Fourth of April

This is really more of a diary entry... silly. They should've had that as a type option. Found this in my journal from a few months back.

It's the fourth of April, obviously.
Can't you f*****g read?
No, but I can count the many beads of sweat decorating your forehead and neck as you shred your skin and writhe beneath the tedious spotlight.
Don't look up, or the foundation of your deal will crumble at first glance.
You can feel her, her presence radiates; poisons you like that of a nuclear power exposure. Overriding the oxygen.
It makes it difficult to breathe. Either way, it's gonna kill you.
If not, torture you and twist your organs until you beg for the knife that shaped your schizophrenia to drive itself across your jugular vein. 
You've been shredding your skin, and now your internal spirit has been exposed, vulnerable at the ready... watches through quivering glass as the brick comes flying.
You can hear her voice. Christ, you can smell the coffee on her breath and she is at least two meters away. 

I can't deal... but my deal is still standing, isn't it?

It's a powerful radiation poisoning. Oh hell, the black clothes, so that she is alienated from the crowd but only you can see her.
She knows you're uncomfortable, and its what she pleasures herself to. 
Does she apply the same pressure as you, when the bugs invade and search your scalp and you claw furiously at the cockroaches hidden within the dark and dusty depths of your distant mind?
As dark as the cloth she bears, so that she is alienated from the crowd.
Once again, only you can see her.
Does she really move with deliberate, knowing, distasteful and intimidating movement?
Or does she move like that of the fluid, confident and responsible grace that deceived you in the first place?
And now she's laughing. 
Not with her perfectly-shaped and pouted lips, but with her yellow-hazel desert eyes, hot; and strong enough to burn holes in your unstable exterior of a shell and make you writhe.

And, um....
She still watches me.

This time she laughs with her mouth. It's inside AND out, and she does not hesitate to present her flawless, porcelain-white teeth. 

I don't even dare to look at and drown in her yellow-hazel eyes like quicksand; so easily lost in them.

How could you let an Infected in??

Reviews

[Guerlain]

Gosh, I rather like this. And yet, the effect it had can't really be articulated. The deal is intriguing, it almost sounds like a deal with the devil (or at least, a devil woman!).

[MoriartyMesa]

The opening is like slamming your hand in a freezer, it hurts but damn it it wakes the reader up. And than the writing trickles down to a tease, laugh than quick jab to the throat.


Nice job.