Rejected

Rejected
By: George Gonzalez
I wiped a cockroach off my leg as I knelt below the window, listening to her moans and screams of joy. Tears bore their familiar paths along my face as I struggled with my belt, praying they wouldn’t hear me.

I bit back a scream while she pleaded for him to go faster, to bury himself in her till she bled, to pound her brains out. I heard the same before, in another age, another era.
I fumbled with my zipper, the darkness in cloaking me in its giant arms, choking me till my breaths burned as they escaped the prison cell which was my throat.

A car rolled down the street and my heart jumped a mile. My pants now around my ankles, my poor refused penis pointing with accusation in the direction of the atrocity I forced myself to witness, I waddled into some nearby bushes, leaving the screams behind.

I squatted, my bare ass met with a cold brick wall and ankles attacked by a barrage of pissed off ants, and waited for the headlights to disappear.

I waddled back below the window, my lip bleeding from the force of my bites, and began masturbating furiously. Images swept over me like a stampede, each leaving its footprints of insurmountable pain. Her face as she told me she loved me in her black dress with no underwear underneath stepped on my ribs breaking them on impact…Her voice telling me I’m a god, a sex Zeus with passion like no one else landed on my knee, breaking it and never allowing me the comfort of walking again…Her face burning in the candlelight of our first date as I leaned over for my last first kiss trampled my left arm into a substance less pulp…Her lips moving gently, trotting in mine filled territory explaining to me how the magic was gone and our relationship no more than a cruise set towards disaster falling onto my stomach like a boulder collapsing my lungs…The gavel striking down upon my heart and announcing my death and destruction with a 10,000 yard restraining order piercing my brain like a silver bullet.

I couldn’t take it anymore, this fucking slideshow from hell needed to end. My left hand still stroking my throbbing cock in a fury I reached into my pocket with my right hand.

I fumbled for at least a minute struggling to discern from my assortment of tools, merciless pleasure and pain binding me in its shackles.

At last I found it and, trembling with anticipation, revealed a small razor gleaming though there was no light around for it to reflect. It alone could bring me back from my darkness.

Walking into her house 2 years later, flowers in hand and a poem 20 pages long burning a hole in my pocket and finding her bent over the couch we had bought together, yelling and screaming as a extremely well endowed, muscular tan beauty pushed himself into her, his teeth gritted in pleasure and fierce animal pride.

I raised the razor eager to cut the slideshow right there and brought it down onto my wrist. Still jerking I swiped it across creating a red line which opened into a gaping mouth spilling out blood all over my member.

The pain exploded and fused with my growing pleasure just as the blood coated my cock and hand and I pumped using the caking syrup as a lubricant.

The slideshow ended; all memories were forgotten completely in fact.

With blissful ignorance came blissful darkness as my consciousness was swept clean.


Another hard day at the firm, the evidence was steadily piling against my client and it seemed a conviction of one count of rape and two counts of murder was inevitable.

I climbed the steps leading to the door of my house, reaching into my pocket to find the keys but stopping when I noticed the blood pouring out of my right hand’s wrist.

I raised it up to my eyes and gazed in confusion. Probably sliced myself on that damn letter opener again I thought and turned the doorknob without another thought of my wrist or keys.

It opened easily and I proceeded inside, the sound of immense pleasure in the form of screams and moans hit me like a hammer.

A porno, I thought immediately not entertaining the thought of infidelity for a second, poor thing must be missing me like crazy. Can’t work late any more for her sake, never again.

I crossed the hallway and headed for the bedroom, ready to surprise her and jump into bed. Ready for her warm embrace, her smooth thighs, her firm breasts hard and perky just for me, her beautiful lips on mine and moving to explore my entire body.

I opened the door.

There she was, as beautiful as ever, her hair flying in a whirlwind around her perfect face as she jumped up and down, keeping with the painful throbbing in my heart. Below her lay a man, staring up at her and panting in time with her jumping, grunting in perfect harmony with her moans. His hands were cupped around her ass and his toes were curling with the extent of his pleasure. The sheets were tossed to one side and her red lacey underwear lay amongst them.

