Dissociated
The only thing was, he couldn't stop thinking, of the way my rotting body, would soon start to stinking. And where would he bury it, and what would he do? And it's a good thing he'd changed his mind, and hadn't killed two. If you keep up that gaping, he might plan anew. If you keep up that staring, he'll end up with three, because one would be you.
And two would be me.
And then where would me and him be? Except maybe, like you, hanging from a tree.
“Ahahaha,” and a “Hehehe!” Wouldn't that be a funny sight to see? “Not one or two, but yes, all three! All three of me, hanging from one tree! Oh, what a funny sight that would be.” He laughs for a bit, and you scream for while, I keep silent, and he flashes a smile.
But he doesn't distract, from his current predicament. Because oh no, he is much too diligent. With what he does, and what he doesn't. And what he is, and what he wasn't.
So his lips curl up, and the axe hurls down. And since I'm hanging from a tree, his quirky smile looks like frown.
“I am you! And you are me! And she is him. And we are three. I'm holding the axe, and I'm hanging from the tree! A genuine multitasker, I be!” He laughs and laughs. I disagree. I am not him and he is not me.
And its head flies, as the axe hits marble. Oh what a sight, oh so horrible. But all I can do is hang and marvel, as her brain hits the floor and rolls like marble.
“We're all just the same: you, her, and me! Because we've all got two eyes and we've all got two knees. And we've all got some tears, and the ability to bleed! Life's but a game, a game of greed. Of weak little people, deciding which hippos to feed!”
Down the street, and lands at my feet. Ehem. Excuse me, I meant my head. If it'd landed at my feet, it'd mean that I'd be dead.
“I am not you! You could never be me! I'm not sick or deranged! I don't make people bleed!”
He pays me no mind, not like he pays the girls'. Stroking her hair, hand in red curls.
“Eheheheheehee! Isn't this fun?” But I've already begun to wish he was done. Done with that girl and her pretty read curls, so he can't touch her face, let his anger unfurl. On her, instead of me.
I want to hold her.
“Let her be!” My voice is hoarse, and crackle-y.
“But then where would either of us be?
So he's finishing up, his job very meticulous. He's wiping up blood, and it's a bit ridiculous-the way that he picks her head gently off of the floor, as if he could do it harm anymore.
My eyes tear up then. The first in a while, he flashes me a grin; Crocodile Smile.
“Oh what a pity,” He says, and his lips curl into a smile or frown. “Oh what a pity,” He says, glances down.
“These were my favorite slacks. Imagine that. Karma can be such a dank little rat.”
Then he bags it all up, after slicing the rest. Gets out some papers, and sits down at a desk. A phone suddenly rings, and I answer it swiftly, listen a minute, and hang up too quickly. Then I frown at the man, hanging from the tree. I feel my face pale; my stomach go sickly. I know that this sort of man is much too tricky.
“I apologize sir, did you know this fair lady?” His eyes are leaking, but face all too shady.
I glance at the body. I look up at the rain. I stare at my hands. I glance at the stain.
On my slacks.
I walk up to him thinking truly a pity.
“Feeling down and feeling grity?”
But there's a fist in my groin, at the flip of a coin. Cause he's hanging upside-down and what I'd been staring at wasn't a frown. Then suddenly he's up, and I'm on the floor. And he's yelling at me to beg, just like I'd told the whore.
I'm staring down at him; a clump on the ground. There's more blood on his slacks, and there isn't a sound. Then I'm removing his head and bagging it up. Then I sliced up the body, and started to throw up.
I'm smiling through the taste. And laughing at the feeling. My body hurts, and my mind is reeling: What a feeling!
And suddenly it's the two of them. One him, two you, and three me. And I'm screaming at the top of my lungs and my heart's beginning to bleed.
“We're all just the same: you, her, and me! Because we've all got two eyes and we've all got two knees. And we've all got some tears, and the ability to bleed! Life's but a game, a game of greed. Of weak little people, deciding which hippos to feed!”
