Last Night.

Kissing me gently, you remind me each breath
is a gift, and most certainly my last.

Take nothing in this life for granted, unspoken yet clear, as
your hand slips through mine.

You know our mission, as do I.

Staring down the barrel of the gun.
I replay my childhood memories in my mind, the favorite ones.
Easter Day glimmering purely like it were yesterday.
The white gloves I wore, the pretty blue dress…searching
for the bounty of chocolate bunnies and badly dyed eggs.

A constellation of nightmares proceed much to my displeasure.
Refocus.
This isn’t about you.

An island.

The forever it seems plane ride to our destination.

I am there with you.

One goal. Remind that superficial fuck there
is much more than this.

The Latin girl speaks to me like I understand, and I fake it.
I know what I am supposed to do.
We pretend like we are friends, and the years have passed since
we last met.

To end ones life, seems so harsh…really.

Sharing a cocktail with my victim, laughing at her brainless stories.
This alone proves to be a form of torture, and I am certain I’ve lost a few
I.Q. points just listening to that cunt babble on.

I focus only on her lips, I bet they taste like cherry.

I hate cherry.

Whispering to her now…

Confessing my long-time crush, lust and need to feel her.

Finding my target beneath me, this was far too easy.
She is speaking to me, twirling her fake hair as I press into her
fake breasts, all I envision at this moment is what her surgically
altered face will look like after the shot gun caresses her
and leaves her jaw less before me…
Kissing her slowly I remind her words can be overrated.

Click.

Bang.

Scream.

The empty cartridge from the 12 gauge transforms her face as methodically
as a surgeons scalpel.

Just as I played it out over and over in my mind, there she is,a disfigured mess. A
plastic beauty lies jaw less and apparently in agony as I wipe her blood from my face.

Death was never the objective. She was meant to suffer endlessly, in her own perceived ugliness. Such a price paid for artificial beauty, must end in tragedy..a reminder that nothing is promised, nothing lasts forever.

Least of all, beauty…no matter the market price.

Picking up the fragmented jaw of the reality TV queen, I smile, simply
relishing the fact she is unable to do just that.

Smile.

Holding her expensive orthodontic work enthusiastically, I place it in her hands, like it was Christmas day, and I just gave her the best present ever…with the biggest fucking red bow on it.

She is mortified and attempts to scream, but her severed vocal cords prove this to be a challenge, and she just wheezes prophetically in objection  None the less, her eyes tell all. The pain, the fear…the helplessness.

The fear that she must live the rest of her privileged life like that of a circus freak.

Then again, if one were to scrutinize her life before, the circus was always a prominent part of her life.

Now it just loves her a little less.

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~ by Agent M on March 21, 2010.

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