When Passion Takes Control
What is this I feel?
Why do I fall for it every time?
Why do I believe each and every line?
Why do you do me this way twenty-four seven?
Day becomes night to rise to another day,
but each new day feels like yesterday's passed,
leaving me in a shroud of a constant love-hate.
I hate that I love you beyond the span of life,
I hate that I miss you with each breath I take,
I hate this feeling that draws me ever closer to you.
I can't rid my thoughts of you beyond mere seconds.
I find myself caught in this maelstrom of passion's love.
I am bound to you like a noose around my throat.
I will never be the same person before I met you.
The truth is: I love that I hate you, with a passion.
Addict in an Attic
The addict sits, balled up in a corner somewhere
like a discarded napkin at a trucker ribs restaurant
off the highway...
He doesn't know where the fuck he is,
(Though it might be an old friends' attic of a house
that was long since vacated...
...or a dingy jail cell...
or his rich punk rock friend Fecus's basement
in an attempt to further piss off his folks...)
whatever the case, George has nothing
but the spent needle in his crusty jeans
to hold on to, and make
his reality solid...
He drags the pointed Devil out
into the light that's spilling
lazily from the window to his left...
Like the dust particles fish-tailing madly about in the air,
George feels the ghost of his once razor sharp
ambition
banging against his chest for release!...
His eyes bulge further from his scalp,
as he erects himself
into a normal seated position.
"I love that I hate you!"
He screams in a squeaky voice at the syringe
with it's pointed cap...
For a brief second he thinks of the years of sobriety squandered;
the countless lies and false promises he told
family members and friends
about cleaning up his act;
the money put into rehabilitation clinics;
and then in the next moment he's dusted the rat droppings off his shirt,
and he's back on the hunt...
...He's busted through a window on the ground level
of this tenement of depair,
and surfaces back out into the blinding light...
...Itching to rip off the next sucker he can find
so he can shoot his vein full of holes!...
Ready or not,
here he comes!...
...From sunrise to twilight
this is YOUR life!...
©
9/03/20
Bunny Villaire
Kingmaker
They took their seats around the small, hand-me-down kitchen table. The board had been set up neatly in the center, cards dealt, pieces placed.
Peter sat next to Judy, who stared intently at her hand. “You remember how to play, right?”
“It hasn’t been that long.”
“Alright. Just ask me if you have any questions.”
“The rules are right there.” She quipped tersely.
“Does anybody want something to drink before we start?” Oscar offered, smiling.
“I’ll have some wine,” Brenda piped up quickly.
“Sure, me too.” Peter sorted his cards out in his hand, thinking through his strategy.
Judy sat quietly for a beat, then “Can I get some water?”
“Coming right up!” Oscar headed into the kitchen, returning shortly with drinks and a bowl of Chex Mix.
As he sat next to Brenda, he scooched his chair closer and gave her a peck on the cheek. Quietly they both arranged their cards, moving them left and right across their hands. Every so often Brenda would lean over and whisper questions in Oscar’s ear. A power couple since college, Peter had played many, many games against these two over the years. Finally, though, he had his own partner to play with.
Leaning conspiratorily towards Judy, he whispered, “Be careful - Brenda’s a kingmaker.”
Judy frowned. “A what?”
“A kingmaker - she’ll help Oscar win.” He winked. “But we can offset that.”
“Oh, can we.” Judy’s expression was unreadable. She continued to look at her cards, not saying another word.
“Shall we start?” Oscar asked the table. They all nodded, and their pieces began to play.
--------------------------------
“Hey, Peter, can I trade you for one of your sheep?” Brenda asked, biting her lip as her gaze moved from her hand to the cheatsheet in front of her.
“Sure,” Peter smiled. “What are you offering?”
“I’ll give you a sheep.” Judy suddenly piped up.
Peter frowned. “Brenda asked me first.”
“Brenda doesn’t want to trade with you. She wants to trade with me.” Judy looked over at Brenda. “I’ll give you the one I have in my hand right now, and the next one I get on an upcoming roll.”
“Ooh,” said Brenda, “sounds good. What do you want in return?”
