Veins

Title: Veins
Author: Timelessness
Summary: I feel the poison leaking through my veins .
Rating: R , Necrophilia
Pairing(s): I don\'t want to spoil my crappy story , but it will be M/M
Feedback: Please , please , please R&R ?
Characters: A single character
Betas: Karma , thank you so much for beta reading my crappy work !!! :p
Author’s notes:
1.- I\'m wasted .
2.- English isn\'t my native lenguage .
3.- Hope you like it . R&R please .
Disclaimer: I\'m not making any money out of this . AFF has just established the new policy of the disclaimers and I\'m not enjoying having to write one for each one of my stories , I\'m too lazy ...


SweetestKisses : Thank you for reading my story , for reviewing it ( thank you so much ! , i realy appreciate it ; nobody seems to review my stuff :( ... ) , and thak you for pointing out the mistakes :p

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I can feel it leaking through my veins. Yes, this timelessness, this irresolute lack of hope and I smile to myself.

The wind caresses my face and stings my eyes. Such a perfect sight…. From the darkness are we born. The smoke of my cigarette makes me feel like I’m still alive. And my smile becomes wider.

Such nonsense. My mind is blurred from all the turmoil building inside my soul, if it is possible for me to still possess one. The silence makes me numb and I start to doze off. The very air that I breathe suffocates me and I’m delighted.

I dwell in this darkness. It makes me feel like my veins aren’t tangled anymore; that I can get rid of these knots that make me no more than a vulgar puppet.

And then that all too familiar laugh; that laugh that makes me crumble. My smile is playing tricks on me.

I can feel every one of the scars I have on my body come to life again. And it just makes it all that much more funnier.

Lighting another cigarette, I wonder: Where did it begin?

I start humming to myself.

Never think it can’t get worse. I seem to be happy looking at the ceiling, but all the shapes to see there have been found.

I smile just out of boredom.

I can’t deal with this deicide, this unpredictable routine. A sigh escapes my lips.

The night sits on the windowsill.

But now the night doesn’t talk to me anymore. I’m fed up with this. I stand up and head to the door, grabbing a knife on my way out and shoving it inside my coat. In a few seconds I’m standing outside. The fresh air fills my lungs with dust-filled dreams. Maybe no more than a one-way ride to inner peace.

Once more, I’m wandering on the streets. The moon still smiling on top of my head.

You can be surrounded with stars that pretend to hide your shame, but you can’t fool me. You’re a mourning mother and your grief gives me no more than pleasure. Be a good boy. Kiss your mother goodnight, and why wouldn’t I? You bathe me in light and the dark is shining.

Lighting another cigarette, I realize my wandering has brought me to the cemetery gates. No surprise. Then, it is your wish.

The rain starts pouring heavily over me. It gives me a warm feeling.

With patience, I start reading the tombstones. I love how each one of them is a piece of memory that doesn’t fit anywhere. Like pictures; why keep a picture? A sad reminder of everything done, everything that could have been?

Glad they’re all dead now. Dead and put aside. No epitaph to remind me of those days. No pretty words for a made-up farewell.

Those wings are long gone. Ripped off. The smiles comes back to haunt me.

The trees wave their branches at the howl of the wind. They build up a beautiful cacophony of forgotten voices. Whispers hard to pay attention to.

There you are, the only one left.

That mausoleum stares at me. Be glad.

I sit upon the tombstone as I whisper inaudible words.

The cold worms and me will build a new life. The moon’s still there, questioning me. Well, I can’t give any more explanations. I have a hard time removing the tiles over the grave, but I achieve it anyway. The coffin reveals itself, reflecting the light of the mother. Opening the forgotten vault, a breathtaking sight comes to my eyes. I’ve found you now. Arms crossed on your chest; the rosary that has been put between your hands is an insult to my eyes. It appears vile, something that you never were.

The worms have been mean to your face. I caress your face with care; I don’t want to disturb the building life within your skin. Tracing down your jaw line I can still see the bruises on your neck. That smile shows up again.

Closing my eyes for a brief moment, all the respect I owe you warms my instincts. Brightens my tedious night.

Taking out the knife I had kept in my pocket, I slowly take what’s left of your clothes.

Licking the razor, I taste its sharpness.

With courteous movements, the sharp blade makes its way through your pale skin. Your face can be spared; there’s nothing left of it anyway. Thick slices of flesh are my joy.

Engulfing you I buy my freedom. Eating all of the remains is the only thing that will buy my emancipation. So sweet.

For in me lies now your soul and the silvery melody of all the fallen leaves now your cradle.

Now you lie within this body and run through these veins.

Your fair bones will give more that a precious touch to my rooms.

Now you can be kissed goodnight. For farewell was long gone.