My heart stopped and breath ceased, my knees wobbled threatening to give out completely. My fingers curled to make a fist in which I dug my nails into my palm till they were bleeding while opening the gash on my wrist. My stomach knotted itself into a little ball and convulsions of anger and sadness hit me over and over again.

They still hadn’t realized I was even in the room, their passion so great, their pleasure so uninterruptible. She screamed that he was the best she had ever had, he yelled back announcing that the Grade-A fucking extravaganza had but begun.

Suddenly I didn’t want them to see me; I didn’t want them to realize that I was witnessing their demented acts of bliss. I turned to leave and reached my hand into my pocket, searching for my car keys.

They instead came across something smooth and cold. I pulled it out to find myself holding a long switchblade, the light gleaming and skating across it to park itself at its tip where it shined bright and beautiful.

The room reflected on its surface and I was once again met with the image of the two of them fucking like there was nothing else in life to live for.

Taunting me that gleam sitting on the edge of my knife asked me what I was going to do about it. Would I let them have their fun and go back to a hotel room as I had planned only to cry and pity my very existence, or would I bring down this gavel I held and execute justice?

At that I turned resolute that at this point it was my job, nay my duty to stand up and show this cheating bitch who’s boss.

Staring at them with a cocked grin on my face and malice in my heart I whispered, “Hello Nancy.”

She turned to look at me and her jumping ceased. She screamed, “What the fuck?!” as he screamed, “Who the hell is that?!” and both made a mad dash for the sheets.

“Virgil what in god’s name are you doing here?” she asked, embarrassment and surprise slowly being overcome with anger.

I merely stared at them both, the pain in my heart constricting my vocal cords and rendering me mute.

“Who the fuck is this guy April?” the guy asked in surprised incredulity.

“He lives in the fucking apartment upstairs my asshole husband rents out for extra hooker money,” she spat in disgust.

In my delusional rage I hadn’t heard a word they had exchanged.

“How the fuck could you do this to me Nancy?! You fucking slut. I gave up everything for you! My mother hates me I missed my father’s funeral I moved my entire life for your bullshit career! I mean I work a few late nights and I find you fucking him?!” I pointed towards the man with my knife and both of their eyes widened in fear.

“Virgil, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who in shit’s name is Nancy? Did my husband put you up to this; did Greg tell you to watch me? I promise you whatever it is he’s paying you I’ll double it if you just leave and never tell him a word…okay…just leave.”

But I couldn’t be bought, no this bitch had hurt me for the last time.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I snarled, my lips pulling back into a horrible sneer, “Until we talk about this Nancy. Tell me why you did this, please just explain it to me baby. Did I not satisfy you; why did you feel you had to go outside of our marriage? I WILL NEVER LOVE AGAIN DO YOU REALIZE THAT! YOU’VE RUINED ME!”

She looked on the edge of tears now, her lower lip trembling. “Virgil I really have no idea what the hell you’re talking about. Please just leave us alone and I’ll never cheat again okay, please.”

And now the tears were falling down my cheeks once more, expertly navigating the many trodden pathways across my face.

“You stupid ungrateful bitch, I did everything for you. I gave you my entire fucking life and all you do is crush my heart in your hands and rip it to a million pieces,” I screamed.

I waved the knife around wildly, drool falling from my pulled back lips onto the ground, and then began pacing around the room, pulling at my hair.

“I bought you this house, I gave you my total uncorrupted love and you go and do this in my very home, in the very bed in which I gave my fucking virginity to you!”

My eyes were burning and bloodshot and at the sight of me she burst into tears. The man could no longer sit in silence, he realized the longer I paced the angrier I got the scarier this situation became.

“Now calm down okay,” he said as he stood and began walking towards me, his right arm outstretched, “Just put down the knife and we’ll all talk about this like adults.”

