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human condition; train [blitz]
Jan 31, 2017 23:52:22 GMT -5
Post by heather - d2 [mylee] on Jan 31, 2017 23:52:22 GMT -5
s h e l b y ♔ l e v i a n e
I am caught in the eye of a hurricane that has no intention of weakening with the passing weeks.
There is still an acrid taste burning in my throat, reminding me of the mixed drink of regret and misfortune still clutched tightly in my hand. Except this time, the vodka containing cigarette ashes had been lost when I had attempted to keep it away from a man in white, only to have it shattered across my own skin instead. Now, a bloody palm and a sharp tongue were all that remained as remnants of the last hour.
Instead the sight with which I was met now was another girl and a boy, neither amused and neither worth impressing. I take a glass from the center of the table, rolling the scalloped edge towards me before filling it with the nearest bottle of whatever I could reach first. After pouring just past the halfway point I push the glass towards the two of them in offering before proceeding to raise the rest of the bottle to my lips.
Content with a new fire ignited I set the bottle between my legs, unwilling to let it out of my possession until it is nothing more than broken shards of another memory I won’t feel obligated to remember.
No one speaks for a moment, and with fire in the lungs comes a fiery tongue. I find myself leaning across the table, closing the space between us and pointing to the half empty, half-full glass in front of them.
“Are you going to finish this?”
There is still an acrid taste burning in my throat, reminding me of the mixed drink of regret and misfortune still clutched tightly in my hand. Except this time, the vodka containing cigarette ashes had been lost when I had attempted to keep it away from a man in white, only to have it shattered across my own skin instead. Now, a bloody palm and a sharp tongue were all that remained as remnants of the last hour.
Instead the sight with which I was met now was another girl and a boy, neither amused and neither worth impressing. I take a glass from the center of the table, rolling the scalloped edge towards me before filling it with the nearest bottle of whatever I could reach first. After pouring just past the halfway point I push the glass towards the two of them in offering before proceeding to raise the rest of the bottle to my lips.
Content with a new fire ignited I set the bottle between my legs, unwilling to let it out of my possession until it is nothing more than broken shards of another memory I won’t feel obligated to remember.
No one speaks for a moment, and with fire in the lungs comes a fiery tongue. I find myself leaning across the table, closing the space between us and pointing to the half empty, half-full glass in front of them.
“Are you going to finish this?”
