summer ends

I hoped that it would never end.
And it went and ended anyways.
Fuck.
Summer always ends
and until now I was always happy for that
no bittersweet goodbyes or last hurrah's or tears goodbye
until now I was happy that days of sitting around wishing I had something to do were over
and now...
now its all fucked up
Because no one tells you
When you have a summer that you don't want to end...
It does.
Just like all the rest of the summers
It ends.
And the best thing that you can do, is hope everything you loved about it remains. And thats really what keeps me going. I know hoping everything is a little ambitious of me but really what's the harm in hoping. I'm not hurting anyone.
Sadly though it doesn't seem to deaden the blow any.
The fact remains that summer is over.
And for the first time
I wished it never would.

murderer

I go into my own world
when I enter it there are many things people want to know
they want to know who I am and what I do
Funny thing is so do I
But I guess we can't all have what we want
Welcome to my world


I am walking down the street. I notice everything... its early. Its damp and I feel like I have had a drink in days, but its only been hours. The smell of whisky hasn't left my breath for over four years and I'm not about to let that streak go to waste. My gun feels heavy in my pocket, I wonder if that happens to everyone carrying a firearm for the first time. Though I'd say no one would really ever admit it even if it did. I know I wouldn't.

My cell phone buzz's in my pocket and it startles me a little bit. I let it ring feeling the vibrations against the metal of the gun. It makes a hollow sounds. I imagine thats what a penny feels like as it falls into a tin cup. I'm glad homeless use styrofoam so you never have to hear that sound when you drop them coins. That noise makes me feel empty.

The first that I ever killed was named Mr Narklemon, I just called him Mr N. Its easier to treat them less like people that way I find. Anyways some guy found me and asked me if I could take care of him. At that point in my life I"d do anything I was asked to long as someone slipped enough money into my had. Luckily he sliped just enough. This guy had a vendetta against N though and he said he wanted it done with a knife. I didn't care, method didn't matter long as he was dead and I was paid.

Thats why this is my first time with a gun. Ever since that first time I became well known by my sharp knife and sharper cuts. Nothing felt as clean as those cuts. But this time everything was going to be different... I barely wanted to see blood this time, as apposed to feeling it on my hands. This time it had to be clean.

Life, Lies, and Butterflies