Dedication: Renae. You're a true hero. You're our leader. We all love you.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Advil. Zanax. Drugs to calm this sleeping thrill. I need my guitar. I have to sing something, it's in my head. I know this song by heart. But my head's infernal throbbing just refuses to subside. Beating away like a six year old at Michael's drum kit. I spin the pillow around, search for the cold spot. The heat emitting from every part of me is just making the sweat bead even more. So crazy.
I honestly can't understand why this keeps happening. My mind always resurrects the images of the red-head. That gorgeous girl with the majestic green eyes. Eyes so full of pain, like death resonates from her. Maybe she's an angel. God, thinking hurts too.
"Michael!" I bellow. My voice echoing through my brain sending shockwaves of stabbing pain to ravage my body once again.
I hear thudding, booming sending my head into another dimension of hurt. This is so unfair! What the hell is going on?!?!
"Ken! Thank Jesus, you're alright. We're all spinning out, out there, hey. Man you've got to be on some radical trips for this shit to go down." He grins down at me. Me on my bed. My comfortable bed. So cold. So alone. Alone. Like always. No-one.
"Stop being ghetto, you sound like a squirrel on speed." Kennedy manages through her agony. "Get me my guitar. I have to get this shit out."
"Yes Mistress." He smiles evilly at me and backs out of the room in a bow. Son of a. If I were a tiger I would attack him. Castration being my main aim. Stupid boy. Stupid, stupid boy. Yay! No pain for 3 seconds! Just cursed myself. Damn jinxing-ness.
Well he's fast. And NOT in the immature sexual way either. I have no idea about him in that aspect, and don't have any desire to know. That'd be against my preferred lifestyle. I like my choice in that area. Girls are just. sexy.
"Here ya go. Acoustic and tuned for your pleasure." Michael hands me my brand spankin' new Maton semi acoustic. Hand crafted Australian guitars with the most amazing strumming quality. Think I love her. Her name is. dammit I have no idea what to call her. I name all of my guitars, you see, and. wait. What's this? It's perfect.
I grab the silky smooth neck and, using the instrument's weight to gain leverage, I swing my body into an upright position. Head spin. Sat up to quickly. At least my head's feeling better now. All. non-evil thumping pain and doom. What is it with me and dribbling crap lately? It's like I'm speaking a different version of English.
My fingers form the shape of A minor and I start the song, mellowing and harmonizing in my head simultaneously.
"You with the sad eyes
Don't be discouraged
Oh I realize
It's hard to take courage
In a world full of people
You can lose sight of it all
And the darkness inside you
Can make you feel so small
But I see your true colours
Shining through
I see your true colours
And that's why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colours
True colours are beautiful,
Like a Rainbow
Show me a smile then,
Don't be unhappy, can't remember
When I last saw you laughing
If this world makes you crazy
And you've taken all you can bear
You call me up
Because you know I'll be there
And I see your true colours
Shining through
I see your true colours
And that's why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colours
True colours are beautiful,
Like a Rainbow"
Man. More tears! Am I turning into a child? Am I regressing? Why do these lyrics have to touch me so much? Why do I feel like I'm in love with nothing and hating everything? Why do most rhetoric's start with 'why'?
So I set my new guitar aside and smile. Grinning through tears always makes everything and nothing more bearable. So much wisdom in one so young. Laying back down on the firm mattress of my queen sized bed I feel suddenly at peace. My emotions just aren't my own. at all. So erratic. If I didn't know better I'd I'm pregnant. But there'd be an enquiry, I assure you.
"Willow." I whisper and turn the corners of my lips up softly in the direction of my new guitar. Such a perfect name. So serene. Like a pool of water. So why does my pool feel like fat kids are doing diving practise in it?
-----------------------------------------------------------
Advil. Zanax. Drugs to calm this sleeping thrill. I need my guitar. I have to sing something, it's in my head. I know this song by heart. But my head's infernal throbbing just refuses to subside. Beating away like a six year old at Michael's drum kit. I spin the pillow around, search for the cold spot. The heat emitting from every part of me is just making the sweat bead even more. So crazy.
I honestly can't understand why this keeps happening. My mind always resurrects the images of the red-head. That gorgeous girl with the majestic green eyes. Eyes so full of pain, like death resonates from her. Maybe she's an angel. God, thinking hurts too.
"Michael!" I bellow. My voice echoing through my brain sending shockwaves of stabbing pain to ravage my body once again.
I hear thudding, booming sending my head into another dimension of hurt. This is so unfair! What the hell is going on?!?!
"Ken! Thank Jesus, you're alright. We're all spinning out, out there, hey. Man you've got to be on some radical trips for this shit to go down." He grins down at me. Me on my bed. My comfortable bed. So cold. So alone. Alone. Like always. No-one.
"Stop being ghetto, you sound like a squirrel on speed." Kennedy manages through her agony. "Get me my guitar. I have to get this shit out."
"Yes Mistress." He smiles evilly at me and backs out of the room in a bow. Son of a. If I were a tiger I would attack him. Castration being my main aim. Stupid boy. Stupid, stupid boy. Yay! No pain for 3 seconds! Just cursed myself. Damn jinxing-ness.
Well he's fast. And NOT in the immature sexual way either. I have no idea about him in that aspect, and don't have any desire to know. That'd be against my preferred lifestyle. I like my choice in that area. Girls are just. sexy.
"Here ya go. Acoustic and tuned for your pleasure." Michael hands me my brand spankin' new Maton semi acoustic. Hand crafted Australian guitars with the most amazing strumming quality. Think I love her. Her name is. dammit I have no idea what to call her. I name all of my guitars, you see, and. wait. What's this? It's perfect.
I grab the silky smooth neck and, using the instrument's weight to gain leverage, I swing my body into an upright position. Head spin. Sat up to quickly. At least my head's feeling better now. All. non-evil thumping pain and doom. What is it with me and dribbling crap lately? It's like I'm speaking a different version of English.
My fingers form the shape of A minor and I start the song, mellowing and harmonizing in my head simultaneously.
"You with the sad eyes
Don't be discouraged
Oh I realize
It's hard to take courage
In a world full of people
You can lose sight of it all
And the darkness inside you
Can make you feel so small
But I see your true colours
Shining through
I see your true colours
And that's why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colours
True colours are beautiful,
Like a Rainbow
Show me a smile then,
Don't be unhappy, can't remember
When I last saw you laughing
If this world makes you crazy
And you've taken all you can bear
You call me up
Because you know I'll be there
And I see your true colours
Shining through
I see your true colours
And that's why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colours
True colours are beautiful,
Like a Rainbow"
Man. More tears! Am I turning into a child? Am I regressing? Why do these lyrics have to touch me so much? Why do I feel like I'm in love with nothing and hating everything? Why do most rhetoric's start with 'why'?
So I set my new guitar aside and smile. Grinning through tears always makes everything and nothing more bearable. So much wisdom in one so young. Laying back down on the firm mattress of my queen sized bed I feel suddenly at peace. My emotions just aren't my own. at all. So erratic. If I didn't know better I'd I'm pregnant. But there'd be an enquiry, I assure you.
"Willow." I whisper and turn the corners of my lips up softly in the direction of my new guitar. Such a perfect name. So serene. Like a pool of water. So why does my pool feel like fat kids are doing diving practise in it?