Something I wrote...

I wrote this in 10th grade but last night I revised the shit out of it. It's about half as long now and I made a few minor changes that drastically altered the meaning of the individual sentences and the work as a whole. I hope yall like it.

That Is Barely a Story

Code:

    The pencil came to life and I winced at the thought of the point piercing my eye. Tears almost came out. I caught the pencil with my teeth, gnashing and grinding until it naught but splinters mingled with blood, gum and tongue. I spit this mixture out. Black like this ink.[FONT=&quot][/FONT]
              There I was, standing right in front of me.
              “Fuck you!” I hollered. I threw a punch. The pain seemed like nothing. I was wounded. Blood, always bleeding. I hate its wet and red stains. Blood is useless. Am I bleeding? Are you bleeding? Are you sure I'm not bleeding? Okay.
              “How are you?” I asked.
              “I'm better than before.”
              “Sorry about the fight.” I said.
              “It's okay.” 
              Larry walked in. Larry was a hobo. He stood about five feet and six inches tall. He had extremely large eyes with phosphorous pupils of grey, the very same color as his hair. He spoke: “You. Son of the earth.” He didn't know me. I opened my mouth to reply but no sound emerged. “Son of lore and flaw, your sky wreaks war.”
              “You're right.” I said. I was alone. I was in a place I knew very well. I looked for something. I wasn't sure what, but I wanted to find out. There was nothing.