HOME | DD

Description
There was music and laughter,
the drums to the noose and the cackling of the hangman.
It was death.
It was a single scream.
It was another day.
The rope was cut by the scythe
and the body bag looked alot like a cloak.
But the body still swung where it was,
until they took it off the noose
and put it in a regular bag.

But for that time it was a pendulum,
tick, tock, the pulse has stopped...
till they sliced him down.
The scream of my alarm clock
woke me the next day,
I looked to the other clock,
the great grandfather clock,
and saw the pendulum tick, tick, tick,

it was made of rope.
Tick, scream, tick, scream, tick, scream, tock.
I listened in on my alarm,
(it would not stop till I would slam on it)
I listened carefully, beep, beep, beep,
scream.
Slam. Silence. Bliss.
A beautiful great grandfather clock
flesh and rope pendulum, scream, scream, scream,
I switched my alarm back on,
beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep,
beep, beep, scream silence. I turned it on again.

Then she walked in and turned it off.
Whine, bitch, moan, whine, scold,
blah, blah, bore...
There is a back story to her;
slept behind his back,
stabbed another in the back
whilst back-chatting about someone else.
She suddenly took a different form,
I saw her as a backwards glass vase
with the word "sin" wrote down the vase,
the vase was radiating discontent,
and I could see the vase was about to be broken.
The vase had no use, it was ugly and too big.
And then I saw where the kitchen knife was,
and it was replaced with a scythe.
Well, the kitchen knife was too small.
"Begone, foul vessel of sin!"
I think I said something like that.
Stupid. But appropriate.
I shattered the vase
and suddenly she came back
with a kitchen knife in her.
She was wide eyed with closed lids.
She was panting, pant, pant, pant,
silence.

And then I was death.

I could smell the other vases out there.
I could taste the smell.
So I took the kitchen knife out of it's torso
and grabbed my coat.
I stepped out the door
and saw my scythe in my hand, my cloak wrapped around me.
So I went in search, using his perspective.

Step, step, scream, scream, silence.
Gush, gush, cry, cry, silence.
Cry, cry, shout, shout, silence.
Crack, crack, moan, moan, silence.
Swish, clang, clash, crack, daze...
(I failed at the last.)
My scythe was lost,
my cloak torn down to a coat.

And then there was music and laughter

I stood there, I was ready to shatter, I was ready.
I was my own pendulum,
I stained enough glass.
I was the only one who saw that cloaked figure.
I saw no scythe though.
But why was apparent when he outstretched his arm,
knocking the hangman, making him pull that lever.
It's why he witnessed this while I wore the cheap necklace.
Death was subtle.

Pull, click, scream, laugh,
silence.

Description
There was music and laughter,
the drums to the noose and the cackling of the hangman.
It was death.
It was a single scream.
It was another day.
The rope was cut by the scythe
and the body bag looked alot like a cloak.
But the body still swung where it was,
until they took it off the noose
and put it in a regular bag.

But for that time it was a pendulum,
tick, tock, the pulse has stopped...
till they sliced him down.
The scream of my alarm clock
woke me the next day,
I looked to the other clock,
the great grandfather clock,
and saw the pendulum tick, tick, tick,

it was made of rope.
Tick, scream, tick, scream, tick, scream, tock.
I listened in on my alarm,
(it would not stop till I would slam on it)
I listened carefully, beep, beep, beep,
scream.
Slam. Silence. Bliss.
A beautiful great grandfather clock
flesh and rope pendulum, scream, scream, scream,
I switched my alarm back on,
beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep,
beep, beep, scream silence. I turned it on again.

Then she walked in and turned it off.
Whine, bitch, moan, whine, scold,
blah, blah, bore...
There is a back story to her;
slept behind his back,
stabbed another in the back
whilst back-chatting about someone else.
She suddenly took a different form,
I saw her as a backwards glass vase
with the word "sin" wrote down the vase,
the vase was radiating discontent,
and I could see the vase was about to be broken.
The vase had no use, it was ugly and too big.
And then I saw where the kitchen knife was,
and it was replaced with a scythe.
Well, the kitchen knife was too small.
"Begone, foul vessel of sin!"
I think I said something like that.
Stupid. But appropriate.
I shattered the vase
and suddenly she came back
with a kitchen knife in her.
She was wide eyed with closed lids.
She was panting, pant, pant, pant,
silence.

And then I was death.

I could smell the other vases out there.
I could taste the smell.
So I took the kitchen knife out of it's torso
and grabbed my coat.
I stepped out the door
and saw my scythe in my hand, my cloak wrapped around me.
So I went in search, using his perspective.

Step, step, scream, scream, silence.
Gush, gush, cry, cry, silence.
Cry, cry, shout, shout, silence.
Crack, crack, moan, moan, silence.
Swish, clang, clash, crack, daze...
(I failed at the last.)
My scythe was lost,
my cloak torn down to a coat.

And then there was music and laughter

I stood there, I was ready to shatter, I was ready.
I was my own pendulum,
I stained enough glass.
I was the only one who saw that cloaked figure.
I saw no scythe though.
But why was apparent when he outstretched his arm,
knocking the hangman, making him pull that lever.
It's why he witnessed this while I wore the cheap necklace.
Death was subtle.

Pull, click, scream, laugh,
silence.