fml up again

Packed tight into a hotel room on the 24th floor. Hollow eyes appeared in the mirror, a man ready for the fall. Daring it to take hold and carry him down the well.

Well? What are you waiting for? Go on, he all but outwardly goaded himself. Do it!

Trapped inside God’s elevator, jazz buzzed, beeped and slid.

Let you down one last time... So, you remember you were mine... Count on me... Be something you could never be... I’ll be free from all this hate and you’ll be left behind... carrying the weight. Come fuck my life up again... I don’t deserve to live without pain...

From the back of the room there is a flick of a lighter and the crackle of a cigarette catching its ember.

“You don’t need me to remind you who you are... Do you?”

Hollow eyes widened and the empty room fell quieter.

“Ha-ha-ha! Why the strange look my boy?”

King's music hummed in the background.

Destroy all my confidence again, watch me lose control and feel ashamed. Come fuck my life up again... The problem’s always me... it’s just taken years for me to see... You didn’t call again last night, maybe I’m just not worth the fight...

He reached for the bottle and took a swig, not craving the alcohol, but the pledge. The surrender to nothingness—that is what he longed for once more. For he was so close to it, heart on empty, he was so close to it. All it would take was a little tip, a slip and a slide, and he could submerge freely.

I swear to God you saved my life, I swear to God that I won’t let you down twice... Come fuck my life up again... I don’t deserve to live without pain... Destroy all my confidence again... Cut me down and let me feel ashamed...

Smoke bellowed around him as he watched the messages come in. He knew where the night was going, there was nothing they couldn’t do together.

"Happiness made me feel so damn weak... " He sang along, his voice trembled, King's conviction noticeably absent.

Deep in introspection, he thought back to his last love-lost, the ringing sense of inadequacy that accompanied him through its prime. How the calm tortured him, the plain existence, a double scoop of vanilla melting on a humid day along, he feared with that the grit, the edge, the passion, the pain, the life, it had all left him.

Hope you never let me go through the years... hope your madness starts to grow... Hope you never let me go through the years... hope your madness starts to show...

“Oh, it has Marcus,” he said with a devilish smile.

Four eyes became two and saw all. In the mind’s eye the path was clear, the outcome set.

The poor knight wept, for he was as weak as they told him he was.