ONE, TWO, CYCLEONE, TWOnow there's youagain?yes, no, maybeTHREE, FOURam I to start a war?will I?internallyFIVE, SIXmy feelings intermixnow Iam not so sureSEVEN, EIGHTmy heart just inflateseach timeI see both of youNINE, TENstart it againcyclethrough the pain
did he cry?thirty five stab woundsaccording to nicolausi don't even know who he wasbut i wonder if the great c a e s a r cried as he felljust as i cry nowi will count my own stab woundsand see if i measure upa task for another day
ii. Loveii. Love.He was doomed.Really, he was. He had irrational fears of car crashes, yet he drove one. Because it wasn't the fear or himself in the car crash... but rather a significant other.Two out of every three lovers die in one!And his recent one was in a coma because of one. They had barely met, but it was love at first sight. He loved the Canadian with the delectable accent that was harder to understand than his own. He would love him with all his might, and never let go, even if he died.He wouldn't become clingy, though oh, no. That'd be bad. He'd just be protective just keep the man under his wing. Out of love.He loves unconditionally.
i. Introductioni. Introduction.Let's not kill anyone today.It was the first thought he thought as he rolled out of his bed and took his shower and got dressed in a fancy coat and grabbed his keys and left for the hospital without breakfast. He thought it on his way to the café where he took his coffee black; he thought it as he entered the doors to the hospital; he thought it as he sterilized his hands; he thought it as he picked up the scalpel and made the first cut into the skin.He said it once he was done and moved onto the next patient.The hospital was his second home, and this was a mere introduction for a certain someone.