direct deposit

a man walked around for days. his head was like an aquarium full of violence, but mostly indecision. the water a simply subtle grey. the denizens of his aquatic mind were creatures designed for destruction the all, chiten blades extended from every possible surface. they roamed, they fought.

his days took him to all sorts of people. he met a new one every not so often, and immediatly drained them for all they were worth. to him, casual aquaintances were of no use. he loved like a stripmine.

he took everything he could, feeding the predators in his head. not that it was what he wanted, it was just an apparatus of his world, the way things worked. he wished to stop it, but could not.

the women didnt see it much differently. a terrible process. the wise evaded, the unlucky fell victim. stripped of their love for him. that was all he was taking. the demands, oh those incessant demands. and the life they must lead after, or without.

but the man was forced to observe the process, watching the destruction of himself, unable to stop it. the water churned and churned, vicious, vicious beasts. they would not be sated. they refused to offer the answers to the questions he proposed, this mind of his. the words didn't come, the man didn't speak, the world tumbled by, and he was lost.

so began the war to win himself. a trip to the department store furnished all he would need: a hammer. the end came swiftly. the glass cracked around the fracture, immediatly came the water, rushing into the air and forever down, down, down. as the water rushed, the glass gave way, piece by piece, jagged and sharp, and joined its late prisoner in the descent. the water was gone, except for a few drops, and there were no fish. the man dropped the hammer to the ground. disbelief. there was no process, there was only him. he was the process, he was the destruction. he loved like a stripmine.