Gray sky, the color of television static. My car rolls to a slow stop. The stoplight lingers
overhead, godlike. Its blood-red passion penetrating my pupils.
I glance left, ...right.
No cars.
No pedestrians.
Beads of sweat appear on my forehead. I wonder why I'm alone, waiting.
A car creeps up beside me. The driver looks straight ahead as if I don't exist. I stare through
him.
Cars begin arriving from all directions. All stopping at the intersection like it's their golden
Mecca; none behind me. The light turns to blades of grass. Not my light, but the cars to my
right. The driver I stared intently at now parades his back bum
Fulfillment through Depravity by MistaBobby, literature
Literature
Fulfillment through Depravity
They call me crazy. I beg to differ. I'm sentenced to die only for their lack of understanding. So, here I sit day after day in this cold, lonely, dark jail-cell. Fed once daily, I'm slowly thinning away, still filled with the lust of my chosen delicacy and the hatred that was bred upon me. I don't know how long I've been here or how long I'll stay. No windows to the outside world are present to accompany me, only one diminutive hole near the top of the door shining in a small beam of light through from the prison corridor. I've grown somewhat accustomed to this new lifestyle of mine however bleak it may be in comparison to the stirring