carlinmay
There she sat on the balcony over looking the dingy parking lot, foggy with humidity that softened the street lights. Around her waist was the arms of a stranger, taking drags of a cig and blowing smoke into her hair. His chest vibrating against her back as he hummed to the smoke. And the deck smelled like ash, the air like dew, and her clothes like chlorine and vodka. Her skin was dusted with salt and dirt from the previous night; it layered into a caky matte finish around the thin hairs on her arms. A ringing still buzzed from the shock of silence after hours of loud reggae and ska music blaring over four foot tall speakers. Her panties were still wet from a minute ago. And she stood back on her heels. contemplating what had just happened.
He lowered a blunt in front of her face as an offering.
"no"
The only time she drew the line.
she stood with her fingers curled around an imaginary camera. Lined it up right in front of her face, eyes wide looking through the imaginary view finder. Zoomed in and adjusted the lighting. Smiled and made a click noise with her mouth. Sigh. This will forever be etched in the back of her brain.
a soft fluff of clouds wrapped up around the foothills and sinking into the crevasses. The wispy mist at the edge of her toes. It buzzed with a glow of the rising sun and sang with the ringing of silence. In every breath there was a rush of life. Like nothing that a picture could bring.
there is nothing like prying open the spring of the trap. Pulling the crippled tail out of the bite and walking. away. with a breath in your lungs and a thought in your brain and a beat in your heart. oh how does the air feel cleaner and sweeter. and your mind sharper and calmer. and your beat, everlasting.
Living with the sunshine never felt nicer. and the day feels right until you walk towards the next block of cheese.
There is always a method to my madness. there is no such thing as chaos without some unknowing order to it. there is no such thing as chaos, only order. things are never random, they are predictable. and thats what makes life scary. what we can't control but that that is controlled.
Losses. They are permanent. Otherwise, they are redemptions.
writing since 2012 · 5 entries · 5 days shown up
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the words Carlin reaches for
chaosorderbreathbrainbeatairstoodimaginaryfacelookingbuzzedringingsilencearmssmokelosses