R.E.D.M.
When love, love will tear us apart
When routine bites hard, and ambitions are low
Robert Edward Digorno McCracken sat at his kitchen table, and watched the waning time. He couldn't sleep due to chronic insomnia; instead of tossing and turning in his bed, he settled on doing something he hasn't done in a while- eat. McCracken had found a nearly lost-to-frost pizza in the bottom of his freezer. Presumably, it was the only thing edible.
And resentment rides high, but emotions won't grow
Robert was unsettled by his lack of sleep in the recent weeks. It gave him an auxiliary amount of time to ponder his thoughts. The only thing to contemplate that night was either the pizza, or Kristin. Kristin Angela Kirsch, the girl of Bert's dreams. Well, who he thought was the girl he dreamed would be the immaculate member of the female sex for him.
And we're changing our ways, taking different roads
It was March 21st, when Kristin had met Bert. It was cliche for lovers to meet at a wedding. It was his brother's wedding, it was her cousins. They sat in opposite pews, stealing glances across the aisle. After the ceremony, was a note-worthy conversation. Words that are known to bring upon magic. They were in love for seven or so months (who kept track of those things?).
Love, love will tear us apart again
What went wrong between them, I'm only sure that she knows. Bert didn't, couldn't know. He tried and tried to find his fault. He did everything for her, she was his heart. More than that, his life, his universe. He's dying without her. He wished she could suffer too. He wanted her to know what it was like for him. She needed to know what life was like after her. He went to go find pants.
Why is the bedroom so cold? Turned away on your side.
Bert stood with his back to his apartment door, he put up his hood, casting his face in a cimmerian glow. He lit his cigarette, and strolled forward his key hand extended. The other procuring a bulge in his pocket. His gloves squeaked when he turned the key, and the engine hollowly roared to life. He began to drive.
Is my timing that flawed, our respect runs so dry?
He loomed over her, watching her chest rise and fall with every breath she took. She stirred. He panicked, and dragooned her with her bedside lamp. She looked peaceful, his sadistic mind thought.
Yet there's still this appeal, that we've kept through our lives
Kristin struggled to get her eyes to adjust to the dim light. All of a sudden searing pain erupted from her head. She went to move her hand to her head, and found she couldn't. There was something warm pressing against her body, something breathing. Her eyes never adjusted more than to find that they were covered by a...bandana? Her wrists were bound together with duct tape. Her arms were latched around a person, maybe. Her ankles were taped together so tight they cut into her skin. Nestled between her breasts was the muzzle of a gun.
Love, love will tear us apart again
“Shh, don't say a word.” Robert cooed as he stroked her hair. A small whimper escaped her lips. How could he do this to her? What exactly was he going to do? There was a jerk against her bodice, and she heard a knife flick open. “Do you know where it hurts?” he snarled, the knife held to Kristin's collarbone, “everywhere.” The joker was out to play. Swiftly the knife cut a v-shape across her chest. She cried out in pain; It felt good for Bert.
Do you cry out in your sleep? All my feelings exposed.
Over two hours, all he could do was ramble incoherently, shaking. Her body cold and lifeless, covered in lacerations. The roundish wounds on each side of her body mutilated and dripping. He still heard her speaking, he could hear her screams.
Get a taste in my mouth, as desperation takes hold
His phone buzzed in his jeans pocket. He looked at the caller ID, “Almond”. It was Quinn. He took in a ragged breath, trying to calm himself; No avail, tears started to flow. He put the phone to his ear.
Is it something so good, just can't function no more?
All Quinn could make out on the other side was- “I killed her, I killed her...I killed her, I killed her...” It was Bert sobbing, it was Bert confessing. He didn't know what to do, he didn't want to comfort him.
Love, love will tear us apart again
Robert Edward Digorno McCracken sat at his kitchen table, and watched the waning time. He couldn't sleep due to chronic insomnia; instead of tossing and turning in his bed, he settled on doing something he hasn't done in a while- eat. McCracken had found a nearly lost-to-frost pizza in the bottom of his freezer. Presumably, it was the only thing edible.
And resentment rides high, but emotions won't grow
Robert was unsettled by his lack of sleep in the recent weeks. It gave him an auxiliary amount of time to ponder his thoughts. The only thing to contemplate that night was either the pizza, or Kristin. Kristin Angela Kirsch, the girl of Bert's dreams. Well, who he thought was the girl he dreamed would be the immaculate member of the female sex for him.
And we're changing our ways, taking different roads
It was March 21st, when Kristin had met Bert. It was cliche for lovers to meet at a wedding. It was his brother's wedding, it was her cousins. They sat in opposite pews, stealing glances across the aisle. After the ceremony, was a note-worthy conversation. Words that are known to bring upon magic. They were in love for seven or so months (who kept track of those things?).
Love, love will tear us apart again
What went wrong between them, I'm only sure that she knows. Bert didn't, couldn't know. He tried and tried to find his fault. He did everything for her, she was his heart. More than that, his life, his universe. He's dying without her. He wished she could suffer too. He wanted her to know what it was like for him. She needed to know what life was like after her. He went to go find pants.
Why is the bedroom so cold? Turned away on your side.
Bert stood with his back to his apartment door, he put up his hood, casting his face in a cimmerian glow. He lit his cigarette, and strolled forward his key hand extended. The other procuring a bulge in his pocket. His gloves squeaked when he turned the key, and the engine hollowly roared to life. He began to drive.
Is my timing that flawed, our respect runs so dry?
He loomed over her, watching her chest rise and fall with every breath she took. She stirred. He panicked, and dragooned her with her bedside lamp. She looked peaceful, his sadistic mind thought.
Yet there's still this appeal, that we've kept through our lives
Kristin struggled to get her eyes to adjust to the dim light. All of a sudden searing pain erupted from her head. She went to move her hand to her head, and found she couldn't. There was something warm pressing against her body, something breathing. Her eyes never adjusted more than to find that they were covered by a...bandana? Her wrists were bound together with duct tape. Her arms were latched around a person, maybe. Her ankles were taped together so tight they cut into her skin. Nestled between her breasts was the muzzle of a gun.
Love, love will tear us apart again
“Shh, don't say a word.” Robert cooed as he stroked her hair. A small whimper escaped her lips. How could he do this to her? What exactly was he going to do? There was a jerk against her bodice, and she heard a knife flick open. “Do you know where it hurts?” he snarled, the knife held to Kristin's collarbone, “everywhere.” The joker was out to play. Swiftly the knife cut a v-shape across her chest. She cried out in pain; It felt good for Bert.
Do you cry out in your sleep? All my feelings exposed.
Over two hours, all he could do was ramble incoherently, shaking. Her body cold and lifeless, covered in lacerations. The roundish wounds on each side of her body mutilated and dripping. He still heard her speaking, he could hear her screams.
Get a taste in my mouth, as desperation takes hold
His phone buzzed in his jeans pocket. He looked at the caller ID, “Almond”. It was Quinn. He took in a ragged breath, trying to calm himself; No avail, tears started to flow. He put the phone to his ear.
Is it something so good, just can't function no more?
All Quinn could make out on the other side was- “I killed her, I killed her...I killed her, I killed her...” It was Bert sobbing, it was Bert confessing. He didn't know what to do, he didn't want to comfort him.
Love, love will tear us apart again