the meeting

img_20160930_204604I never thought that we would bleed again so profusely, so much blood, each stroke down, a little more in control, each stroke up, the words a little rounder than before, the blood spurts like a small spring from the hot center of our earths. You are there, with your burnt, charred body melting into the blood. I sit across from you, my blood mixing with yours, and we wait for help to come. Each breath down, a little more shaky, each breath up, a little more painful than before.
We sit across from each other in the meeting room. There is a challenge in your eyes, you’ve just presented an Awesome New Thing, and you defy me to prove you wrong.
There’s so much blood between us, we can’t stop now, and we wait for help, to show that we care about each other, and we can’t go on alone, with just us anymore.
There’s a furious look in my eyes, and a smile on my lips, I toss back my head and rise to your challenge, crying for your blood, now.
I up the attack and scratch your Awesome New Thing to pieces, and make you sit there looking like you are about to cry.
Then you yell, politely, in low muted tones, how fallacious I am, how indiscreet and illogical I am with my blood, how it’s not worth being laid out on the meeting table in jars and jugs in the way I had done. It’s all very civilized, you know, but the bloods still begging to be one-upped, bettered, and rebutted.
So you do, cutting burning yourself with words, spilling all over the place until you are burnt and melting, with your oh-so-civilized rebuttals. “I’ve got you now.” I’ve got you now.
Only it doesn’t matter anymore, and we wait for help.
“Good debate, both of you. May I say you really have a connection? That’s it for today. Meeting closed.”

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About theshadowsofthenight

An amateur writer and amateur artist :)
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