And suddenly, it all clicks in my head. We were all but one man. One man who's now dead.
And two would be me.
And then where would me and him be? Except maybe, like you, hanging from a tree.
“Ahahaha,” and a “Hehehe!” Wouldn't that be a funny sight to see? “Not one or two, but yes, all three! All three of me, hanging from one tree! Oh, what a funny sight that would be.” He laughs for a bit, and you scream for while, I keep silent, and he flashes a smile.
But he doesn't distract, from his current predicament. Because oh no, he is much too diligent. With what he does, and what he doesn't. And what he is, and what he wasn't.
So his lips curl up, and the axe hurls down. And since I'm hanging from a tree, his quirky smile looks like frown.
“I am you! And you are me! And she is him. And we are three. I'm holding the axe, and I'm hanging from the tree! A genuine multitasker, I be!” He laughs and laughs. I disagree. I am not him and he is not me.
And its head flies, as the axe hits marble. Oh what a sight, oh so horrible. But all I can do is hang and marvel, as her brain hits the floor and rolls like marble.
“We're all just the same: you, her, and me! Because we've all got two eyes and we've all got two knees. And we've all got some tears, and the ability to bleed! Life's but a game, a game of greed. Of weak little people, deciding which hippos to feed!”
Down the street, and lands at my feet. Ehem. Excuse me, I meant my head. If it'd landed at my feet, it'd mean that I'd be dead.
“I am not you! You could never be me! I'm not sick or deranged! I don't make people bleed!”
He pays me no mind, not like he pays the girls'. Stroking her hair, hand in red curls.
“Eheheheheehee! Isn't this fun?” But I've already begun to wish he was done. Done with that girl and her pretty read curls, so he can't touch her face, let his anger unfurl. On her, instead of me.
I want to hold her.
“Let her be!” My voice is hoarse, and crackle-y.
“But then where would either of us be?
So he's finishing up, his job very meticulous. He's wiping up blood, and it's a bit ridiculous-the way that he picks her head gently off of the floor, as if he could do it harm anymore.
My eyes tear up then. The first in a while, he flashes me a grin; Crocodile Smile.
“Oh what a pity,” He says, and his lips curl into a smile or frown. “Oh what a pity,” He says, glances down.
“These were my favorite slacks. Imagine that. Karma can be such a dank little rat.”
Then he bags it all up, after slicing the rest. Gets out some papers, and sits down at a desk. A phone suddenly rings, and I answer it swiftly, listen a minute, and hang up too quickly. Then I frown at the man, hanging from the tree. I feel my face pale; my stomach go sickly. I know that this sort of man is much too tricky.
“I apologize sir, did you know this fair lady?” His eyes are leaking, but face all too shady.
I glance at the body. I look up at the rain. I stare at my hands. I glance at the stain.
On my slacks.
I walk up to him thinking truly a pity.
“Feeling down and feeling grity?”
But there's a fist in my groin, at the flip of a coin. Cause he's hanging upside-down and what I'd been staring at wasn't a frown. Then suddenly he's up, and I'm on the floor. And he's yelling at me to beg, just like I'd told the whore.
I'm staring down at him; a clump on the ground. There's more blood on his slacks, and there isn't a sound. Then I'm removing his head and bagging it up. Then I sliced up the body, and started to throw up.
I'm smiling through the taste. And laughing at the feeling. My body hurts, and my mind is reeling: What a feeling!
And suddenly it's the two of them. One him, two you, and three me. And I'm screaming at the top of my lungs and my heart's beginning to bleed.
“We're all just the same: you, her, and me! Because we've all got two eyes and we've all got two knees. And we've all got some tears, and the ability to bleed! Life's but a game, a game of greed. Of weak little people, deciding which hippos to feed!”
And suddenly, it all clicks in my head. We were all but one man. One man who's now dead.