My first in-progress album is "City in Winter" so all of the tracks with the subway-logo are connected.

To Be A Rose

by MiSFiTT (A.Anderson)

To be a rose,
unpetalled and sore,
dripping and humid,
the Garden Whore.

Would I rather be,
than the milky sweet flower,
that although content,
has not lived an hour.

Prologue

A boy and girl lie wrapped in each others arms, staring up at a starless night sky in a large field alongside a road. It is late. They are both in bloom and every few moments they turn their pretty faces toward each other and smile.

"I love you." he says.

"I love you." she says.

And smile at each other, eyes emblazoned with affection. And so even without a star in the sky, their world is perfect in that field; gazing into each others eyes, they stroke each others faces softly, interested by the smallest freckle dancing upon the other's skin.

"I love you." she says.

"I love you." he says.

The Inamorato

by MiSFiTT (A.Anderson)

Death is one moment, and life is so many of them. -Tennessee Williams

I opened my eyes. The salty and hard-baked air filled my nostrils with a painful remedy for sleep while waves crashed with a wail; a lone seagull flying by cried out from the blotted out sky. A black and smokey veil for the sun is what the sky has become. I let out a great sigh before turning over and pushing my calloused hands into the stained dirt, sorely forcing my body upright. Blocks of led hung from the bottoms of my eyelids; my hands were cracked with blood and hardened sand. I felt something wedged inside of my left fist. I began to carefully unclose my hand but stopped when the rhythmic squishing of wet sand approached. I looked up and my eyes met Lieutenant's. Slapping my arms down to my sides I brought my legs together; my right arm flew upward and a sharpened hand swung at my forehead. Salut.

I stuffed whatever had been in my fist into my pocket and picked up my gun from the ground. Lieutenant stumbled off to the next sleeping dead soldier. Death was everywhere: in the air we breathed, on the ground we walked, in our minds and in our hearts; Death was everywhere. I swung the strap of my gun around my back, wincing at it's sting against my weathered body. I no longer noticed the dying groans of men as I walked along the cold beach. They seemed meaningless to me now, as did everything else. Losing my sloppy footing I tripped and fell with a short and surprised in-take of breath. I spat out the sand and struggled with myself to stand again. Little rocks of sand are made up of tougher stuff than a body. I've learned that over the past few months.

Trudging on I stopped upon a large shard of glass stuck in the earth like a blemish upon it's face. Looking down into it I saw the reflection of a man I didn't know. He stared back at me with sunken black eyes; his nose was crooked as if someone had wrenched it sideways and his hair was that of a mad man. Cuts and scars and scrapes ran across his gray and black and red face as if he were afflicted with some disease. Reaching down, I picked up the mirage and held it close to my face with a trembling hand. After a singular thought I crushed it. My hand swelled. The sky fell down upon me. The world darkened and a dry tear found it's way into the corner of one of my eyes.

Screams and bullets tearing through the air slowly became apparent to me in an echoing crescendo. The world shook and I threw my body to the ground behind a giant rock in the sand. It had only been a matter of time before they came for us. We had all known it when we received word of our abandonment - of our meaningless nature. I hid behind my rock as men ran forward or backward in total chaos. Led shot through their brains one by one ending a lifetime of memories; shells blew up their hearts one by one ending a lifetime of love. No soul could escape the heavenly fire from the hills that rained down upon us like the Judgement Day.

My veins pumped vigorously as blood rushed throughout my whole body. I felt my skin pulsating and I clenched my gun tight to my body. I dug deep into my soul to find something to get up and fight for; a singular idea or thought to stand up and die for. But there is nothing left to dig out of a grave already dug.

I stayed behind my rock until the rhythmic splashing of wet blood approached. It was Lieutenant. He yelled and hollered, throwing my trembling body out from behind my rock just as a bullet shot through his mouth. His eyes bulged outward, dementing his face; an emotion that only a dying man knows overwhelmed him and as he stumbled on the sand a second bullet mercilessly shot through his forehead, throwing him backward.

I began to quickly crawl back behind my rock when I noticed something had fallen out of my pocket, next to Lieutenant's blood. I grabbed it and picked it up. I held it out in front of me.

(Oh, God)

Tears welled up in my eyes and a smile wrapped itself around my face; my heart trembled and my soul shook; an overpowering warmth overtook my whole body as I looked down at the thin piece of photo-paper I held: My love; my world. Through all the chaos her smile shook the gray clouds of death away; the sun shined down on her beautiful face and lit the world like lightning. My love; my world - my life is yours.

I charged forward, gun in hand, screaming like everyone else, hallowed out and carved up from the inside like everyone else. For in times of war, men die from the inside out.

A bullet tore through the blade of my shoulder.

Yet I charged on.

A bullet sundered through the muscle of my chest.

I charged on.

A bullet ripped through the bone of my knee.

Charged on...

and on...

and on.

My love; my world - your smile sets my soul afire.