"Too much bull shit to fuckin ... too much. Beyond this, what with only this little apartment, this studio. Here I am. And I'm not dumb. 031. Bloods. Pop-off. POP-OFF! Lock the B' - Blat. Blat. I'm surrounded by gangs. Gangs and gangs in this piss hole. The dangers and tigers of the night, these panthers evolved like the software on an apple computer while my own mind is a virus...dispelling and quelling resistance like a force of existance and it dawned in that midnight blue. The true color of what I had to do. So I wandered out, murking my mind in the midnight wine that came from the same signs on which aquarius use to dine, I find in time the rhyme for the crime abysmal abnormality sellin these "nigga's" nuetrality as I speak through their abnormality by coming back with a rhythm you can't come see..."
He breaks off, head spinning. This SSI recipient. A sharp tack with a sharper demon in his head. Frenzied by the feelings and fascinations, he goes out to meet the bloods. Recklessly, he begins speaking...
"Blat! Blat! 031! Nigga's better blood up. BLOOD UP! POP-OFF!"
A couple guys lurk in the shadows of trees down the street. Yes, even in the hood there are trees. The shadows of these trees is a demon. Lurking. Blood thirsty. Haunted.
Blake stops. He remembers playing his guitar about 5 months before. Red hot chilli peppers cover of some sort on the acoustic. He's dizzy, a cute girls touching his arm. He laughs, drinks, it fades away to the fading lights of a police car.
"Who's that, he cries into the dark? I'm not who you think I am, I'm not...." - Blake
"Get 'em" - a voice
Blake runs. And he can run fast. But he is tripped and surrounded without any escape. he falls into the dark shade of a hedge on a sidewalk. 3 men surround him as he lays on his back.
(The men speak in tongues)
"Who is this?" - Guy 1
"Can't say." - 2
"haven't seen him..." - 3
"is he human?" - 1
"Data is a yes." - 3
"He's alive." - 2
"Good." - 1 "We need to get him inside."
They hold blake down, her screams. Two hold him down and one applies a cream horizontally across Blakes left cheekbone, from under the eye to under the temple in one, slow motion. his fighting diminishes and he drowns out.
No comments:
Post a Comment