(on_thecouch) "I'm conducting a post-mortom on our love"
"Maybe it's heart stopped."
scent
Simon Lehane was dead.
His heart was stopped.
She'd been beautiful
Laughter like piano notes
The autopsy was immediate
Never waited for you to be dead first
Nothing more than and object
Dismantle at will
Freeze it still
Drugs will stop the twitching
Weren't supposed to be alive.
Just function
Red lasers to figure things out
Why the heart beat
Why there was a heart
When they were done
It was like he had never existed.
Except for the buried body
That was being wheeled down the hall
Laying flat out on a gurney
Strapped down tight
Like a butterfly to a board
Blood still warm and wet
Across his throat
On the white sheets.
Choking on the tube that kept him breathing
Fingers flexing and clawing at the sheets.
Choices were a lie
Like Simon was a lie
He had made a choice
Two in fact
To kill or to die
To be dismantled or to die
Both had been taken away
~~~~~~~~~~
Alec woke gagging and barely made it outside before loosing everything he'd had for dinner. He was tangled into an awkward pile of limbs on the sparsely grassed ground. For a while all he could do was gasp and choke on the phantom feelings. His nose was pressed into the partially crushed weeds to get rid of the memory-scent of blood, fear and the waking nightmares of what he was. What he'd once been.
And what had been taken from him.
Muse: Alec McDowell/X5-494
Fandom: Dark Angel
Word count: 246
scent
Simon Lehane was dead.
His heart was stopped.
She'd been beautiful
Laughter like piano notes
The autopsy was immediate
Never waited for you to be dead first
Nothing more than and object
Dismantle at will
Freeze it still
Drugs will stop the twitching
Weren't supposed to be alive.
Just function
Red lasers to figure things out
Why the heart beat
Why there was a heart
When they were done
It was like he had never existed.
Except for the buried body
That was being wheeled down the hall
Laying flat out on a gurney
Strapped down tight
Like a butterfly to a board
Blood still warm and wet
Across his throat
On the white sheets.
Choking on the tube that kept him breathing
Fingers flexing and clawing at the sheets.
Choices were a lie
Like Simon was a lie
He had made a choice
Two in fact
To kill or to die
To be dismantled or to die
Both had been taken away
~~~~~~~~~~
Alec woke gagging and barely made it outside before loosing everything he'd had for dinner. He was tangled into an awkward pile of limbs on the sparsely grassed ground. For a while all he could do was gasp and choke on the phantom feelings. His nose was pressed into the partially crushed weeds to get rid of the memory-scent of blood, fear and the waking nightmares of what he was. What he'd once been.
And what had been taken from him.
Muse: Alec McDowell/X5-494
Fandom: Dark Angel
Word count: 246