sundays

as he came into the room, his eyes raced and the static sporadicly lit up his every thought.he was mentally tied down, trying to pause the buzzing of mosquitos flying in and out out of his bloodied nostrils. a strange man started preaching to him. he was losing his sanity. he knew no good from evil, love was hate and hate was love. he looked over at his companion, now covered in bells, gentle high pitched bells. her face showed no emotion as her arms flailed about, hitting the bells together. she was in love with him and he knew that as long as he heard those bells, she would be there. just staring at him, unflagging in her noisy beauty. he also knew that the lighting of the room would be crucial to the feeling of any emotion whatsoever.

he cried and cried, knowing he was afraid of confrontation. he was being ripped apart on the inside but was always to weak to tell anyone. bloodshed and lovely rigidness had aged his body and was ready to retire. he had been through a million doors, each one twisting and turning asnd only leading more fucking doors. despite the abundance of everything he would ever need, he had always wanted what we could.nt have. the bells. the bells were gone. the woman was gone. he panicked and ran from room to room but found nothing. it was so very cold that he began to shake.

he entered the last room he knew of, feeling cold as a starfish. there was his woman friend tied to a post. naked of her bells and clothing, wearing only a pair of cheap party socks. he had not even begun the procedure when the door burst open behind him. 3 young girls came in and began cleaning his tools. he turned on some music and groped the girls to the beat as they cleaned.