pretty much seem to have grown up on an imagined past...

penultimate step

I am almost done with my life...take it away...

the final countdown

pulling the latch up, locking the hollow wooden door,
he drew the curtains on the only window,
and sat on the three legged chair,
pouring another peg of whiskey in his chipped glass,
staring lustfully at the young piece of flesh slithering on the rickety bed,
with hands tied above the head, nipples pointing out,
gagged and blindfolded

and she twisted and puffed vigorously,
each part of her body hurting enough to want to make her revisit the time gone by,
her wounds glistened in the dim yellow light of the bulb,
suspended from the ceiling by a loose wire,
her lips bled profusely,
staining in patterns the plain white sheet spread over the bed.

he smiled devilishly looking at her,
her helplessness satisfying his urge to humiliate her,
for her deeds, pathetically uncalled for,
every drop of her blood reminding him of her atrocious behaviour,
behaviour he had repeatedly warned her against.

she flapped her legs, exposing her vulnerabilities,
ignoring the battered piece of clothing that lay besides her,
hell bent on cutting lose,
tears rolled down her bloodshot eyes,
from the pain she wished she had never known.

they could now hear the footsteps outside,
faintly approaching towards their shack,
she went silent to catch every possible movement,
while he was prepared to keep up with his routine,
in hope to relieve her from the state of despair,
calculating silently the time he had left with him...