I stared back at him; my pacing ceased, and couldn’t believe my ears. Was this home breaking, destruction bringing, wife fucking asshole trying to tell me what to do in my own house? After what he had down-assist in the murder of my pulverized heart-was he trying to subdue me as though I was a child having a tantrum?

He continued to move closer and I began to tell him to stay back to keep his distance lest he be sorry. But just then his sheet fell and exposed to me the penis with which my wife had just had her brains fucked out. He was still hard; apparently enjoying this slight turn of events and my shadow fell on it.

Hatred overflowed within me as I realized he wore no protection. He had poked my wife without any thought of anyone else; no respect what so ever, not even to insure no STDs or pregnancies came of their evil escapade.

My mind darkened and heart raced as I stared at his instrument of evil and the gleam at the end of the knife came back to me. Light was the only foe darkness could not fight back.

He began to say something else, his arm close enough to touch me now, but I was done talking. The gavel had to be struck down. Justice must be enforced.

With a scream I plunged the knife into him from right under his penis at an angle with which it poked through the top and penetrated his pelvis.

Blood poured out in a steady trickle before I twisted the knife, my own dick getting hard at the sound of his surprised screams.

I pulled it out and licked the blood savoring his misery. His screams increased as he fell to the floor cupping the mutilated friend he had once enjoyed.

I brought my foot down onto his ribs chuckling as I heard them crack and then looked deep into his eyes: Two swirling whirlpools of shit. “If the devil had a wife, would you have dared to fuck her!?” I asked right before I brought the knife down into his throat.

The blood spurted and showered me in its majesty as he choked and spasmed, clawing at his throat, his eyes wide with shock. His toes were curling once more but with no pleasure to speak of. He was right though, the fucking extravaganza had but begun.

I wanted to stand there forever, to bask in his death and roll in his blood, but the bitch was determined to spoil my fun and keep me unhappy.

The paralyzing shock of watching her boyfriend die loosening its bonds, she let out a scream that brought me to my senses.

I stared over at her, my eyes sweeping over her milky white legs leading up to a partially exposed thigh. I closed my eyes and saw her on top of me, saw myself kissing and touching and loving her higher and higher until she gasped in pleasure as I reached the promise land.

My cock throbbed, pulsating of its own accord and it called out for her, I needed those thighs around me, I needed to feel the warmth of her passion.


My pants were ready to burst and finally I could not fight this any longer. My marriage needed to be reaffirmed. I once again was forced to put down my flag and claim her as my own. By any means necessary.

I began to walk towards her, my lust now poisoning my bloodstream and filling my veins with throbs of necessity. But the screams rang out of her louder and louder until I felt my brain would explode and the throbbing which had now reached my brain became an enraged roar.

With a scream I brought down my knife, blind to where it would land and staggered backwards as the screams became shrills of pain and agony.

I opened my eyes and glee came back at the sight of her hand, blood running down the palm in steady rivers, pinned to the mattress by my switchblade.

Her face was pale and eyes were bloodshot, her mouth was foaming and drooling and mixing with the steady landslide of mucus falling from her nose.

In her frenzy her sheet had fallen and exposed one perfect, sloping breast hard and waiting. Sensitive to the slightest touch. Jiggling in time with her screams.

I reached out and grabbed it, squeezing with every last bit of strength I could yet afford. Its soft tender surface sent jolts of pleasure throughout my entire body making my penis twitch and sputter. I brought my thumb over the nipple and pinched it until I could feel the skin give way to the surging blood underneath. Her back arched and she screamed once more but I was now deaf to her pain, my pleasure came first. Trembling, I brought my mouth down and first tenderly licked at the blood tantalizing her nipple hoping her pleasure was equal to mine, and then closed my lips around it, sucking at the sustenance I had been craving for much too long.

But once again my happiness was too much to bear for the bitch I had once chosen to marry, and with her free hand she began pulling at my hair and scratching at my neck leaving long trails of deep bloody gashes.

