Putting The Dog To Sleep
the middle ground
A
November was a blur of strong handshakes and tight smiles and Morrissey's ignorance was seeping into your aching bones. You couldn't look at him, not anymore, because there was something fragile in his already broken eyes, something that was left unsaid at the end of October during the haunted funeral, and something that flew away with the fog of his breaths and terrified you.
Your pillow was cold and lonely when you traced the paling dimple on it; your only memory, only proof of him, as Morrissey was fading away; hungry, vicious monsters conquering his mind and heart.
B
They said that he was broken, yet his bones were as skinny and as sharp as before, but perhaps they were right; his days blurred and haunted fever dreams.
They took him away and he hid underneath white bed, laid on the white floor, clad in white hospital gown his back pressed tightly to white cold walls, washed out and slowly fading away, forgotten unloved and unwanted, just a ghost, hungry lonely ghost. Inhale... Exhale. They said that he was broken, yet he was dead and trapped, sleeping with his heart pressed to the exit door.
C
When you came for a visit his knees rattled loudly and his mouth was spitting out empty smiles instead of trembling words. His head was so close to yours, warm breath whispering on pale eyelashes and you could feel his cold fingertips lingering on wet cheeks. His legs were sticking out no matter how tightly he tried to curl in on himself and he looked too awkward too old for this place.
He wrote on your arms, told you that it was not safe to breathe, that he was drowning, that the room never stayed quiet and that he felt just like a ghost.
Those pills were destroying him and you couldn‘t help. So when you stood up to leave there was too much elbow space around your skeleton, too many unspoken glass shards stuck in soar gullet and perhaps too much affliction in the uncertain smile, but it was easier to drift away than continue to watch him die.
D
You took him home on the 17th of December.
His hair was graying, and you starred at his shuddering chest, when he sat right beside you, with her ghost pooling behind you like a traitorous shadow. And when you tried to ask him, what was wrong, he just turned away, his hunched form curling on itself even more.
You breathed out the urge to reach out and fix him. Outstretched hand froze in the air, as your life slipped out with a wretched sigh. And you silently watched as he shrunk, his sharp elbows and protruding knees, drowning inside of too big clothes. It seemed as if he was going trough puberty again,only backwards, his holey knees and bony fingers as awkward as they were when he was still fourteen. You were supposed to save him, however only averted your gaze. You missed him.
E
When the first creature crawled out and Morrissey broke all of the Christmas decorations you left him. His bony knees drowned in glass shards and blood while violent weeps and rabid shrieks seeped into the bitten flesh. Yet you stood with your back to the door and the key in your hand shook as wildly as your heart.
You couldn't, wouldn‘t stop pushing him away, not until his vocal chords stopped operating and he fell asleep on the untidy bedroom floor.
When he woke up he slapped you and you hit him back just as hard, with your hands, teeth and then lips and he let you use him brake him, because once in your life it was you who needed to be saved.
F
„Lets go on an adventure.“ He told you, when the medication worn off and you nodded blindly because he was already dragging you around, and you couldn't stop stumbling clumsily in the dark. He was mad, behind thin lips and tired eyes he was furious. He was slightly drunk, with rosy cheeks and glinting orbs. He was ugly... And you? You were bent, broken, a little bit out of your mind, but with him. And when he threw you onto his bike, you just gripped cold handle bars tighter, gripped them until your knuckles split.
G
It was past midnight, when you cycled through the sleeping town, racing with dim light of streetlamps, that flooded gloomy alleyways and winding roads.
Morrissey‘s heart shaped chest pulsed with energy, his feet trying to stomp pedals into the ground, while your bones rattled with joy, when the snowy pathway rasped beneath two wheels. You were going too fast, the sharp turn on next street thrillingly close, though Morrissey refused to slow down.
His twiggy hands released the handle bars, sudden turning point almost there... And then you crashed, then you tumbled down and learned how to fly. With eyes so wild and soundless screams you toppled over, you fell, merging with the ground.
H
You screamed into your wrist, muffling the unbearable agony; your thumb was broken and Morrissey laughed like a maniac, when he saw the misplaced bone, his split lip and eyebrow twinkling in the dark. It was far too cold in December, far too quiet. And so you laid side by side, breathing in freezing air and holding it down in aching birdcages. And so you lived, so you did.
I
Morriseey buried his icy nose in the crook of your neck; you thought that he was so close, yet he was too far away; his serene breaths and empty face living in your growing heart. You saw marks of countless sleepless nights behind his flickering eyelids and your bony wrist found its way into the warm mouth, as he fell asleep alone tonight.
For a long time you stared at him, at the boy, who breathed crooked beauty, wearing his too big shoes, who laughed, when everybody cried and cried when everybody laughed, at the ghost, who was as thin as moonlight and as beautiful as childhood , at the teenager, that had stars in his hair and whole world on his back. You looked at him and softly wept in to the chilly December night, because you loved him so much, that it hurt, you loved him blindly and this boy was going to break you. Yet you couldn't stop because he was ugly and warm and there was no saving you.
