100 Love Letters I'll Never Send (Psychic Warfare "Love is hate Hate is love," part 3 (C) 2003, 2017

I imagine a beautiful woman’s comforting arms consoling me. Then it’s an angel with its feathers. This time is no different than the countless times before. I can’t resist the temptation to try to find a face-
                   to the Angel-then here comes the skeletons-

As I read another scene about us fighting each other psychically I realize now that I had associated death with love. I wonder if I still do. Thank the LohRd I am sober now; which gives me a chance to do the love thing right.

 2 to 1 excerpt:

                                                 The minutes pass an’ all I can do

 is stare at my ceiling, think about her, and imagine these dots forming into abstract creatures.

He sat right next to her, hoping that perhaps he could get lucky and cop a feel. She was silent as usual.

“It was really nice of your parents to do all this for us. Don’t you think so?” Kathy remained silent.

“Kathy? Kathy?” there was only one way she could free herself and that was to kiss him. Hell, they had been out once before, so it wouldn’t be like she’d be a slut or anything. But timing was everything. Therefore she felt that she would have to manipulate him in some sort of way. She could start by pretending that he was the world to her.

“Yea, Mike I really had a great time together the other evening. I figured we’d have an even better time if we spent the evening here. So I convinced my mother to give us an evening here. Just you and I.” to him, her face was glowing with joy in the candle light. Apparently, her trick had worked on Mike. Now he was relaxed. He was under the illusion that Kathy might actually be falling in love with him.

“After a hard days work at the factory, wielding and unloading all those damn supplies, nothing seemed to be going right for me today. Hell, I almost threw my back out. Yet knowing that I could see you tonight made my day go by quickly. You gave me hope.”

“I’m glad that you feel that way. I have been thinking about you a lot lately as well.” Now Kathy was eating her food. Could it be the beginning of love? She was getting better and before too long she’d be a normal girl again that could not only be tolerant but also enjoy living life.

. By now I’ve gone through half a pack of Black Death cigarettes and four bottles of Dead Guy Ale. Feeling pretty drunk this all seems very absurd. After watching over five hours of death what ideas do I have? Become a hostage of a serial killer? Death by cop? Get eaten alive by humans or animals? It couldn’t be that difficult: all I have to do is go to the nearest Wally World, buy one of those cute redneck rifles and come back here, put my hands around steel freedom…Then…

Red liquid and broken glass breaks on the floor. As she extended her arm to put it around his shoulder she clumsily hit the wine glass.

              Damn it!

                             Repeat:

Anything, like what to do with myself to stop the pain. All I did was fall to my knees dropping the empty bottle I cut my right palm open from the jagged edge piercing into my skin.

“Kathy it’s okay.

It’s okay.” Damn it, just when he thought the evening was going so well. The neurotic lil’ girl starts crying. She cut her right palm while she was frantically trying to pick up the pieces.

“Why won’t you leave me alone.” What was she talking about?

“Hold me, Mike. Hold me.” Of course he held her. “Now come on Kathy let’s see about the cut. And like a caring adoring lover he wiped the painful tears that came from the sting of the rubbing alcohol. “Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.” she thought to herself. She was building up the momentum to kiss him before this had happened. She wanted so desperately to stop feeling anything at all for her ex. Why did he constantly haunt her. She wanted to regain her composure and try to kiss Mike again. But she couldn’t stop crying. He was holding her tightly and close as they sat together on the couch.

“Kathy. Kathy.” He gently placed his fingers underneath her chin and lifted her face up; so they were eye to eye. “Uh huh.” She replied hoping that he would kiss her now. She closed her eyes. A kiss would make everything okay. She opened her eyes after a couple seconds. “We really need to talk about this.”

Probly’ need to get stitches. After I removed the sharp shard of glass from my hand it spurted blood violently into my eyes. What are the chances? Poured some ale on my wound, and wrapped a towel around it. No inspirations of death, just a drunken folly. Tried to take down the 5^th bottle in just one gulp. Didn’t quite make it, as beer and blood spilled onto my shirt. Immediately, I lit a cigarette hoping that the quickening nicotine breaths would ease the now sickening feeling that was coming to my gut. Mindless wails were echoing from the Faces of Death video: a mother with her 12 year old dying son. He was an innocent victim of a drive by shooting. Got shot twice in the stomach. “Burp!” Agghh yea that’s just what I needed. I stair on as the next scene comes haunting me of her memory again:

Lord, it was so long ago. Feel the smooth and soft feathers brushing across my brow. Then covering me, comforting me; an Angel is consoling me. Taking me away from the pain. Hopefully I’ll die in my sleep this time. All is well, until…

Until I turn around. Curious? No. I hope it will be Kathy holding me in my slumber like she did so long ago. Surprisingly, it was her face: high dimples matching her modeling thin face and hassle green eyes that peer so innocently, yet passionately into the depths of my soul. “Baby, I’ve missed you so much.”

              I looked at her with loving eyes. Damn I should have said more to her. Should have treated her better. Will she let it go and love me again? Accept me as hers?

“I hate you! You ruined me! I hope you die!”

“No Kathy! I can change. We can be happy again.”  I pleaded to no avail. Suddenly it felt like my body was being pulled apart. The comforting feathers had changed into many skeletal hands. Hundreds tearing away at my flesh. “NO..NO!” woke myself up from my own screams. I was lying in a pool of vomit and blood. Cigarette butts and broken cigarettes resembled broken bones were scattered about this pool. My cut palm was slowly seeping blood. My head was dizzy and I felt like I had I had just eaten charcoal. To put it plain and simple I felt like what a cigarette put out in a glass of flat beer glass looks like.

             

“Just a phone call away.”

“One call changed my whole life.”

“It was like the person on the other end had been waiting on me to call so my life could be fixed.” Voices were coming from people that were all disfigured and behind electronic snow. All courtesy of my t.v.’s bunny eared reception.

“Miss. Nora Jupiter Jones is your advisor to the stars.” Is this my remedy?

Mike finally got her calm enough by coaxing sips from two pints red wine. She was drunk and getting good and ready. “No one ever seemed to care about the way I felt before.”

“Tell me about it, baby.” They were nose to nose now an’ she could smell the Budweiser nectar on his breath. Soon she could be free. She could do it the easy way and just kiss him. But no…for some reason she sensed it wouldn’t be that easy now. She licked her lips in a sexy way, yet when she leaned forward to kiss him he moved further away.

“Baby, we need to talk about this now.”

It wasn’t so much that he really cared; it was that he wanted to figure out how to tolerate her. He didn’t have any romantic skills; therefore he might have to hang on to her for a while.