Chasing

I chased after him- hoping he’d look back and trip. His hair was frazzled, and the dark lighting made him stumble. For some reason, I let him get chased, though I was sure I could catch him. I stopped at corners and cynically laughed, also catching my breath, knowing I could go longer run and that his sweat would soon drain his contaminated self.

He stole my money. He used my kindness. He ducked my barriers. He never explained himself.

The hunt down was vital. All these years, I waited to get back for the falsehood he spew at me.

He pretended to care, tied my heart strings to his, but his heart was faulty, sauntering, naughty. and though he never meant much to me (or so I told myself) it hurt so bad.

He jumped over four stacked boxes of charcoal, spilling it on top of me. “Ah” he screamed, jumping higher and running faster away from me. The charcoal curled around my stomach, fashioning me in a whole new matte black. What style I had.

I used my new suit as armor from his touch as I approached his sorry ass. He use chains from his jeans to smack me in the face, slapping me in the face like a little bitch. Have you ever tasted copper? It was sort of like gingerbread to me, then. I grabbed the chains and he started to run. I was going to pull him back, but again, it was just so fun to watch him run. I chuckled again, hearing his a-rhythmic foot steps.

The blades in my eyes shot towards his glutes, keeping him moving. The bass in his steps told me I was about to win.

How curious what an actual chimp he was.

The lights went out and a couple gun shots fired. Me and him stopped. The cops?

I kept running to meet up with him and tackled him down. He looked relieved as if he pined to be laying on the floor in defeat. The smell in the air made me nauseous.

I let the charcoal from my new ensemble swing into his mouth as different body parts of mine kept down his. It was triumphant, but I was ready to go home.

I bit his neck and he kneed me in the ribs. He changed his position of power, top now but I crawled from under him. I poked his eyes with my knuckles. I thought I’d pop his eyeballs (but I hadn't) and I also spit on his chest. The next couple things I did are unspeakable. But let’s just say I don’t know if that stealer can have kids.

Rolling up, the air was warm and floating. My heart pounding down down down, like the ground, and gravity and earth.

I had to get this charcoal washed off.