Broken Reflections



On my walk through town, there was a dog chained to a lamppost outside a convenience store. He was a proud looking thing, and as he waited in anticipation of his owners return, I knelt down and proceeded to pat him on the head. Looking up at me, he smiled in his doggy way and energetically wagged his tail. He had human eyes, which reminded me of a kid I used to go to school with back in Chantry. Further down the street, people were removing their belongings from a fire-gutted house. I’d heard sirens the night before last, and this must’ve been what they were dealing with. At the time I thought it was a traffic accident and closed my window because it was disrupting my trail of thought in the middle of writing. I was most annoyed. Turning my attention away from the dog, there were a group of people removing items from the house, with one woman coming out carrying a small cage with a ginger cat inside. It was hissing and clawing at the woman’s arms causing her to curse. There was another cage with a rabbit in, and I wanted so much to take a photo but thought better of it. Wouldn’t have been very tasteful, somehow. Part of me wanted to untie the dog and run off with him- take him on an adventure someplace- just the two of us. But again, such actions would do me no favours. Leaving him behind, a rough looking couple came my way soon after. Right scummy-looking fucks they were. The guy snorted and spat not far from my feet while the ‘woman’ shouted into her phone while slicking back her receding hair. A few minutes later and the three of us were stood at a set of traffic lights together. Waiting for them to change, he kept eyeing me up and down while I imagined the two of them fucking. It was horrifying, yet perversely amusing nonetheless. I kept seeing his little white arse going up and down. Kept seeing his balls slapping her gash while he stuck his tongue into her mouth and wriggled it around without passion or emotion. When he looked at me one last time before the lights changed, I gave him a wry smile. The neanderthal didn’t know what to do with that and promptly limped off and followed his keeper. Within the hour I was far from the town, and although the day was grey it was warm and the heat burned away some of my lethargy. There were fields and trees and electricity and animals that evaded the gaze of my camera. I smoked three cigarettes and lost myself then came back with a devilish look in my eye. I felt sad yet elated. Beaten yet not crushed. Faithless yet full of light.

A Journal for Damned Lovers on

A Journal for Damned Lovers on

9 replies »

  1. It appears that scummy-looking fucks look as scummy-looking as they do with you, as they do here. I imagine they look that way worldwide. I wonder why receding hair is so prevalent amongst them…or why they find it necessary to shout into their phones, as if we (the audience – BRAVO!) will be impressed by their shoutiness?

    Thank you for the image. I am smiling. x

    • For them, there is no world outside of themselves. They’re so consumed by their own trivialities, they believe nothing else exists. They are the living empty.

      I’m glad you enjoyed my little existential rant πŸ˜‰ x

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