miketysonpraise

Jacques escaped from the cupboard lighting a Newport and taking a breeze, the locks on the cupboard were damaged from years of abuse. It was his place to escape when he heard the noises. The noises were of course the sound of his parents. Moments of passion, moments of contempt, moments of violence he could no longer tell them apart. He only knew he could not deal with them, he could never face them. He hid and escaped fleeing within himself telling himself to disappear to transport his body somewhere new and wonderful, someplace without people. His place of hiding had often been far from a haven. Empty Newport packs scrawled on the floor the banging on the door and the screaming for him to come out with a threat of violence. The hinge had been removed but it remained to him his only place of safety. He walked up the stairs and went to his family’s living room. The sight made him chuckle his mother had no face and his father lay in a provocative pose with a hack-sawed neck. He took his fathers wallet and never returned to the house. He decided to leave his rural area and journey to Paris. He walked past the pigs and cows barefoot he had a long walk. He took his walking seriously never stopping unless it was to go to the bathroom or to find food. He regarded himself as Jacques Piccard exploring the challengers deep. As he walked he met people of all kinds interesting people who wanted to varnish him or steal the nothing he had. He walked for months slowly his pace gradually but never settling down in any town. He walked until his interest of city life needed to be satisfied. He stopped in a big city and decided to wander its depths. His torn and fragile look was sympathetic with the people of the inn and he was given free room. He was uninterested in most people he met he found them uninteresting. He could identify only with the men at the taverns who spoke only of dreams and the wonders and how they would all soon be theirs, but they never did reach there goals and only drank and talked and become a bore. He then met a women of interest. She worked and traveled and cared nothing for her body for her mind but only for the experience and the adventure, she never had a thought on morality. She seduced him and took him under her wing despite the scorn of others. They left the village she could not work for long in one place without gaining a terrible reputation that lost her all her customers. She was a traveling prostitute. She showed him the joy of living and the animosity and terror of life. She took him dancing and saw the terrible hopeless lust of man and his unending desire. The women took him to a friend’s house. She told him it was he who had told her the way to take and capture a mans heart. He was in some way a pimp and a pusher of a sort. He had many other women of the same sort who worked within his city she was the only one to travel and spread his business. She loved him she told him and he watched as he beat her and yelled and screamed at her and he desired to be in his cupboard. But she ate away at his abuse and loved it and did nothing she let him use here rob her and tear her apart and then leave her drugged and torn. She told Jacques it was all in good fun and it was all her fault. After that day Jacques despised her. The only person he had ever respected or desired-found interesting was just as weak and torn as everyone. He could not speak with her. The weakness in her tore him into pieces. He then plotted to kill the only person he had ever thought of loving. He denied her her humanity. It was as though he was smothering a dog weak frayed and confused. No attachment or love as though he was shooting a deer for venison necessary for his own survival. Denial of all his own human weakness grew in his head. He knew what he needed, and he waked on an on, why Paris and, what he would do once he was there never was thought by him only the majestic city he imagined, a mystic Olympian city of otherworldliness a place realities futility could never reach. He walked and refused himself of his humanly limitations he walked and walked until his feet failed him and he used his hands to gain as much distance as he could never giving up. He crawled until his eyes failed him and until only his body continued out of habit. He continued until his breath ceased and until his arms and legs would never be moved by his force or will until his brain could never have another thought.