(the roughest draft ever)
(top of my head)
(muntaha all your fault)
those urges those moments in my mundane life. the times i am cheerfully snipping around with apair of scissors, a pause, when i feel like stabbing them in a socket, the blast, the sparks, the fireworks. the times while choping vegetables, a pause, how would the edge of this knife will feel on these blue nerved wrists of mine. imagined the warmth of the bright red blood rushin out in a flood then slowing down to a stream. the time when i stand at the footpath mesmerized by the cars zoomin by, a pause, how would it feel to be hit and then thrown like a ragged doll the sound of the cracking skull, crunching of the bones, sprawled on the concrete, the honking of the jam i could cause. the time when i am climbing stairs to the appartment my aunt lives in on the fifth floor, a pause, how would it feel if i climb the edge of the railing instead, the wind in my hair as i freefall and smack to the ground, the tangled body, the most beautiful gruesom sight i would create...