A Delusion of grandeur as blood in its depths.
A deep stare, mixing in to the rumbles from in the fridge, a sweep crack of the window, and let a lone a paranoia that could only be matched with a follow from a snort of his coke. With his elbows up on the table, in-between lays a square cut mirror as its centered with three lines, set along side of the straw and ready for a next sniff.
As the paranoid delusions begin to rabble, with the rumbles from under his feet being provided by from the aches and shakes from out of his fridge as it rolls around in under the window as it it self lets in a wisp for a well-known paranoid air.
A long deep stair in on the fridge as his head tilts in with the star to his noise and the line of powder waiting for him to whiff in. One last stair on to the fridge before what he seeks is now about to kick in.
A leap in fait, the evolution of it being, and now hysteria set free as his seat becomes his one means for seclusion. In a slight as his heartbeat, the light from under his door way comes to a end. His one sense for life set their on his kitchen table. The means for its end.
A double line before who he's been hastened about interrupts what he now see's as his live for the end. A quick look on to his fridge; thinking to him self he knew it was coming and if it was going his way then it indeed will be.
Before he has his means for a last opportunities for a fluffed and bitter end, from behind, his kitchen windows lets in from a smash that has now held him in its hands.
"One fucking leak from out of a bag and hu, ha, your one flying fuck."
And another rushing,
as he's held in, head set up over his coke display and with the slightest of ease as he's held lets him a wind. A wind soothing enough for him to express his gasp in reply's as he's held tightly down in his chair.
"I've got it all. Not a scratch on it. I done my part."
He said, holding his head in along as its held. He keeps a close eye from under the door, seeing the shadows as they rack back and forth.
He knows there's at least two more out there. Having one crazy enough to bust in to his window as it set up on the sixty third floor, thinking about the one or two busboys that roll along in the hall; passing his front door. Is now his unholy answer from when he thought he could had disappeared.
A slap to the back of his head from after he's been unleashed.
"Don't you fucking move. I'll put more holes in your legs from here then the breaths you plan on taking for out that window."
He has been told as his gunmen walks on calmly for the door. Two more gunned men step in along with their pistols drawn as the walk in towards him in the kitchen. He can tell they has been sent to his penthouse sweet from only the crime boss him self. The gun men as they step in, looks at him sitting there like a shook shaken chair, then looks over his head in to the window as the wind blow's in the remains of its glass from off its ledge.
He takes in a quick glimpse, not knowing if his coke trey was going to be scoop; from up off his table.
With the two gunman now in his kitchen along side of their lead; he has himself two choices; one, is to go along and give them what they came for, or two, let them have there ways with him as he was on his way out from this life he has been lead.
"So hand it all over. And we'll be nice. And now. We don't have all fucking night to be putting with your sorry ass."
Was said in a trance for growls of as he looked them all on. His ears begin to rattle to the beats from his heart as the rumbles lead him on cue for the second gun man as he's stood to his left; looking over his last of the lines as they sit on the trey in the only comfort he has left. The lead of the gunman beginning to tap his foot from off the floor, standing there square in front of him as he gives the kitchen one last look then said.
"Gut em, spill the fucker right here right now."
He sat there with his one means of ending the commotion before it set stir; stands up, his arms spread out then says.
"Hey, ho wait up a minute. I'm goods. What the fuck you guy's think. You come hear for the goods I'll give it to ya."
He steps over to the fridge; watching his back from in all his steps. Then before he could let out a breath; of what they thought was going to relief, was now his empowered being as he pulled open the door then leaped up on its fridge.
For once, he had himself a show he could endure. A blood ritual as its being shed. Shed amongst the very souls that had its being lead. A blood taunting death, a visual of what could only bring in its inner creep from the blood gushed out from a bleed in them each.
A quick rip and quick it is. Three bloody torn apart corps, torn before they would have imagined the horror it would endure. A razor in movements as it moved sharper then its cut could bring forth.
God would only know why a creature as such vicious would have ever been placed or brought forth. He knew along, as his deepest of thoughts met in crude for despair. His window as it wisped in a hot summers air, his kitchen as it sat in under a glassed means for the weather of being one close to its sun of a set in the top of the hotels suit of what now is of hells fury as the blood's being licked from one of their own.
The beast licking on as he sets out for a chair, looking at the bloods being before he decides to ooze him self-down. Looking over to his coke; untouched and set there like its been. A steam rises from of his leg as he set's it down to the chair, his other leg following in behind then places his hand up over his knee; knowing he needs to stay aware. He steps in slowly, lifting one foot at a time as he sets over a corps spilling its blood in under the fridge.
His only caution is not to set a blood on his shoe as he steps one foot up on to the table, leaving the other one in the air then an ease steady wobble and he's placed himself on the table.
He looks down as the beast begins to slurp the blood from in the corps wounds. The beast as its filled in its lust striving blood and he knows; in less then a hour its seen will be done and laid out dry for the bones to chewed on.
With one, snort token as his grief starts to ware, from being once in paranoia to being full aware. His next bag of coke is the one thing that has him a stare; His beast in a loving moment as the blood starts to ware.
A oozing feel has now becalmed sensed. He sniffs in to his one final line as his beast begins to set for his sent; Another drug deal to be made and collect, for his beast a beauty and for him; until then as his delusions of grandeur is a paranoia once met.
Until then; The End
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Poem / Horror
Poem / Horror
Poem / Horror
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