my organ windpipes have sung their last hymn
911 state your emergency-
shut up and listen to me! im about to die!
what is your name?
not important if I'm dead.
how many are there?
what?
how many men are there trying to harm you?
one. only one.
what does he look like?
blonde hair, about my height. thats all i can describe to you.
ok where do you live?
Utica.
is there anyone else there with you that this man can harm?
no. just me.
alright. just give me a second to-
to what? get a professional here?
well yes sir theyre on their way.
what a pathetic excuse of help. professionals cannot save anyone.
sir it is our job to help those in need and that is what we are trained to-
shut up! professionals only help a problem occure less frequently. theyre of no help during the crisis!
sir I can assure you we will try-
you cant stop him. I might be able to if I acted now, but Im not sure if I want to risk it.
don't try anything without professional help there to back you up sir. does he have a weapon?
yes.
what is it?
a knife, a screw, a razorblade, he has many. i have none.
alright stay calm where is he now?
staring at me.
he watching you call the police?
he doesnt seem to care.
has he hurt you yet?
yes many times. he seems to rather enjoy it. and he thrives off my fear, that's why he's letting me call, so he can see me frightened even more.
are you at your house? where in your house?
yes I'm in my basement.
alright can you run away?
no hes blocking the door.
alright just wait and stay calm...stay...calm...the police aren't there yet?
no.
ok...that's alright....they'll be there...we're professionals...
you're a pathetic excuse is what you are. i blame you for my death.
no...sir...if you stay calm....
i am calm....and I'm the one with the knife to my arms sitting alone in my basement in Sterling Heights about to kill myself and this has been a test if there was any order left in this world. a cry out to tell someone goodbye. as i have never cared for anyone enough to have them care if i called them now.
sir....no....don't....wait....
goodbye
*click*
sir? sir???...are you still there???
another sweetheart with a grain-grown shaft emerging from in between their lips and tongue. to pull out a scab is to yank the roots through your throat. to pull out the shard and die or leave it in and die? oh so many choices my dear.
what is it to come home unchanged? what is it to merely play another song with the same tune? these are the questions i still demand.
Im trying my hardest to forget. but how can I when i brand my memories into myself? what is the difference between a man lying on the ground not breathing with a smile on his face and a noose on his neck or a man taking pill after pill with a choking gag on each one and an afterthought of "why do i care to cease from caring"? answer me that oh bleeding black crow
we live in this burning cornfield with nothing but oil to douse ourselves in to cleanse our blistered faces. let me smile.
is this yet another? oh no surely not. he has surely shot himself by now. ha. ha. fools. I'm back
writing your name next to mine and leaning close to you....this would be romantic if i wasnt using your own blood to inscribe a heart around our newly written names on your cold lifeless forehead.
i cannot escape this single episode. it plays every night at the same time. i almost fear to close my eyes knowing i will never only see the credits. but the credit are still the scariest part. seeing all of the names. all of your names. all of them and knowing those images were real. i cant escape it. i wont let myself. all of the violence. all of the pain. all of it from you. with each dream i see myself in more pain and the dead bodies join mine. let me hold you for just one more moment before the killer comes into the plot. and every time the killer is me.
let me wake up again and again but still my alarm clock is just another gunshot
shut up and listen to me! im about to die!
what is your name?
not important if I'm dead.
how many are there?
what?
how many men are there trying to harm you?
one. only one.
what does he look like?
blonde hair, about my height. thats all i can describe to you.
ok where do you live?
Utica.
is there anyone else there with you that this man can harm?
no. just me.
alright. just give me a second to-
to what? get a professional here?
well yes sir theyre on their way.
what a pathetic excuse of help. professionals cannot save anyone.
sir it is our job to help those in need and that is what we are trained to-
shut up! professionals only help a problem occure less frequently. theyre of no help during the crisis!
sir I can assure you we will try-
you cant stop him. I might be able to if I acted now, but Im not sure if I want to risk it.
don't try anything without professional help there to back you up sir. does he have a weapon?
yes.
what is it?
a knife, a screw, a razorblade, he has many. i have none.
alright stay calm where is he now?
staring at me.
he watching you call the police?
he doesnt seem to care.
has he hurt you yet?
yes many times. he seems to rather enjoy it. and he thrives off my fear, that's why he's letting me call, so he can see me frightened even more.
are you at your house? where in your house?
yes I'm in my basement.
alright can you run away?
no hes blocking the door.
alright just wait and stay calm...stay...calm...the police aren't there yet?
no.
ok...that's alright....they'll be there...we're professionals...
you're a pathetic excuse is what you are. i blame you for my death.
no...sir...if you stay calm....
i am calm....and I'm the one with the knife to my arms sitting alone in my basement in Sterling Heights about to kill myself and this has been a test if there was any order left in this world. a cry out to tell someone goodbye. as i have never cared for anyone enough to have them care if i called them now.
sir....no....don't....wait....
goodbye
*click*
sir? sir???...are you still there???
another sweetheart with a grain-grown shaft emerging from in between their lips and tongue. to pull out a scab is to yank the roots through your throat. to pull out the shard and die or leave it in and die? oh so many choices my dear.
what is it to come home unchanged? what is it to merely play another song with the same tune? these are the questions i still demand.
Im trying my hardest to forget. but how can I when i brand my memories into myself? what is the difference between a man lying on the ground not breathing with a smile on his face and a noose on his neck or a man taking pill after pill with a choking gag on each one and an afterthought of "why do i care to cease from caring"? answer me that oh bleeding black crow
we live in this burning cornfield with nothing but oil to douse ourselves in to cleanse our blistered faces. let me smile.
is this yet another? oh no surely not. he has surely shot himself by now. ha. ha. fools. I'm back
writing your name next to mine and leaning close to you....this would be romantic if i wasnt using your own blood to inscribe a heart around our newly written names on your cold lifeless forehead.
i cannot escape this single episode. it plays every night at the same time. i almost fear to close my eyes knowing i will never only see the credits. but the credit are still the scariest part. seeing all of the names. all of your names. all of them and knowing those images were real. i cant escape it. i wont let myself. all of the violence. all of the pain. all of it from you. with each dream i see myself in more pain and the dead bodies join mine. let me hold you for just one more moment before the killer comes into the plot. and every time the killer is me.
let me wake up again and again but still my alarm clock is just another gunshot