Microphonic

My first thread, be gentle

I walk in a forrest.
The grass, like knives, cut me.
The leaves from the trees, like so many razors, wound me on their gentle journey to the ground.
The sun, forever above, blinds me with its indifference.
I walk in a forest, because there is nothing else.
Not that I am ungrateful...

I chance upon a lake, surrounded by a small beach of glass.
such an oddity, this beauty, guarded by the broken shards.
So I enter, because there is nothing else.
Not that I am ungrateful...

The water reveals its nature.
The burn of gasoline on many wounds.
Filling every corner, every space, every hole in my flesh, with perfect design.
The pain, ever present, is no more unbearable than before.
and so I go deeper.
The sun does not see me here, and the time passes slowly.
My lungs burn, my blood becomes acid in my veins.
So I wait, because there is nothing else.
Not that I am ungrateful...

Soon my will fails.
The water, pressing, engulfing, begins to cloud my mind.
For a moment I struggle, flailing wildly.
Then the darkness comes, cool and calm.
Followed by a glorious nothing...

Conciousness comes at a heavy price.
My eyes open to the blinding sun.
The tears burn as they roll down my tattered cheeks.
A man, a salesman, pulls me by my feet across the beach, and back to that cursed grass.
"Now now, that's not allowed, we'll have to find something else." He says with a smile.
He opens his briefcase as he sits down in front of me.
"Maybe this, that, or the other." He points as he turn the case towards me.
I struggle to sit up and look at his wonderous goods. My body all but defeated by the myriad of wounds.
"I can not afford those." I admit saddly.
"Perhaps we can work something out." He says.
"Here's a shiny new opportunity." He tells me, holding it out for me to inspect.
"All it will cost you is unbearable pain."
"Well, that's not so bad." I say, still pulling the bloodied pieces of glass from my back.
"Great!", He says as he hands it to me. "You'll have to make several payment of course."
"How many?" I ask
"Oh, every few minutes or so." He replies.
"Fine, but how many?" I inquire.
"Oh, just until you die." He answers with a smile.
It is hard to explain what followed, my head was still swimming from the whole ordeal, But just as the meaning of his words began to coalese in my mind something struck me.
Pain could not describe what it is I felt.
It was as if someone had made the perfect weapon, designed with thought and care for me alone and drove it will skill and precision into the back of my skull.
I do not know if I screamed, but I remember my body convulsed, contorting from the sheer agony.
When I regained consciousness I found myself lying alone on the grass by the beach.
By my side the broken pieces of my shiny new opportunity lay scattered on the ground, useless, as they glittered in the indifferent sun.
I carry them with me now, as I walk through the forrest.
I cherish them, because there is nothing else.
Not that I am ungrateful...

QuasiMojo

Very good microphonic...keep em coming.

__________________
AzAbOv ZoBeLoE