“Don’t trade with Peter anymore.”
The table fell quiet as all eyes focused on Judy. She sat calmly, cards in hand.
“Wait, what?”
“When you trade with Peter it only helps him win. I’ll give you what you want, with extra, but only if you stop trading with Peter.” Judy folded her hands and cards on her lap.
Oscar watched Peter’s jaw drop, and laughed nervously. “That seems a little harsh.”
“No it’s not,” Judy argued. “Peter’s won every game we’ve played so far. I’d like him to lose.”
The table fell quiet again, as Brenda and Oscar exchanged worried looks and Peter stared at Judy like she’d slapped him across the face.
“But why?” Peter protested. “I haven’t done anything to you!”
She shrugged. “I’m tired of watching you win. It’s boring.”
Brenda smiled knowingly. “Alright. I won’t trade with Peter anymore, and I’ll take your sheep and the next sheep you roll.” She handed her card over, and Judy completed the trade as Peter sulked. Once finished, he leaned over to Judy to hiss in her ear.
“She’s just going to trade that extra sheep to Oscar! What are you doing?”
“Stopping you.”
“But how does this help your strategy if they work together?”
“I don’t care who wins, so long as it’s not you.” Judy’s gaze was clear and determined.
An arrow pierced through Peter’s heart. Sullen, he turned away from her and eyed the board, trying to figure out his next move.
“Hey,” Oscar piped up, “If I refuse to trade with Peter can I get some extra cards off you?”
“Sure,” Judy replied smoothly, picking up the dice to roll it.
Peter drummed his fingers, irritated, as she drew her cards and proceed to take her turn.
Betrayer he thought bitterly.
------------------------------
Judy threw her hand down and howled, “NO!”
Brenda and Oscar, now on their third glasses of wine, sleepily shook their heads as they placed their own cards down on the table. “He won again.” Oscar lamented. “Well, we all tried.”
Judy stared at the board, seething, recounting every token. “But we took longest road! And largest army! How could you still get more victory points before us?”
Exhausted, Peter glared at his so-called partner. “After you denied me any trades whatsoever, blocked my pathway - twice - and put the thief on me I just stuck to the coastlines and made my trades there.” He started the process of clean-up, putting away the cards and the pieces into the box as Judy sank down in defeat.
“I thought we finally had you,” she muttered, dejected. She’d not had a single drop of alcohol all evening. Peter wondered if she’d thought to try and gain an edge as the only sober person at the table. Unluckily for Judy, Peter not only had excellent gaming strategy but a high alcohol tolerance as well.
“Well I’m heading to bed,” he declared, placing the lid on the box and stretching. “If someone’s still willing to go with me?” Daggers pierced Judy’s back, not that she seemed to notice or care.
“Fine,” she sighed. “Maybe we can try again tomorrow.” She rose and took her glass to the sink, as Brenda and Oscar got up and hugged each other before yawning and excusing themselves for the night.
“If you guys need any extra blankets there’s some in the hall closet,” Brenda reminded them as they said goodnight.
Pieces put away, Peter and Judy walked down the hall to the guest room where Peter closed the door behind them. He folded his arms.
“What did I do?”
“Do?”
“Yes - to tick you off.”
Blinking, her expression turned innocent. “Nothing. I just wanted to see someone else win for a change.”
“So you turn the entire table against me?” Peter objected, waving his arms. “Brenda already helps Oscar out any chance she gets - I didn’t need my own girlfriend turning on me too!”
Crossing her own arms, Judy shot him a look. “You still won, right?”
“No thanks to you!”
“Exactly.” Judy smirked. “I made you play harder. Smarter. Where’s the fun in throwing in together?”
Peter stared at her, stupefied. “I thought you hated me.”
“I still love you.” Moving forward she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a reassuring kiss. “Just not in game. Besides, you don’t want me to make the game easy for you, do you?”
"No, but I thought I'd at least have someone else helping to take Oscar down."
"Why? You managed to take all three of us down on your own. It's actually pretty impressive, even if I'm still mad at you."
Peter held her, searching her dark eyes for signs of deceit. “I suppose it was more of a challenge this time.”
