room temperature
moonlight shines in magma eyes. cravings hit. out into the street. it's quiet here. too quiet. houses and lights. cars pass by silently, almost odorless.
drive through neighborhoods and boulevards. concrete, glass, neon, metal. shining, flashing, glittering. stop in a shop. i don't need anything, but it looks broken and dirty. go inside and buy water and cigarettes. a cigar shop indian lurks in the corner. wooden. silent. beautiful. i love indians. they taste....pure. ask the guy behind the counter if he will sell me the indian. he says i have to ask the owner. he gives me a card. feel upbeat as i hit the street.
my phone rings, turn up the music. 7 seconds, positive energy. flip open the phone and lay it on the seat. tires squeal, drive faster.
i drink. yeah, sometimes i binge. can't help it. you find someone pure, delicate. it's hard to tear yourself away. sometimes a kiss is enough. sometimes. turn a hard right and the phone flings across my seat at the door. pick the phone off the floor, shut it and laugh. i park.
walk in. quiet. alone. sound erupts. warmth from bodies. alcohol fuels the fire, smoke to mark the passage of time. it stirs the embers. sit at the bar. the bartender takes too long. focus to black, look up.
women wander, girls giggle, syrupy. boys without haircuts, men without drive. she dives into the ethos. a necklace upon her neck. my tongue is tough, but tender. run it across my teeth. they are fucking sharp, jagged. my pupils widen, i feel my eyes going black. bite my lips, alternately. she is dark, pale. a hint of red somewhere. whole. she passes me. i can feel red seeping through the blackness. clench my glass tightly. empty it. put it softly on the bar and will another into my hands. i wonder what she'll taste like? a lip, a small drop spills.
moonlight shines in magma eyes. cravings hit. out into the street. it's quiet here. too quiet. houses and lights. cars pass by silently, almost odorless.
drive through neighborhoods and boulevards. concrete, glass, neon, metal. shining, flashing, glittering. stop in a shop. i don't need anything, but it looks broken and dirty. go inside and buy water and cigarettes. a cigar shop indian lurks in the corner. wooden. silent. beautiful. i love indians. they taste....pure. ask the guy behind the counter if he will sell me the indian. he says i have to ask the owner. he gives me a card. feel upbeat as i hit the street.
my phone rings, turn up the music. 7 seconds, positive energy. flip open the phone and lay it on the seat. tires squeal, drive faster.
i drink. yeah, sometimes i binge. can't help it. you find someone pure, delicate. it's hard to tear yourself away. sometimes a kiss is enough. sometimes. turn a hard right and the phone flings across my seat at the door. pick the phone off the floor, shut it and laugh. i park.
walk in. quiet. alone. sound erupts. warmth from bodies. alcohol fuels the fire, smoke to mark the passage of time. it stirs the embers. sit at the bar. the bartender takes too long. focus to black, look up.
women wander, girls giggle, syrupy. boys without haircuts, men without drive. she dives into the ethos. a necklace upon her neck. my tongue is tough, but tender. run it across my teeth. they are fucking sharp, jagged. my pupils widen, i feel my eyes going black. bite my lips, alternately. she is dark, pale. a hint of red somewhere. whole. she passes me. i can feel red seeping through the blackness. clench my glass tightly. empty it. put it softly on the bar and will another into my hands. i wonder what she'll taste like? a lip, a small drop spills.