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Literature Text
I am thirty three years old...and I am dying...
So here I am, lying on my death bed, this thought burying itself in my mind. Oh, how I dread the thought, yet I have long awaited my inevitable end. Elizabeth lies next to me. Naive she was; to marry me. But as I think back, I wasn't always the man I am today. I've gone from a proud intellect to a man who can't even take a shit without having to be picked up like a child and carried away. I've become a man who can't even clean himself up after pissing his pants.
Countless days of drinking and adultery satisfied my hunger. The rational part of my mind scoffed at me till the day it died while his gluttonous brother praised me. He praised me so, feeding the fire of my greed as the wine was poured down my throat. Never did I think I would end up like this. The smell of puss and rotting flesh filling the spot where my nose should have been. I can barely see; one of my brown eyes turning pale and foggy.
Yet as I lie here waiting for death, I feel the urge to call out her name. It was as if she would come to me like she once did. I treated her as my student and soon, she became my lover. I was wed to Elizabeth, yet my heart belonged to Lizzie. And even when she grew tired of me, I still felt her wanting and love in me. She broke my heart. But she was the only real person to ever see inside it. The only thing I have left of her is our child of passion. The only child that has ever given me such meaning. The one I will never meet.
Not even God made his way into my heart. Mother wonders why I don't serve him, why I refuse to die a Christian. God has done nothing for me. I never believed in him before, and he has done nothing to change my mind. She attempts to revive a Christian faith that was never there and I laugh in her face. By dying an Atheist, I can also laugh in the putrid face of God.
Those who knew me, know me no longer. There is nothing left of the John Wilmot they have seen and not seen. The men who listened in awe to every word that has left my mouth will never know the real words behind it. The only woman I ever loved will never know why I loved her. The only woman who ever loved me will never love again after my death. And to those people who liked me, I curse them. I curse them and spit in their faces. I damn them to hell for liking a man who will never like himself.
I am thirty three years old...and I am dying...
The feeling of lightness comes upon me as I speak the words a loud. Those words pound in my head at an unbearable speed, but something stops it as I shuffle from this world. One thought; a story.
Speak to me of abduction...
She speaks, but I hear nothing.
So here I am, lying on my death bed, this thought burying itself in my mind. Oh, how I dread the thought, yet I have long awaited my inevitable end. Elizabeth lies next to me. Naive she was; to marry me. But as I think back, I wasn't always the man I am today. I've gone from a proud intellect to a man who can't even take a shit without having to be picked up like a child and carried away. I've become a man who can't even clean himself up after pissing his pants.
Countless days of drinking and adultery satisfied my hunger. The rational part of my mind scoffed at me till the day it died while his gluttonous brother praised me. He praised me so, feeding the fire of my greed as the wine was poured down my throat. Never did I think I would end up like this. The smell of puss and rotting flesh filling the spot where my nose should have been. I can barely see; one of my brown eyes turning pale and foggy.
Yet as I lie here waiting for death, I feel the urge to call out her name. It was as if she would come to me like she once did. I treated her as my student and soon, she became my lover. I was wed to Elizabeth, yet my heart belonged to Lizzie. And even when she grew tired of me, I still felt her wanting and love in me. She broke my heart. But she was the only real person to ever see inside it. The only thing I have left of her is our child of passion. The only child that has ever given me such meaning. The one I will never meet.
Not even God made his way into my heart. Mother wonders why I don't serve him, why I refuse to die a Christian. God has done nothing for me. I never believed in him before, and he has done nothing to change my mind. She attempts to revive a Christian faith that was never there and I laugh in her face. By dying an Atheist, I can also laugh in the putrid face of God.
Those who knew me, know me no longer. There is nothing left of the John Wilmot they have seen and not seen. The men who listened in awe to every word that has left my mouth will never know the real words behind it. The only woman I ever loved will never know why I loved her. The only woman who ever loved me will never love again after my death. And to those people who liked me, I curse them. I curse them and spit in their faces. I damn them to hell for liking a man who will never like himself.
I am thirty three years old...and I am dying...
The feeling of lightness comes upon me as I speak the words a loud. Those words pound in my head at an unbearable speed, but something stops it as I shuffle from this world. One thought; a story.
Speak to me of abduction...
She speaks, but I hear nothing.
Literature
Sweenett chapter 7
Mrs. Lovett finally fell asleep in Sweeney's arms at about four in the morning. He let out a relieved sigh. He honestly had no idea what to say or do to help her. He just held her and let her cry in his chest
It wasn't much, but it was all he could offer and she seemed to be ok with it
Poor Mrs. Lovett, if he was just a minute late only God knows what that bastard would do to her
Things that Turpin did to his Lucy
His Lucy
Suddenly he felt guilty. He felt guilty for almost forgetting about her. For not trying as hard to kill the Judge as he should
For avenging Mrs. Lovett's almost rape before he did Lucy's.
Literature
Sweenett chapter 6
It was spring. April to be exact. Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd have been concealing their little affair really well from the public. But, to tell the truth they were both kind of surprised that no one had found out about it. Sometimes it was so obvious. For example, Sweeney would leave his shop and come down to hers, to offer his assistance, but whenever he found the chance he kissed her lips. He had become quite dependant on her. He could not even sleep without her by his side. It was all new to him, but not to her. She had been dreaming about this since the day she first set eyes on him. She always was a dreamer. She would always close her eyes
Literature
They Are Les Miserables
My lover died in the arms of un-remembrance,
Leaving me a lark in his place,
Leaving me no more need of him.
The hypocrite was taken by the river,
In a deliberate act of ironic selfishness,
And as he fell, he dreamed.
The boy fell at the hand of the merciless street,
Strewn between bodies,
Just another child who did not live to see the morning.
The young blood went with the eyes of his beholder,
Who is also known as the man who loved and believed in him,
They faded with no more than a histrionic sigh in a forgotten flash of red.
The battered rose slipped away in the arms of one who never saw,
The rain didn't hurt her but the woun
Suggested Collections
Based on The Libertine
For the John Wilmot fans out there...
For the John Wilmot fans out there...
© 2008 - 2024 mr-picklesaur
Comments3
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First this:
The Libertine is my favourite JD movie.
When you write " The only thing I have left of her is our child of passion. The only child that has ever given me such meaning. The one I will never meet." it adds to something I always feel when I watch this movie. Every time I watch the scene when Lizzie tells him with almost no visilble emotion that they have a child I feel the urge to slap her. Watching Wilmot more dead than alive and seeing how she talks to him - so cold - yes I agree with you that what you wrote could be what he thought in his last moments....
The Libertine is my favourite JD movie.
When you write " The only thing I have left of her is our child of passion. The only child that has ever given me such meaning. The one I will never meet." it adds to something I always feel when I watch this movie. Every time I watch the scene when Lizzie tells him with almost no visilble emotion that they have a child I feel the urge to slap her. Watching Wilmot more dead than alive and seeing how she talks to him - so cold - yes I agree with you that what you wrote could be what he thought in his last moments....