The pain brought her screams back to me tenfold and my patience thinned. These drama queen episodes needed to end. I reached into those magical pockets of mine, this time the left one, and found yet another switchblade.

Holding her left hand steady by the wrist, I stabbed it into her pinning both of her hands down and insuring one less obstacle protecting her diminishing fortress.

The expected agonized scream came once again but this time I was ready for it. Reaching into my left pocket once more my hand cupped around a small, smooth steel ball. Pulling it out I realized that it came with an adjustable band tied to each side.

“Shut the fuck up!” I screamed as I pushed it into her mouth and held it against her vicious struggles. I pulled the band up and over and tightened it, muffling her screams to dull moans of grief.

An alarm began ringing in my head, the automatic timer setting itself. It was maybe two minutes since she had screamed giving me maybe another ten before the cops showed their judgmental, unsympathetic faces.

That left me with five minutes of fun.

She stared up at me, tears squeezing out of her eyes and running down her cheeks creeping slowly down the arch of her neck and onto her chest where they sparkled. Gems meant to be excavated by my expert hands.

I traced a wet path slowly with my tongue, this time by passing her nipples and continuing down. As my tongue reached her bellybutton I tore the sheet from her bottom half and traced her labia with my left pinky feeling the folds give way and savoring its wetness.

I brought my head down and tasted her slowly, the flavor turning my blood into a tidal wave of excruciating want. She kicked and struggled but I held her legs apart, digging my nails into the insides of her thighs as I pulled at her folds with my teeth.

With a sudden urgency she brought her leg up and struck it down onto my head and in response I tore at her folds, the juices inviting a trickle of blood, and bit down on her clitoris.

Her back arched in pain once more and her legs kicked and spasmed landing blows all over my back. The pain was only an aphrodisiac meant to heighten my senses but nonetheless I felt she was out of place, it was I who ran this and she needed to be educated.

I reached into my pocket and was disappointed to find it empty, all my helpful tools exhausted, save for a dagger which I had tucked within my trench coat.

I brought it out and presented it to her enjoying the look of horror that painted her face. I grabbed hold of her left thigh and held it onto the bed. The knife plunged in the fold separating her leg from her pelvis and dragged down with desperate slowness tearing the skin like paper.

She screamed a dull murmur which never escaped the steel ball placed firmly in her mouth as the blood flowed between her legs, down the inside of her thigh, under her calf and onto the bed sheet. Flowers of crimson red erupted to color the clean yellow sheets two people had used as a means to hide their atrocity. I used it to further declare my message.

I stared deep within her eyes, savoring her terror, and brought my head down once more, licking at the blood, tearing at the sheets of loose skin surrounding the wound. My penis stood erect and throbbing and could wait no longer.

I pulled it out and presented it to her, proud of my accomplishment, my penis the final dagger to penetrate her. I slowly brought it over her lips, tickling her labia and covering it in blood. It pounded and surged ready for release but I held it back.

I still had two minutes.

She no longer struggled but lay there, ready for her much needed reward. Ready to be sent off to hell on an express train of pleasure and euphoria. And I was the fucking conductor.

Without warning I pushed myself into her, allowing her fortress to be toppled by my final wave of attack. My body jerked and trembled as I slowly pushed in and pulled out, her wet excretions and oily blood the perfect lubricant. I could have died right then.

But then I stared into her eyes and saw her disgust, her pain, her misery. She wasn’t enjoying me at all, I was disappointing her. Tears slowly swept down her cheeks and over her neck.

I pushed in harder still, pounding her brains out, my penis on the verge of explosion, but still she never orgasmed. She never enjoyed it at all.

My lust turning to rage I pulled out the silver ball and asked her how much she loved me. How much she was enjoying herself, how much pleasure I was giving her.

She responded by spitting in my face and shouting, “Get out of me you crazy motherfucker!”

And just then I came, my insides flowing out of me and falling into the unworthy abyss of the selfish bitch before me.