“See? There’s my ruthless strategist.” She gave him another kiss.
“Can you maybe be a bit nicer about it next time though? Like, try not to openly bribe everyone to pick on me?”
She mused, “I suppose I could wait till you make a wine run in the kitchen to secretly conspire against you.”
He slid his arms around her shoulders. “Or you know,” he offered, “I could help you win next time. Try a queenmaker strategy?”
“Oh hell no.” She pushed away, her expression determined again. “You pull that crap, Peter, and I swear I will flip the board.”
Grinning, Peter chuckled and pulled her back towards him. “I love that you hate me in game.”
“I love that I hate you too.” She admitted. "Now, hurry up and crawl in so we can wake up early. We could get another game in tomorrow before we drive home."
"Yes, my queen."
"Boy - I will burn your board."
"Yes, my love."
They turned out the light.
Fire-side chats
The soft light of the fire danced as my eyelids fluttered closed, sinking into a short sleep.
I jolted awake as I heard footsteps approaching me from behind.
“Why are you up so late?” he asked with concern, walking around the couch to face me, “or rather, why are you asleep in the commonroom?” he chuckled softly as he saw me, obviously startled.
“I was trying to get some work done,” I muttered sleepily, staring back at the words on the page. Each letter started to flutter above the off-white parchment, playfully dancing in the air. Wait, I thought, did someone put a charm on this book? I squinted my eyes to focus on the page and the letters slid back, settling down where they belonged.
He looked at me curiously, “yeah, I can see that’s going well,” he said as he picked up the book off of my lap.
I pushed myself up into a seated postion on the cloud-like couch, yawning quite obnoxiously and streching my arms out to the ends of the Earth.
The left side of his mouth turned up as he closed the book, “ah History of Magic. I can see why you were sleeping. You really shouldn’t be reading this so late at night, it’s like you’re trying to fall asleep.” His chesnut eyes peered up at me through his thick eyelashes.
“Yeah well I left it until last minute so I didn’t have much of a choice,” I shared his smile and gracefully held out my hands as he handed the book back to me.
“You should get to bed,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Oh and what about you. Why are you awake at... um what time is it?” I looked around for a clock.
He pullled out his wand, turning my textbook into a gold-framed pocketwatch with vine-like ingravings. “There. Now it’s actually useful,” he said with a snicker.
“Ha ha,” I said in a sarcastic tone, looking down at the time to be met with surprise "2:30 am!” I exclaimed, “I thought I had only just fallen asleep.”
“Obviously not,” his eyebrows raised, “maybe you should actually keep it that way,” he nodded towards the watch in my hands.
I smiled sleepishly, putting my hands on my knees as I stood up. I held out my hands, holding the reflective pocket-watch in them.
“Now change it back so I can study.”
“No. You need to go to bed,” his eyes glittered mischeviously against the velvety orange flames of the fire, "besides, you don't have anything to study."
I took a step towards him, staring him down, knowing he was the only chance I had to change it back as I was quite terrible at transfiguration.
“I said now!” I was starting to get annoyed, "I really need to know this stuff before my O.W.L.S. tomorrow."
“What you need is a good night’s rest.” He started to walk away as if it was the end of the conversation.
“Ugh you can be so stubborn,” I sighed, giving in.
“You love that about me, admit it”
“No, I love... that I hate you.”
And with that, his tall frame glided away up the stairs and into the shadows.
(this is my first attempt at fanfiction and idk how to feel haha. oh well, at least I wrote something today. hope you enjoyed!)
Because You Made Me Say Goodbye
Who says one soul cannot change all the world
You made it change for me
Vague stories and the implied of your leaving
Haunt imagination of all I could not see
Because you made me say Goodbye
You stopped the world for you, you got to see it end
But it could not be so for me
How dare you heavy the wretched crawl of time
Did you know it would be this way when you leave
Because you made me say Goodbye
The only time I know where dreams are false
Is when you are with me smiling your damned smile
Then the pastel hues wash into nothing buy grey
I awaken with eyes full of tears, body cramped with bile
Because you made me say Goodbye
I know the smoke and shadow that haunted you
Your truth became warped with its lies
I wish you could have seen the false in the black
I wish you could see you through my eyes
But you never will
Because you made me say Goodbye
Now I’m left alone with unreachable hurt
And I love that I hate you
The hurt means I still care, that you are still there
Deep in my heart in the place still in pain
So I guess you’re never really gone
Though you made me say Goodbye
@chainedinshadow
Nemesis
I love you.
