Madness.

5.

I stumbled down the lonesome desert street.

Drunk on the sun and cloudless sky.

He'd let me run for longer than I thought he would.

It was foolish of me to think he'd chase me. Me. A suicidal abdicated queen, with a phobia of Monte Carlo and name's that start with A.

I was not worth the chase. Even I would know that.

My bare feet burned on the scorching tar, making me wince with each step. I swayed tiresomely in the glaring sun. My tongue as dry as my sister's pussy and my throat as rough as a sheet of sandpaper.

I probably looked like a fool, stumbling 'round in Blue eyes' shirt, with my hair in two fuzzy cornrows.

Fuck it, though. There's not a soul I care for here, let alone a soul that cares for me.

I think this might be it. 

How I die.

A shrivelled up carcass, infested with desert bugs and rattle snakes. Laying beside some unknown street. Stagnant venom resting in my bones. At least, that way, I wouldn't die alone.

You wanted us to die together, remember that, Arthur?

"Well where the fuck are you now?" I croak.

"With your sister" I hear a voice whisper behind me.

"Get the fuck away from me!" I turn around to no one.

I really am crazy.

"I love her more than I even did you." It says.

I know.

"Come on Arthur, leave me be..." I beg.

"I did. That's why I chose her." The voice replies.

I know.

"Go away." I scream.

"Melina was always the perfect sister, Ry" It says.

I know.

"Please. Got-dammit!" I beg.

"Why would anyone, choose you?" It says.

No one has.

I drop to my knees hunched over as salt water refuses to stream out my eyes. Only my cries and howls are heard. Silent screams still loud enough to make the earth tremble - this is the chaos I know. I am suffocating, trying so hard to cry like a queen. But I lack the grace, I lack everything. Everything to make me enough. And I am no longer royal. I rummage the air for oxygen and Arthur and all that could make me whole again, but I find nothing.

I cry until the gods of hell hear me. My lungs beg for them to listen, to stop this.

I lay on a bed of burning tar, and searching the heavens for eyes. I wonder if he can see this. I wonder if anyone can see this.

I am the entertainment. Why not put on a show?

I promise to make you laugh at the end.

I promise to be your clown.

I lay on the street, gasping for hot air.

Perhaps this is not how I die.

Perhaps I died long ago.

I pass out on the street. And before I fall, I fall in love.

Hey again. Blue.