She didn’t want me, but suddenly, I didn’t want her either.

“If I can’t pleasure you,” I whispered gently into her ear, “I guess my toys will have to suffice.”

I plunged the ball back into her mouth, breaking some of her teeth and shoving it down her windpipe as far as I could.

As she choked and struggled for air I took the dagger into my right hand and thrust it into her vagina. Her back arched and legs kicked as I brought the dagger in and out, tearing at the inner walls of her hole. She struggled to scream or moan but could barely breathe and I wept with delight at the sight of her eyes bulging as her vagina leaked blood.

And right before the last of her life was choked out of her, right before the last of her breath was squeezed out by that beautiful ball; I took the dagger and plunged it into her stomach. I dragged it down and ripped my nails into the gash I had created, pulling her open and grabbing at her intestines.

Her body spasmed and her throat filled with blood which flowed out from behind the steel ball falling in rivers down her neck and further leaving the sheets with my testament of passion.

I pulled at her rope of intestine and inserted it into her vagina, plugging her demon hole forever. Her eyes stared at me, filled with blood which trickled down like tears and her legs gave two more kicks before falling, limp. I bent down and kissed her bloodstained cheek.

I stood up and stared down at my sacrifice, crucified onto the bed where all her sins had been committed. For sluts there is no salvation. I grabbed the dagger and prepared for its final use.

Grabbing her by the hair I ripped the dagger across her neck and began sawing at the tendons, getting through the bone and detaching the final bits of skin from her shoulder. The blood poured out over my hands wet and sticky and the smell filled the air making me hard once again.

Finally I made it through and held her head-the steel ball still trapped in her mouth, her eyes still open and staring at me in shock and pain-by its red red hair watching with a renewed vigor as the blood fell to the floor from her open neck in a stream.

The alarm now shrilled and cried: I had taken too long. I had maybe no more then four minutes left to take care of my escape.

With one final look at my artistic genius I ran upstairs, stripped off my clothes and turned on the water in my tub. As I waited for it to fill up for my quick immersion to cleanse myself of the day’s activities, I opened my medicine cabinets. I reached behind the squadron of unopened medicine bottles staring back at me screaming accusations. Rite-X read the name scrawled across the bottle. A tagline near the bottom announced: For the daytime terrors and nighttime screams. Remember who you are guaranteed!— Psychosis medicine. My hand closed around a small key cold and dusty. I ran to my closet, inserted the key, opened the door and pulled out a giant cooler.

Within it, beneath a mountain of ice, lay three heads: each beautiful, each sporting its own grimace of terror, each sucking on a steel ball for the rest of eternity.

Among them lay the head of Nancy, my original Eve, the first of my godly projects for salvation. She had broken my heart and so I ripped out hers and tore off her head. Karma.

And as I stared from the head I held to the one that once belonged to my lover I realized I had been tricked once again. In my fury I got confused, but no matter. The slut deserved what she had gotten anyways.

I sat, basking in my warmth, watching the little spirals of blood all around me and waited, resting for no more than a minute and then jumping into action. My bath had sufficed and cleansed me and though I wished to rest longer there was still work at hand.

I threw on some clothes, grabbed my briefcase full of the money I had received from the hefty life insurance policy my wife had died with (the divorce had never gone through in time, lucky me), the cooler holding my trophies and accomplishments, and a red, aluminum tank of gasoline I always kept for emergencies.

I quickly doused my apartment and lit a match, watching as the little possessions I had acquired in the last three months went up in a heap of smoke and flame.

The worn thin, brown, moth eaten couch I found outside somebody’s house waiting for the garbage man sat in the corner, slowly burning to the ground. My clothes, an array of trench coats and soiled underwear I hadn’t washed in months, sat in the middle like some short homeless person writhing in pain beneath the inferno.

I turned my back on the atrocity and ran downstairs, hauling my possessions behind me. I wasted no time further admiring my work though I yearned to stare at it all a moment longer before it burned to nothingness.

