DominusNatus

Cheers to Sisyphus, ever working toward no reward. Our hero unending quests, repeating tasks, everlong in hell; raise you glass. Let him inspire us to soul wearing greatness. To fame eternal in our misery. Drink to your lack of meaning; drink deep.

Here is a toast; to bridges burned, paths of life grown over and rutted with disuse. Let us honor and remember old connections, former friends, and choices unmade. Raise your drinks to the pasts you refused, the lives you never lost. Drink deep, my friends.

I run my fingers lightly through your hair, trailing pumpkin goo behind my fingertips. Orange strings dripping from your wrist, you have never looked so beautiful to me. A handfull of guts and seeds squish between your fingers issuing forth sounds of passion, and I cannot resist you. lodging my carving knife in the grinning vegetable, I touch your shoulder lightly, hands still sticky. Passion takes hold and we lose control over bright goop, scattering seeds over the smiles of our immobile audience.

There he sat, sleeping at his desk. His clothes worn for the third time without washing, hair unkempt while the teacher droned on, oblivious to the people populating the classroom. His hand moves, twitching with pencil in hand. Images flash through his mind, just behind his eyes, and he listens. She leaned in there, barely awake, drifting in and out of attention, not really noticing anything anyone had to say. She pretends to listen to her friends as they talk about their classmates, almost wondering how she matched her clothes this morning, but not quite. As her eyelids slip lower over her pupils, she hears. He lies on the couch, televisio