toxin {fox//blitz}

kousei ♚
Mentor

2,011 POSTS
Pronouns: He/Him/His
last seen May 7, 2022 17:23:18 GMT -5

now and forever

toxin {fox//blitz} May 3, 2018 10:23:18 GMT -5

Post by kousei ♚ on May 3, 2018 10:23:18 GMT -5

► ► ►

I find a lifeline in sunlight.

I rise from a pile of ash, a clear mind and a shiver through blackened veins. "Shit." There's a shake in my wrist, I'm chasing the echo of a chemical storm; this is what it means to be numb. Telling myself that there isn't a bullet in my temple despite waking up to red sheets and bleeding veins. It's cyclical at this point. Hitting the ground, telling myself that I'm dead, but waking up like nothing happened.

I'm worth no more than the poisons they feed me; half a bag in my back pocket and my hands stuffed in my side ones. This is what it means to be numb; not feeling anything despite the blackened blood blooming from bullet wounds in my chest and a purple throb in my temple. This isn't withdrawal, this is numbness, and that fact is shown to me when I dare to touch the sun and call it my lifeline.

I'm chasing cyclical highs, following the sunlight in search of a lifeline.

Until I find the end, form disappearing into back alleys and wooden boxes. This seems like a good spot, I smile and set myself down on a box and pull one in front of me.

I bite my lip to the sound of a shift. Shuffling along the ground and shadows biting at my skin. My hand drifts and I think about the blade in my pocket -- try to steal my shit, I dare you. You don't stay in this business for long without getting your hands dirty.

I'm grinning when I challenge them, toxic confidence rises from between my teeth like smoke from a factory. Artificial, self-destructive but worth it.

"Y'know, if you want a hit then skulking about in the dark isn't the best way to make me want to share."

I find a lifeline in the shadows.

--

{ and we skydive from walls we've built

dying just to feel alive}

Last Edit: May 3, 2018 10:25:53 GMT -5 by kousei ♚

fox
Graphics

1,363 POSTS

Pronouns: she/her
last seen Apr 25, 2024 12:23:42 GMT -5

but a butt ?

toxin {fox//blitz} May 9, 2018 2:41:32 GMT -5

Post by fox on May 9, 2018 2:41:32 GMT -5

I O

► ► ►

A scar healed the colour of angelbone on my wrist from years ago -- way back when someone had shoved me against the brick wall outside his store -- dropped the stolen goods, landed wrong, and cracked my wrist.

And so here we are. Like a silkworm string coiled around the radius, I remember Gany setting it for me so it would become nothing more than just a lustrous thread spun from pools and pools of blood. Shining silver in the light, I wait for the burns on my arm to turn the same shade of treasured, as if I could spin an entire bedazzled robe from my veins.

But boy am I an eyesore right now.

I’m red and raw and dying -- but I swear I'm a mine of rubies.

More like a handful of rust, the blood broke from my fingers, onto a collar of red blooming like an August sunset. There’s the dusk painted on my underside, a magnificent sky, the northern hemisphere extending from my face to my abdomen from hours of rubbing alcohol and crushed pills between my teeth, a bath of saltwater rushing like tides across my shoulders. I have a real shiner now, a split lip and a few loose screws.

And everything feels surreal, a puffy pink haze in a head that still hurts, still waiting for her to come back, for things to be alright. But maybe it’s been years since she’s called us home.

I’ve lost track of the time since she left.

But I think I’m getting used to feeling like shit.

Can’t afford crap right now -- looking in back alleys for cigarette butts, kicking up the dirt in hopes to find something uprooted in the gravel. There’s a shake in my step; there's every minute wondering who I have to kill around here for just a tablespoon when I find someone sitting on a crate.

From the shadows, I wonder how I’ll hide a body.

Guess I’m not that stealthy though because he says "Y'know, if you want a hit then skulking about in the dark isn't the best way to make me want to share."

