the third

he finally came out, the other night. we were soaked in margaritas, to the gills, and I was dancing with a fetching black French girl, whom I kissed passionately moments before she sprayed her guts onto the alabaster carpet.

the beast emerged finally when a new kid, not the brightest, had climbed over a divider on the balcony, and was staring into the neighboring apartment. our music was loud, and out of the fifteen people present, i was one of the only ones of drinking age.

my tones came harsh, cold and clear through the fog of booze, and the buffon rushed at once back to the correct side. at that moment, i could have violently removed his esophagus, and thrown his limp body over the side, for the squirrels to eat.

later, then, but before my sweet tart, who hasn't spoken with me since, soaked down the floor with stomach bile, the mendicant kept at me for ostracizing the cripple who had ratted out my one true friend out here. I told him twice to let it lie, then yelled at him with such a rage in my voice, that it caused the conversations to lull inside, and people to turn their backs on me.

since then he has lay in wait no longer. no more is he an awesome specter buried deep inside, but runs free throughout my mind, teasing me with visions of gore and violence, and digging into my ability to function at all turns.

welcome, friend. welcome back.

X