I tossed the last of the gasoline upon the slut and her lover and lit one last match. I held it up, watching as it flickered in the air and suddenly the dollarama in the corner of the room caught my eye.

They were all staring at me, pleading me to let them live, but they knew what was next. They knew what had to be done. They were no more than collateral damage for the hell the slut had brought to them.

I tossed the match and it landed in the stomach of my whore, instantly spreading and licking at her entire body till flames shot out of the open stump of her head and burned at the sliver of intestine still attached to her vagina.

The sheets caught next and carried the fire to the rug where it began to shoot off in little lines where the gas had fallen. One particular ray of flickering beauty sped towards her lover’s body, hitting his hair and spreading to the gas I smothered him in.

The smell of burning flesh and the pop that came as the flames ate at them and as their eyes balls and other essentials popped with the heat was fantastic. An orchestra fit for a king.

I turned to leave but still the dollarama haunted me, still those damn creatures would not let me leave. Their eyes shone with fear and begged for mercy. So I obliged.

I ran to the kitchen and found some lighter fluid and quickly doused them as well and threw one last match in their direction. I was satisfied to see their little faces melt and their clothes blaze, their death was quick and nothing could haunt my dreams.

The whirring of sirens in the distance hit me like a hammer. They were coming; I had no more than seconds left. Time to make an exit.

I dragged my supplies into the living room and turned towards the door, the smoke from the raging oven not ten feet from me was becoming unbearable. The house was burning faster than I had anticipated.

But no matter I was almost out, the door knob was in reach and I had but to turn it and run into the free world with my work successfully executed.

Then I heard it.

The sound froze my bloodstream and instantly my bladder let loose spilling urine all over my freshly soaked legs. I heard crying, whimpering, sobbing. Pitiful cries for help.

I heard Jason.

I always wanted children but the one chance I had was stolen by an angry god and a whorey vessel meant for nothing more than satanic sin. There was a miscarriage and my only son died before I ever met him.

But it was all a lie after all, here he was crying and begging for me. He’s alive! I thought My baby lives and he’s dying oh my fucking god I killed the most precious thing in the universe!

Nothing else mattered anymore, not the sirens, not the smoke, not the flames, not my work.

My baby was in trouble.

I dropped my luggage to the ground and turned towards the licking and crackling of flames. I opened the door leading to the room of judgment and stepped into a wall of smoke which ran up my nostrils and stabbed at my eyes.

I clawed through the plaster of smog, struggling to make my way towards my beautiful eternity, towards the reward due to me after years of insufferable good work.

Through the smoke I caught the last glimpses of my bitch and her lover, their hair ablaze, their skin burnt and peeling back to reveal charcoal black insides, their scalp opening to expose pearl white bone.

Amongst the crackling of the flames came an S.O.S: the cries and screams of the wailing angel in my midst. I put my coat over my mouth and felt my way towards the sound, the heat of the flames singing the hair on my palm and burning the tips of my fingers.

I fell to my knees amongst the tongues and cringed in pain as the flames ate through my pants, hungrily chomping at the meat inside. I patted the ground, withholding screams of misery as the flesh was slowly burned off.

The sound was louder, my baby was near, and no amount of pain could keep me away. I could smell my flesh roast, could smell the barbeque occurring in my pants and the chiscabob which had at one point been my fingers.

My eyes streaming, my fingers burning, my legs frying, my throat swelling and constricting my windpipe, I felt my heart beat in my ears as I reached it, as the cacophony of agony rang in my ears.

I reached out and felt him, felt the soft skin of his left hand, felt the blood surge in his veins as he kicked and screamed and pumped his furious fists. And as I brought him towards me I realized he was fine, he was still untouched by the surrounding inferno, his plump, clear, moist skin contrasting with the peeling, burnt, bleeding hands I held him with.

He emanated a glow which instantly dissolved the flames around me and left only us, only a father staring deep into the eyes of his only son, into those deep blue pools of eternity, only a son screaming his cheeks a rosy pink and wailing for salvation.

