2009-10-04, 3:00 a.m.

I awoke-- just the night, like any other.

My left hand has been dead for some time and the floor is wet with a nightmare's sweaty end. The world seems to wreak of dust and sex.

Tonight the Gods revolt, or so they say.

The days done, and has gone on like a plan in the making for a millenia.

She greets me, tears in her eyes. She has now confirmed the love making that has been transpiring for months between her "him" and the girl she now loathes.

Her eyes empty the heartache onto my shirt in the empty classroom. Death for the dead, heartaches rarely heal.

I; his best friend am the weapon. A wound built of basalisk venom, burns like only a betrayal of that magnitude can.

She weeps as I take her --willingly from behind-- the final insult has poured out like magnolia rain, we make hate she and I. Her for him, and I for her.

She cries out in pain and degradation as she gives me a love he has begged for and been denied. She hates him now, and hate can never be healed.

And as I awake this night, I hate him too.

"O, what may man within him hide, though angel on the outward side."
-William Shakespeare

Do nothing

Repitition of HatredLoveless AvenueBurn Out (and) Fade Away