(Untitled)

[immmasellout]

Cells are rarely conducive to optimistic self-reflection. No, they tend to promote rather the opposite. And the music he was playing didn't help.

Do I stress you out

Comments

[vicarious_v]

The music ontinued, going from one screechy track to the next, and one couldn't help but wonder if it was somehow cathartic.

how 'bout getting off of these antibiotics
how 'bout stopping eating when I'm full up
how 'bout them transparent dangling carrots
how 'bout that ever elusive kudo

thank you India
thank you terror
thank you disillusionment
thank you frailty
thank you consequence
thank you thank you silence ...

From V, though, there was no sound, and he did not return to the cell in which he'd placed her.

[immmasellout]

She listened until it grew too irritating, and then shouted at the window some more, both hoping to draw attention and drown out the vitriol. How could he like this music? It wasn't worth writing in the first place, let alone preserving.

"Hey! Anyone, anyone out there!"

And it just kept playing.

I sang Alleluia in the choir
I confessed my darkest deeds to an envious man
My brothers they never went blind for what they did
But I may as well have
In the name of the Father, the Skeptic and the Son
I had one more stupid question

[vicarious_v]

Still, there was no-one anywhere. No-one could hear the music or her shouting. And still it continued, one track after the next of driving hormonal venom.

burn the books they've got too many names and psychoses
all this incriminating evidence would surely haunt me
if someone broke into my house
suits in the living room
do you realize guys i was born in 1974
we've got someone here to explain your publishing
we know how much you love to be in front of audiences
hopeful you are
schoolbound you are
naive you are
driven you are ...

[immmasellout]

She pounded on the door, frustrated. Kicked the slot at the bottom.

"Look, I don't care if you like this banned shite, V -for-whoever, but stop forcing me to listen to it!"