Lemonman wondered about the injustices of the world. He liked to think of these things. It made him happy. He sat on a bed of nailed broken polystyrene. He knew the fumes would only make him sick, but still he sat and pondered. Mincing, almost. His brain was too full of potent imagery to be mincing, Mincing being, as I understand it - to be doing nothing.
These injustices made him depressed but by wondering on them, he found it gave him a reason. He felt bored and lay down. The polystyrene crunched under his weight. He lay and gazed at the sky, a dark green sky. Between the clouds he saw spots of yellow - the sulphur in his coffee had started to work. Lemonman leant across
, over his clothes to grab the knife that lay by his book on nodules.
Taking the knife in one hand he drew a strip down his leg, creating a red stripe in the fatty flesh of his thigh. He always felt clean when blood letting and this was no exception. He felt fresh and new like the breeze had suddenly......
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Approximate Word Count: 926
Approximate Pages: 4 (260 words per double-spaced page) |