Your Memes Are Just A Lie (Matt X Desi Fanfic)

Chater 14

My eyes open lightly, gently. I'm breathing. For another day. I don't even know if I'd have thought that possible a few weeks ago, but the world is full of surprises-shit I sound just like a fucking romcom. No cheesy inspirational phrases that are as obvious as Dora's closeted heterosexuality. As if on queue, my phone buzzes. I'm not gonna bother to explain it, you all know the drill.

Matt 5:30am

It goes, it goes, it goes, it goes
It goes, it goes, it goes, it goes
Guillotine - yah

Sit in the dark and ponder how I'm fit to make the bottom fall through the floor
And they all fall down - yah

It goes, it goes, it goes, it goes...
Guillotine - yah

Out of the shadows barrage of witch tongue
Cobra spit over apocalyptic cult killer cauldron smoke
Stomp music seriously - yah

It goes, it goes, it goes, it goes...
Guillotine - yah

Can't stop the groove lics jaws clear off them locks relentless raw movement
Fit to knock you from here to that g-spot body rock connected

To everything you want, ever did want
We got it why not come get it, stick your head in that hole
And watch me drop this cold guillotine death sentence - yah

It goes, it goes, it goes, it goes...
Guillotine - yah

Hidden art, between and beneath, every fragmented, figure of speech,
Tongue in reverse, whenever the beat, causes my jaws to call
Out out out out - yah

The screens flashing red, can't see shit but heads
Spinning exorcist like planets
Out of orbit off the edge
Off mine axis whipping through doors to far more than all that's ever been said - yah

Tie the chord kick the chair and you're dead - yah

Yah ... guillotine - yah ... guillotine - yah

Head of a trick in a bucket
Body of a trick in a bag
And thrown in the fire like fuck it
Gotta burn it before it goes bad
One too many times been disgusted
By the stench of rot is such a drag - yah

Get broke by the street like blood stained glass - yah
Choke on these nuts til the very last - yah

It goes, it goes, it goes, it goes...
Guillotine - yah

Serial number, killing machine
The illest of means,
To an end built on the filthy sound
you're experiencing - yah

It goes, it goes, it goes, it goes...
Guillotine - yah

Tinted windows, bulletproof
The slip knot fixin rope to noose
To the grave stone grinder of cold steel

The passion that blinds me so I feel - YAH

Can't let go, no it flows through our veins
Blows through our tunnels and rattles our chains
And they all fall down - yah  

5:32am

I know that there are no odds to fight for anymore and so I'm going to stop. I think that today's the last day I'm going to give you anything. It's just, I always thought we'd last longer than this. Feel free to move on if you want. It's not an option available for me and I think you should take it for your sake.

"Good morning, Desi." Came a sleepy Benito. I was back to waking up early and getting up in the morning. He only had a pink thong on. Walking in, he was rubbing his eye like a cat.

"sup bitch," I grumbled, slightly embarrassed. I fumbled with a fork I was using to flip over bacon on the frying pan. Maybe if I didn't look over to at hehe wouldn't notice how dark green my face was going. There was no fucking way in this miserable shitcrater of a biome-sphere planet anyone here is going to find out what my blood color is.

"Wait, are you making breakfast?" Benito questioned, taking a deep yawn midsentence. I'd always pinned Benito down as the 'look-at-me-i-can-be-up-and-smiling-instantly' type in the mornings. I guess it took a while for him to adjust.

"No, I'm making dinner. Your ridiculous human body forced itself to fall into a deep slumber and now you've woken up. It's been a week." I shoot back.

"That would make a good book sometime." Was he really so tired that he didn't care to reply properly?

Pastery Raphadilla, a usually unseen person up until around 8:30 AM, starts moving into the kitchen in his red, white, and green kimono. He's already put on the bases for his makeup - just some foundation for the mornings. I bet he wakes up with bags under his eyes he forces away with makeup. He'd never let us see him in any state other than 'fashionably ready'. Well, they'd seen me in every kind of state now.