Your existence completes me, sir -
you make it all too easy
to hate you
It is child’s play to heap
curses upon you, to call
you execrable unworthy
Without you I would be lost
no target for my frustration
Your mannerisms grate on the very nerve
the very last, if I tell true
you smirk and slander and simper
your words ring false and hollow
the choices you make
the friends you fake
your apparent lack of a moral compass
make me despair the fate of humanity.
Oh, sir, truly you are unique
one of a kind in all the world
for me at least
So easy to hate, so fulfilling
knowing my loathing is directed
at something as disgusting as yourself.
Were I not so nauseated by your existence
I might marvel at it.
Instead I delight in the blame
how facile to pin it to you.
This is not a compliment, sir,
rather a letter of gravest insult
disparaging your hopes of existential salvation
as if there exists worthiness to cancel you
and return a net worthiness somehow zero
criticizing your personality
or lack thereof, one might say
if one was inclined to truth over tact
deprecating your very soul, damned as it may be
your unerring effortless embodiment
of all that is wrong with the world;
this letter is not a sign of appreciation
as I would waste none upon your despicable being
as you rot all that you touch
so I invoke misfortune on your ventures
urge karma smite at my behest
that it might wipe you from memory
and I curse every aggravating fiber of your being
you, that antimatter for all that is good
almost too easy a target for my scorn
although if you permit me, might I add
I would have it no other way
The Big S
My dear hoebag, we meet again. As if once weren't enough, you've descended upon yet another English class and thrown us all into melancholy. Yoi do knoe that everyone hates you. You spent your life dick-riding royalty, so you could keep pumping out those hits. I respect your hustle, I do, but yiu have screwed yourself for many future generstions. If you ever come back, there will be a line of irritated freshmen with baseball bats waiting for you, and Hawthorne too. I actually have more qualms with him, but I've read more of your stuff so this is more personal, in a way.
I'm not going to lie, the nerd in me does really adore you. The ridiculousness of your plays is actually quite impressive. Two kids fucking once and deciding to get married and live happily ever aftee, but can't so they die? That's some shit if I've ever heard it. Little guy doesn't get a promotion so he vows to destroy his boss's life? Jesus, that sounds like a Friday night thriller show. Girls run away to the woods to do something (I skimmed it; it was senior year) still sounds like a marketable plot today.
I think we only hate you because of ye olde language. Everyone loves a good dick-n-balls joke but not when we have to google every word. "Thy scrotildum wath itchity for thine diddled with a tart." No one understands that. You're like the world's funniest Latin comedian. Everything you say is hilarious, but everyone who can understand it has been dust for ages. Except Betty White. It's an old joke and the Queen of England has most likely inherited the friendships your pole jocking created, so I'm not getting beheaded. In short, I love to hate you because it's popular. Just like shitting on the French was popular in your day (I read THAT loud and clear). There's trchnically nothing wrong with you, but when I blow a raspberry after your name, it gets a laugh so socially, there's apparently something wrong with you. I do appreciate the forced gayness though. If you'd written Mulan, that would've been your funniest play yet.
Sticks
Love is the evil that’s
born from my sins
Nights like this are the worst
I can’t tell what I’m craving for
Is it you
Or is it the feeling that I get
My heart rushes and skips a beat
I can’t believe I’m at your door
I hope you don’t answer
I want to be drenched in your smell,
your big arms, and hungry eyes
I love this feeling
Nothing matters
You don’t matter
Why won’t you open up?
Was I wrong to love?
Is it love?
I love that I hate you
I can’t look at you in the eyes anymore
Just seeing you makes me nauseous
When I think of you
I think of slugs,
empting and devouring a husk of decay
You took me down
I love you that the only way
Is to hate you
Just die already
