The Color Red
I like the color red. It's a beautiful color. Strong, vibrant, full of energy and life. Life. That's the key. Life saturates every part of ones being. It fills us to the top, sometimes brimming over the edge, spilling on the floor in a beautiful, magical cascade of red liquid life.
Drip, drip, drip.
I love that sound. Light reflects off of the metal. Slowly, one drop at a time, the liquid life of my body drips from the gash in my arm to fall into the sink.
Drip, drip, drip, drip.
The pain floods my body. Filling me with pleasure. That must sound weird to you. Pain and pleasure. Not two words that typically collide in the same sentence I know. But for me it is very true.
Pain is my pleasure.
It's the only thing that I know is real. It is the only thing that I know will always be there for me. Friends come and go. Relationships fade. Family members die. And at the end of the universe, when the last living being screams out its utter sorrow to the universe, pain, will still be there.
Pain is real. It is absolutely, the only thing I can count on.
Drip, drip, drip, drip, drip.
The knife in my hand feels so comforting. Solid, and sharp. The red handle of the pocket knife fits perfectly in my palm, as the razor sharp blade bites deeply into my flesh as I draw it firmly once more over my arm.
I am not trying to kill myself. Oh no. I don't want to die. I don't fear death, but I still have too much to do before I can find peace. For now, pain is the only solace I have.
Once again the blade bites into the skin of my upper arm, the tear widens as I pull the blade across my skin putting pressure on it so that it will dig deeper into the muscle. An erotic moan of pure pleasure tears its way free of my lips. Unable to help myself I moan again as the bright red blood runs down the length of my arm to slowly gather itself at the tips of my fingers before it falls free.
Time seems to slow as it falls through the. A near perfectly spherical orb of liquid life, which then splatters in the already more red than white sink.
Drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip.
God, is this wrong? Is this pleasure somehow indecent? Is it perverted? Is it a sin? Is it something else? Or is it what I need it to be? Is it the only real thing in this universe that anchors me to the hell that is called Life?
Help me. Please. Someone help me.
I want it to stop. I want the pain to stop.
No. I need the pain. I can't take life without the pain. It's the only thing that sustains me.
.But. I hate it. I hate the pain that grips me. I hate it, but still, my hand draws the blade across my flesh, and I moan in pure pleasure as the pain assaults my senses, blocking out all other thoughts. and. just letting me. drift.
Someone. anyone. won't you please help me?
Drip.drip..drip...
End.
Ok, I got's not way at all to prove that this has anything to do with X-Men Evolution. Since no names are used I guess you could call this an original piece. But I feel it can be applied to any number of characters there. Rogue being the most obvious. Rogue is my all time favorite character from ANYTHING. The Evo rogue at least, I love her look, her accent, and her attitude.
This piece, though short, holds a special meaning for me. I wrote it from personal experience, not something I'm proud of, but I have to admit that pain helped me in the past. I only hope some people know not to take things too far. There's always a risk that someday, you might put a little too much pressure on the blade, you might cut a little too deep, you might bleed just a little too much, and that would be a tragic end.
I meant what the story said. I personally have too much left to do with my life before I 'm laid to rest. And I intend to fight tooth and nail with everything I have before they stick me in the ground. I suggest we all do the same, cause life is too precious to waste, and too rare a commodity to take for granted.
See y'all around sometime.
I like the color red. It's a beautiful color. Strong, vibrant, full of energy and life. Life. That's the key. Life saturates every part of ones being. It fills us to the top, sometimes brimming over the edge, spilling on the floor in a beautiful, magical cascade of red liquid life.
Drip, drip, drip.
I love that sound. Light reflects off of the metal. Slowly, one drop at a time, the liquid life of my body drips from the gash in my arm to fall into the sink.
Drip, drip, drip, drip.
The pain floods my body. Filling me with pleasure. That must sound weird to you. Pain and pleasure. Not two words that typically collide in the same sentence I know. But for me it is very true.
Pain is my pleasure.
It's the only thing that I know is real. It is the only thing that I know will always be there for me. Friends come and go. Relationships fade. Family members die. And at the end of the universe, when the last living being screams out its utter sorrow to the universe, pain, will still be there.
Pain is real. It is absolutely, the only thing I can count on.
Drip, drip, drip, drip, drip.
The knife in my hand feels so comforting. Solid, and sharp. The red handle of the pocket knife fits perfectly in my palm, as the razor sharp blade bites deeply into my flesh as I draw it firmly once more over my arm.
I am not trying to kill myself. Oh no. I don't want to die. I don't fear death, but I still have too much to do before I can find peace. For now, pain is the only solace I have.
Once again the blade bites into the skin of my upper arm, the tear widens as I pull the blade across my skin putting pressure on it so that it will dig deeper into the muscle. An erotic moan of pure pleasure tears its way free of my lips. Unable to help myself I moan again as the bright red blood runs down the length of my arm to slowly gather itself at the tips of my fingers before it falls free.
Time seems to slow as it falls through the. A near perfectly spherical orb of liquid life, which then splatters in the already more red than white sink.
Drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip.
God, is this wrong? Is this pleasure somehow indecent? Is it perverted? Is it a sin? Is it something else? Or is it what I need it to be? Is it the only real thing in this universe that anchors me to the hell that is called Life?
Help me. Please. Someone help me.
I want it to stop. I want the pain to stop.
No. I need the pain. I can't take life without the pain. It's the only thing that sustains me.
.But. I hate it. I hate the pain that grips me. I hate it, but still, my hand draws the blade across my flesh, and I moan in pure pleasure as the pain assaults my senses, blocking out all other thoughts. and. just letting me. drift.
Someone. anyone. won't you please help me?
Drip.drip..drip...
End.
Ok, I got's not way at all to prove that this has anything to do with X-Men Evolution. Since no names are used I guess you could call this an original piece. But I feel it can be applied to any number of characters there. Rogue being the most obvious. Rogue is my all time favorite character from ANYTHING. The Evo rogue at least, I love her look, her accent, and her attitude.
This piece, though short, holds a special meaning for me. I wrote it from personal experience, not something I'm proud of, but I have to admit that pain helped me in the past. I only hope some people know not to take things too far. There's always a risk that someday, you might put a little too much pressure on the blade, you might cut a little too deep, you might bleed just a little too much, and that would be a tragic end.
I meant what the story said. I personally have too much left to do with my life before I 'm laid to rest. And I intend to fight tooth and nail with everything I have before they stick me in the ground. I suggest we all do the same, cause life is too precious to waste, and too rare a commodity to take for granted.
See y'all around sometime.
