GuNNhead

I think about the pit. It’s always in my mind, somewhere. It’s where my love is. It’s where I keep it. Every so often, I take a peek, just to check up. It brings a smile to my face. Not many things do anymore. The pit is what counts, locked up safe and sound. When I shine light down there, I hear a chorus of angels. They call my name. Minkle. I think it suits me. The days I spend thinking of my loves, it makes the life I lived all worth it. I think of things to do, in the hole. It feels good. It’s filling, like a dinner for the soul.

In the night, I open up. I walk down the stairs. Admire. All so beautiful, all mine. My collection, it’s complete. I thought it never would be, but this one… this latest addition, so pure, such dedication to the craft. The walls are clean, pristine. I see to that. Filth accumulates, always accumulates. I touch and stroke each of my ensemble as I pass them. They all have their roles in my life. And they play them to perfection. It took years for me, but I am a perfectionist, I suppose. Love is something that takes hard work, to make work, I say. They feel it, my soul has been put fully into all of them.

Now, the newest one, the latest, the best, the youngest: I always wear my best suit for her. I made it for her. When the others see me in it, they know that I am making time for her first. Though, none are ever left in neglect. No, each gets their attentions in each of their own special ways. Once we are done, I exit her room. One of the oldest eyes me. I still want to play. He wants to play. We stay in the pit, with all the others, and play. I ask another to join. They do without question. They cannot question, it’s not in their nature. So pure. Such love.

A frothy mess. We clean up. I am soft. Moisturize. Smoothness is key to being me. Without it, I am not. I can’t speak of the games I play to anyone. They don’t play. They couldn’t, their minds are… wired wrong. But not my loves, not my love. No, this is the truest thing in the world. A fact of feeling. It can’t be taken away from me, I will always hold it inside of me, inside of them. They can try to take my loves away from me, like they used to, but not in the pit. It’s my secret. Even if they did, I would only find more love. I have a lot to give. They feel how large it is, they are the only ones, they understand me. I open myself to them, and they open themselves to me. We are inside of each other.

I walk back up the stairs, and close the door. It locks automatically. I’ll never be left alone again.

This entry was posted on April 6, 2011 at 3:33 am and is filed under Fiction. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.