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When I woke up a man in a dark suit told me that my wife Clara hadn't survived the crash. Brimstone green fluid called morphine pumped through my veins like liquid pain mixed with the pleasing feeling of being hit in the skull with a brick; that numbing tingle that makes you want to keel over and vomit out whatever inkling of a soul you have left in that pathetic body of yours into the gutters.

The feeling of the poison bridging the missing gaps in my brain was making me dizzy, I told the man in the suit that my wife Clara had died three years ago; and he told me that I should shut the hell up and go with it.

And then I was sitting in the Twilight Cafe' smoking a cigarette and finishing the last two pages of my novel. A part of my brain was telling me that I had done this before, but my hands moved on. Green rain pooled around my fingertips as I lay in the middle of the street pulling my breath with whatever I could get in through the hole in my neck. The damn rain was making it hard to gurgle and this damn green color will never get out of my shirt.
But there I was, scrubbing my face in the mirror with a razor blade just trying to get the damn colour out but every time I cleared it off more would pour out.

But goddamnit that man in the suit wouldn't let go of my eyes, I told him that I needed them in my head but he just laughed and crushed them; and I laughed with him because he was me and I was a bum laying in the graveyard in front of my wife's grave and I WASN'T ******** here comes the black tar, it's seeping out of my nose and I'm holding Clara's hand on the beach and she's dying at the speed of sound but she's not Clara she's the man in the suit and his eyes are green and I'm black.
The man is telling me to go with it, but I'll die and I'm not even done with my novel yet and I need to finish because they aren't just characters they're real people and I Love Lucy but she has some 'splainin to do and for the love of ******** CHRIST would someone turn off this brain tumor?! It's giving me a headache and the black stuff is mixing with the green stuff and I don't like the taste of either.

The doctor is telling the Writer that the operation was successful, but that he should stay off of his feet for a while because his brain needs to get used to the lack of a tumor it has known all it's life.


More later.

Hm.
Maybe I'll make more soon, I forgot what it was though.

hmmm. interesting.

I really liked it, but I'm confused as to if there is more. [wow, I'm a genious. just noticed the "more later" in italics XD]

I think it's a great start to whatever you're writing!