Thread: Of Psychosis and Salvation

Red blinked, slightly thrown by the man's words. Two words. Or two and a half... they sounded strange to his ears. Did he just- did he compliment him? He held the cigarette precariously, the other hand that lay limp against his side clenching slowly. I'm... Beautiful? Oh, he was curious now. So so curious... Beautiful? Like the sky? It was the only word he could think of to describe the sky. Just that lingering glimpse. It taunted him from the edges of his mind, threatening to slip away and leave him alone left without it's beauty. Fazed, Red looked up at the dark ceiling, bringing the cigarette shakily towards his mouth. He dragged the smoke into his mouth, but not into his lungs. Poison. Slowly he exhaled, opening his mouth and watching as the tendrils of smoke crawled through the air towards the dark specter. Something flashed behind the grey eyes eyes, making them darken and narrow. He stepped forward suddenly- pressing the burning bud of the cigarette fast against the man's neck. The only part of his flesh that he could see was exposed. Besides his face But Red didn't wish to burn such a pretty face. You're wrong. The cigarette was dropped, the man retreating slowly back to sit on his bed. He drew his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. Dark eyes flickered up to the bright yellow, watching the man's reaction before he began to speak. There is no beauty here. Long fingers clenched and twisted into the cotton pants as he squoze his legs tighter. His voice dropped into a whisper as his head dropped onto his knees. They've taken it. All of it. A strangled sound escaped the shuddering form, before his head snapped back up, eyes locking back on the strange man. A lyrical humming flowed from his lips. Your lips are bloody, you wet yourself He continued on, eyes passing over the blank walls. They try to think, but their minds are wrecked Their thoughts are dead children, their gazes so empty would you live that way? The question wasn't directed at the man, Red simply felt like babbling, and he continued on. They suspect they feel, they suspect they are nothing. In that wondrous Grand Plan. That there is no room in heaven for them. Then they beg for mercy, whine at the end of their time, and say they're sorry for everything. He giggled, finding that exceptionally funny. Where is their god? Great and powerful? Where? He does not interfere, he does not save them from people like me who force their sleepy eyes to open The man tapered off, studying the door in contemplation, his voice falling into a hush. When will his kingdom come..? Cold and magnificent? His fingers clenched once more, setting his jaw. Start praying and shut up! He yelled at the door. His anger quickly dissolved into laughter. ...There is no sympathy. Your 'God' has no sympathy. There was a long pause, before the brown head of hair turned back to the shadow man. He grinned, gesturing with one hand towards heaven as if to call down divine judgement upon himself. Touch your wounds and stroke the embers! Red sang dying down into a fit of chuckles. What was that saying...? You may lead a man to water, but he will only poison it. Sounds about right. Muttering incoherently, he wrapped his arms back around his legs.