Oh my god. I’m not sulking. I’m stalking. I kick the wall.

Now I'm sulking.

"I’m being considerate -- don't want to mess up the view with my face."

But busted is busted, and I step from the dark shadows with not much else left to fuck up.

Last Edit: May 9, 2018 2:42:44 GMT -5 by fox

kousei ♚
Mentor

2,011 POSTS
Pronouns: He/Him/His
last seen May 7, 2022 17:23:18 GMT -5

now and forever

toxin {fox//blitz} May 13, 2018 11:07:13 GMT -5

Post by kousei ♚ on May 13, 2018 11:07:13 GMT -5

► ► ►

Confidence bleeds from between my teeth, rising from mechanical lungs like factory smoke and dispersing before I've been given the privilege of inhaling. I'm so numb, and that fact is proven when the fleeting thought of a shade pressing a blade against my throat doesn't so much as quicken my black pulse. I smile, artificial confidence bleeding from my tongue and a porcelain hand through dry hair. This is a scenario I've read a thousand times. Caustic shades and red clouds; this is nothing I haven't seen before.

Nothing the pocket knife against my thigh can't solve.

Still, the thought of beneath my fingernails and peeling from my skin still draws a tremble from my skin, doesn't leave me feeling nothing. It's a case I'd rather not have happen, I don't want to have to hide a fucking corpse.

"I’m being considerate -- don't want to mess up the view with my face."

He rips himself from shadows and embraces the sunlight. I can't help but grin, one eye kept on him and another kept on half a bag sitting on the crate in front of me. I'm listening for a rhythm; a verse of surprise and a chorus of betrayal. He never said he was alone, after all. And sometimes, the song people sing doesn't match the rhythm they sound with their actions. But there's nothing here, no one to hear, nothing to hide from. It's just the two of us here, good.

My knife stays untouched and heavy in my pocket.

"I'm sitting on a crate in the middle of a piss-soaked alleyway, you'd have to try pretty hard to make this view any worse," porcelain nails and nimble fingers tear a hole in the plastic bag. My skin is ash and my blood is fire; no fucks are given.

"Pull up a crate if you want, gotta reward you somehow for being so considerate." I look down at his feet, eyes travelling up his pale hands to his face. "One condition, keep your hands to your damn self."

--

{ and we skydive from walls we've built

dying just to feel alive}

Last Edit: May 13, 2018 11:08:49 GMT -5 by kousei ♚

fox
Graphics

1,363 POSTS

Pronouns: she/her
last seen Apr 25, 2024 12:23:42 GMT -5

but a butt ?

toxin {fox//blitz} Jun 8, 2018 16:46:13 GMT -5

Post by fox on Jun 8, 2018 16:46:13 GMT -5

I O

► ► ►

Pain is proof of everything I guess.

And it stopped hurting when Gany left, something settling into my veins in tones of morphling, lukewarm haze like the world had gone to sleep one night on permanent melatonin. There’s sunlight hitting the crate, falling across the bag of gold he picks open. A dull ache pounds behind my eyes, the early morning blinds, and my insides have molted to the sight. I pull up a seat on another crate.

Shaking myself awake, wandering a ghost town in my diaphragm, cajoling myself “oh c’mon feel something.”

I could be dead right now --

“One condition, keep your hands to your damn self.”

And I guess I’m in the mood to die when I reach over, deliberately, slowly, almost looking for one more fight, just one more time --

and gently poke him in the cheek, light as a feather and begging to be knifed. “Haha, whoops.”

My mouth is full of honey these days, all the things I don’t mean dripping down my chin sweetly, a nectarine pulse, as deep and orange as the sunset when I say “Can’t help myself if you’re cute.”

I’m all blood and guts, bank for the chemical compounds precious in me. And I feel dangerous, I feel dead, common sense on autopilot through whatever turbulence this is. But I still find the energy to pout in an impatience I don’t really have, intoning “So are we doing this or not?”