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echo: yabbs.poetry
to: ALL
from: Covenant@yabbs
date: 1994-06-29 23:21:56
subject: once again i babble

From: Covenant@yabbs
To: all@yabbs
Subject: once again i babble
Date: Wed Jun 29 23:21:56 1994

Finale

Its staring at you as usual.
Lying there, licking, stretching, staring.
Just like it should.  Nothing out of the ordinary.
How many times have you locked it out?
How many times has it come back to your sleeping body,
perched on your chest, mocking you?
Why not kill it?  You can't.  You can't do anything.

It's not affected by anything you do.
You're affected just by its prescence.
It's taunting you.  Daring you to try.
Why not.  It's the only thing it understands.
Pain, fear, anguish.  Just minor interests.

Does it care really?
Do you even anymore?
It's scarred like you.
Beaten, kicked, abused, forgotten.
Nothing remains but bland disinterest.
Eyes like that should show some recognition.
These are the eyes of a demon.
No fire and brimstone.
No icy stare and hypnotic gaze.
Just a look.  Nothing more.  No emotion.
You might as well be on some petri dish in a laboratory.
At least there you'd have a purpose.   Some direction.

It hears the click.  There!  The bastard finally reacts.
Not much, but it reacted.  It's watching you closer now.
Waiting.
Watching.
Staring.
Daring.
Raving.

You brought it in.
You called it.   It heard your cry.
Time to settle your obligations.
Time to set things right.
You created it.  Your despair conjured it up.
You're the mouse in its eyes.  
Those wicked slits are gazing even more intently now.
It's free if you try for it.  But you know better.
Your the one who called it.   Not outloud, but nevertheless, it was you.
Skin that cat.  Take the goddamned bastard to hell with you.
For once, and for last, you've taken charge.

SOURCE: yabbs via textfiles.com

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