she can still see his face, hear his voice, feel his touch, relive his final moments when she almost let go because of some fleeting sensation she tells herself isn’t love.
It isn’t love, it isn’t love, she repeats day by day.
It isn’t love, it isn’t guilt, it isn’t sadness, it isn’t longing, it isn’t regret.
It is her job.
She's sick of the bloodshed around her, her young naive mind screaming for everything to stop so the putrid smell of dead bodies would lift away for her to breathe.
He knows, he knows as well the consequences of this love game. They are two sides of the same coin, destined to never look at the same horizon.
The only way to be together is in their graves.
All kinds of death is about to happen right in front of them but it’s still hard for him to take his eyes off her. She cries and sheds a single tear of purity and lets go of his hand.
The rain comes down, washing away her tears like there was nothing there at all, bringing her expression of grief and heartbreak back to nonchalance and apathy.
She turns away, he doesn’t.
She lets him watch as she walks back to her side of the war, knowing that her memories will stay and haunt her for many more years before she can find the courage to forget him. He says nothing and doesn’t hold her back, still remembering the taste of her lips when she kissed him for the very last time.
He retreats, ending the moment in time they are so mercifully spared, a glint of happiness that falls like a snowflake out of the sky onto a blazing fire, lost forever.
She will always love him, he will always love her.
Always, and never.
Love was never meant to be real in a world like this.
Such a thing as the heart was made to pump blood and nothing more, not feel this thing he never understood until now.
They had been running for way too long, towards a place they can’t even see yet, but they keep running even as the air around them evaporates and it becomes hard to breathe.
She lights two cigarettes in her mouth and hands him one, he can taste her lipstick on it and all the sudden his heart is pounding so loud he can’t hear anything else.
He wants to reach over and touch her, taste her sweat one more time, even though he knows it will be the death of them.
He loves her ruby lips and her golden hair, and she loves his assuring smile and his hazel eyes, but they know it is all a mask under a mask of who they both really are.
It doesn’t matter.
They broke a truce and a war is about to begin.
Blood for blood by the gallons, the old days and the all-or-nothing days, thousands of lives to be dragged to hell because of their selfishness.
But to them, hell is waking up every day to this mess that's supposed to make them glad to be alive.
There is nothing to live for and nothing to die for.
It takes a kindness worth killing over to open their eyes to the truth, and they aren’t going to give up without a fight.
They are fools in love, too foolish for this damned chaotic world.
This is the last call. They can never look back from where they stand, people are after them. After their blood that would trade for good money somebody desperately needs.
She promises him she would come. She promises that she would stake her life to see him again. She promises she would die for him, and he believes her.
Her ruby lips smile when she sees him, but in a flash, it's all she'll ever see again.
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So, I posted a fanfic of my video because Youtube said the description was too long. XD It's inspired by Sin City, I hope you enjoyed it. =]
Here's the main video: http://www.youtube.c...h?v=PU-gkpu1rrY