November was a blur of strong handshakes and tight smiles and Morrissey's ignorance was seeping into your aching bones. You couldn't look at him, not anymore, because there was something fragile in his already broken eyes, something that was left unsaid at the end of October during the haunted funeral, and something that flew away with the fog of his breaths and terrified you.
Your pillow was cold and lonely when you traced the paling dimple on it; your only memory, only proof of him, as Morrissey was fading away; hungry, vicious monsters conquering his mind and heart.
B
They said that he was broken, yet his bones were as skinny and as sharp as before, but perhaps they were right; his days blurred and haunted fever dreams.
They took him away and he hid underneath white bed, laid on the white floor, clad in white hospital gown his back pressed tightly to white cold walls, washed out and slowly fading away, forgotten unloved and unwanted, just a ghost, hungry lonely ghost. Inhale... Exhale. They said that he was broken, yet he was dead and trapped, sleeping with his heart pressed to the exit door.
C
When you came for a visit his knees rattled loudly and his mouth was spitting out empty smiles instead of trembling words. His head was so close to yours, warm breath whispering on pale eyelashes and you could feel his cold fingertips lingering on wet cheeks. His legs were sticking out no matter how tightly he tried to curl in on himself and he looked too awkward too old for this place.
He wrote on your arms, told you that it was not safe to breathe, that he was drowning, that the room never stayed quiet and that he felt just like a ghost.
Those pills were destroying him and you couldn‘t help. So when you stood up to leave there was too much elbow space around your skeleton, too many unspoken glass shards stuck in soar gullet and perhaps too much affliction in the uncertain smile, but it was easier to drift away than continue to watch him die.
D
You took him home on the 17th of December.
His hair was graying, and you starred at his shuddering chest, when he sat right beside you, with her ghost pooling behind you like a traitorous shadow. And when you tried to ask him, what was wrong, he just turned away, his hunched form curling on itself even more.
You breathed out the urge to reach out and fix him. Outstretched hand froze in the air, as your life slipped out with a wretched sigh. And you silently watched as he shrunk, his sharp elbows and protruding knees, drowning inside of too big clothes. It seemed as if he was going trough puberty again,only backwards, his holey knees and bony fingers as awkward as they were when he was still fourteen. You were supposed to save him, however only averted your gaze. You missed him.
E
When the first creature crawled out and Morrissey broke all of the Christmas decorations you left him. His bony knees drowned in glass shards and blood while violent weeps and rabid shrieks seeped into the bitten flesh. Yet you stood with your back to the door and the key in your hand shook as wildly as your heart.
You couldn't, wouldn‘t stop pushing him away, not until his vocal chords stopped operating and he fell asleep on the untidy bedroom floor.
When he woke up he slapped you and you hit him back just as hard, with your hands, teeth and then lips and he let you use him brake him, because once in your life it was you who needed to be saved.
F
„Lets go on an adventure.“ He told you, when the medication worn off and you nodded blindly because he was already dragging you around, and you couldn't stop stumbling clumsily in the dark. He was mad, behind thin lips and tired eyes he was furious. He was slightly drunk, with rosy cheeks and glinting orbs. He was ugly... And you? You were bent, broken, a little bit out of your mind, but with him. And when he threw you onto his bike, you just gripped cold handle bars tighter, gripped them until your knuckles split.
G
It was past midnight, when you cycled through the sleeping town, racing with dim light of streetlamps, that flooded gloomy alleyways and winding roads.
Morrissey‘s heart shaped chest pulsed with energy, his feet trying to stomp pedals into the ground, while your bones rattled with joy, when the snowy pathway rasped beneath two wheels. You were going too fast, the sharp turn on next street thrillingly close, though Morrissey refused to slow down.
His twiggy hands released the handle bars, sudden turning point almost there... And then you crashed, then you tumbled down and learned how to fly. With eyes so wild and soundless screams you toppled over, you fell, merging with the ground.
H
You screamed into your wrist, muffling the unbearable agony; your thumb was broken and Morrissey laughed like a maniac, when he saw the misplaced bone, his split lip and eyebrow twinkling in the dark. It was far too cold in December, far too quiet. And so you laid side by side, breathing in freezing air and holding it down in aching birdcages. And so you lived, so you did.
I
Morriseey buried his icy nose in the crook of your neck; you thought that he was so close, yet he was too far away; his serene breaths and empty face living in your growing heart. You saw marks of countless sleepless nights behind his flickering eyelids and your bony wrist found its way into the warm mouth, as he fell asleep alone tonight.
For a long time you stared at him, at the boy, who breathed crooked beauty, wearing his too big shoes, who laughed, when everybody cried and cried when everybody laughed, at the ghost, who was as thin as moonlight and as beautiful as childhood , at the teenager, that had stars in his hair and whole world on his back. You looked at him and softly wept in to the chilly December night, because you loved him so much, that it hurt, you loved him blindly and this boy was going to break you. Yet you couldn't stop because he was ugly and warm and there was no saving you.