Originally Posted by
Zoroash
I know, right? It's like each time I eat the ravioli, I enter into a sort of tantric state..
I awoke to the light beaming across my face. The morning smell of flowers and dew heightened my senses since awakening. My dreams consisted of my unity with my beloved, my Sara. Sara my seraph; she severed my heart. I get up from the bed, dazed and confused by my haunting illusion of loneliness. I look at the time. It's 12:50. I slither and creep to the kitchen, my clothes hanging loosely like displaced skin. I am but a zombie that did not die physically but mentally. I open up the cupboard. Surrounded in a sea of packets and cans I make out a distinct, orange, tin container. The picture comes into view. A man, adorned with white clothing, smiles back at me, offering his services for the day. I let loose a weak smile, a smile that breaks the crust on the edge of my mouth. I reach for the can, aware that his gift shall only add to my weight that binds me to the ground and prevents me from ascending to my goals. I pop open the can, and smell the sweet smell of cat food-like meat and brownish-orange sauce. I splatter the raviolis onto the plate, the liquid lashing out onto my white t-shirt. I'm a slob. I set down, and take the first bite of the cold, delicious treats. I pause for a moment, staring blankly at the food. As the sun shines through the window upon my lonely self, I begin to doze back into slumber. Sara, my love, stands there; shrouded in white, her loving gaze reflects of my longing face, and leaves me alone. I wake up. Realizing I have awaken into my hell on earth, I gaze at the plate: The orange sauce is but a collection of flames that binds me to my hell.