And within those eyes I saw his mother, smiling back at me, cooing to my little Jason, commenting with tingles of love and chimes of affection as she held the slowly undulating, sleeping form of my child. My family, my heaven, my reward.

As I sat staring at him the window to my right exploded outwards bringing to me an unfamiliar sound, an alarm overshadowing the cries of my baby.

I realized now that I was too late, I had taken much too long, and with a heavy heart I turned my eyes down to discover a doll, its voice box melting and bringing lower and lower cries every second, where my son once lay.

Its face looked up at me, sparks shooting from its eyes, flames springing from its mouth, and pain rushed at me, flooring me with its intensity.

The wax melted and coated my hands in gloves of lava as my hair caught fire and legs exhausted the last of its fat to feed the ravenous tongues.

My coat was an orgy of fire and my face stung with landed ash. The pain was too great; the room was getting dark, my consciousness giving way to the agony.


Moments before the darkness swallowed me I heard a splintering of wood and another explosion as the door was rammed in, hands following the broken timber and enveloping me in their grandeur.

Death, finally catching up with me, taking me to where I willingly sent many before, stretching to receive me into his chambers for eternity.

The walls stare at me mockingly, whispering their ridicules, taunting me to beat against them till my fists bleed, till my skull sloshes with my liquefied brains. I can still taste the guard’s blood, my tongue coated in it.

My arms have gone numb at the sockets, the blood struggling to flow through my forced embrace. My nose invites yet another taste, snot and more blood as it falls in an avalanche into my waiting mouth.

I lay, panting, in the middle of the floor, my enraged struggles subdued by the tranquilizer making its steady journey to my brain, flooding me with its mercy.

Images are invited by my swimming consciousness: my revival in heaven run with men in uniforms coated with blood and decorated with fluorescent lights; my trial in which my poor, bumbling, sorry excuse for a second hand defense attorney pleads insanity and watches with relief as I’m sentenced to twenty years and carted away towards Timberlawn Mental Facilities; my encounter with my latest enemy, Fatass Power Hungry Small Dicked Guard No. 7, who I greeted with a bite worthy of Tyson to the ear, laughing and dancing in the majesty of his spurting fountain of crimson delight; struggling as they pull my straight jacket on and stab me in the ass with six inches of bliss.

Twenty years, nothing at all to sweat, but grains in the hour glass of time, you’ll be out before you know it, I hear my lawyer exclaim and of course he’s right, I’ll be out and on with my work in no time. No sweat.

My final image seeps before me and stands still, suspended in the cruelty of time: my face, nothing more than a disarray of callused, white flesh and a ravine of scars. My left eye is completely gone, popped from the intensity of the flames my angels tell me, and my eyebrows leave nothing but a diminishing tan line behind. My scalp shines with patches of bright pink where hair will never grow again and my cheeks wrap around the hole that is my mouth, now completely devoid of lips, and present my nose, but a remnant of a once magical tower, now reduced to a hovel with a hole. The entire left side gone and the tip tender with healed flesh, but one nostril stands proudly, constantly bleeding and running to announce its existence.

Yes, it’s only a matter of time and I’ll see the light of day once more, and never again will I be duped, never again will I allow myself to fall for my hallucinogenic calamity of a mind.

And now more than ever my work is crucial, for never again can anybody love a face as hideous as mine. But no matter, for somewhere out there is my bitch, somewhere out there is the woman who left me and killed my child, somewhere out there she lays or kneels, feeling the ecstasy of an orgasm in grasp, never knowing that outside that very window I sit, waiting to punish her for her transgressions.

I sit, biding my time, twenty, thirty, forty years I shall wait till I find her and finish my work once and for all, but until then, I’ll just sit here, entertaining the thoughts of my solitude, of my life, of my eternity with the pangs of rejection. Until the day I feel accepted once more.
Irving, June 25, 2006
Grand Prairie, October 23, 2006