SO many things rush to my mind. Something with all the senses. My personal favorite is the thought of a vaporizer. Because I always become instantly obsessed with smoke in all of its unshapely glory, so free and flawless.
Minahil Siddiqui
“Oh!” Lady Beatrice swooned onto the lounge chair, somehow arranging her skirts around her neatly, “I’m having vapors!”
Lady Darcy snorted behind her lacy fan, disbelief of the others theatrics written large over her features. Lord Mintz glanced at her, amusement quirking up a corner of his lips before Lady Beatrice, seeing that her supposed vapors weren’t bringing in the attention to her like she planned, moaned louder, “That mongrel was so frightening!”
“What’s condensation?” Myra whined. Her hands clad in obnoxiously orange bracelets gripped the edges of her 5th grade science textbook in frustration.
Beth took in a deep breath and smiled politely. She had to. “I already explained this to you, sweetie. It’s water vapor. The change in a state of matter from a gaseous phase to liquid.”
The young girl stared squinty eyed at her tutor as though Beth had just stolen the last pair of capri shorts from Justice. “I don’t get that,” she sassed. Pulling out her iphone (Really? Were fifth graders already allowed to have cell phones? Spoiled brat.) she began texting some of her friends about God knows what.
“Myra, you’ve already failed two of your science tests this year. You want to make it to junior high school, right?”
She flipped her bangs from her face and surrendered the phone face down on the desk. “yeah,” she muttered.
Beth stared at Myra, wondering how on earth she was going to get through to this girl. Beth had just graduated high school and needed to make some extra money before going off to Berry college. She could finally be an equestrian and only worry about horses. Not people. Much less whiney thirteen year olds. “I know you’re smart. I know you try at things,” Beth gave the squinty eyes right back at her younger counterpart, “I’ve seen all those doodles in your notebook and they’re good. Wizards and witches and stuff. Did you make it all up?”
“Why do you care?” Myra muttered under her breath.
The tutor reached over to Myra’s notebook with Justin Bieber’s face staring at her from the front cover. She flipped to a few bullet points she’d taken during class about the American Revolution bordered by a beautiful depiction of a boy with round glasses wearing a robe. “Who is this?” she inquired gently.
Myra’s reaction was unexpected. The “my way or the highway” bold face melted to reveal tear vapor welling up in her eyes. “I read Harry Potter, ok?” she confessed. “a few kids at school found out and they make fun of me.” She began to sniffle. “I’m a NERD,” she wailed.
Beth took a quick glance out the window to make sure Myra’s parents weren’t pulling up in the driveway. She didn’t want them to arrive home to the sight of their daughter in tears. They were no nonsense folks. And they drove a mercedes.
“I’ll bet J.K. Rowling was a nerd.”
Myra wiped her nose with her sleeve. “How would you know?”
Beth shrugged. “She’d have to be. To invent all that.”
Myra began reapplying pink lip gloss that she’d whipped out of her backpack. “But I’ll bet the kids didn’t throw her books on the ground.”
“Listen, sweetie. Every doctor, lawyer, entrepreneur… everybody who ever worked hard at something was a nerd. Newton, the Wright Brothers, Van Gogh. Without them we wouldn’t have physics or planes or, you know, good art. Nerds are what make the world the way it is. The kids who just skate by aren’t going anywhere.” She felt as though she were preaching to herself. But Myra was soaking in every word.
“Were you a nerd?” She whispered.
“Still am. How many competitive horse riders do you think live in Illinois?”
Myra smiled, exposing her missing molar in the back right corner of her mouth. She closed her notebook and pressed it against her chest.
Just when Beth thought she’d brought on a pivotal moment of self confidence in the life of an adolescent, Myra demanded, “Who was Van Gough?”
Once again, Beth sighed. “We’ll finish learning about water vapor first. Then, I’ll brush you up on art history.”
The swamp’s water looked strange in the morning light, almost like it was moving. Upon closer inspection, we could see acid green vapor writhing in thick, serpentine billows from the surface of the water.
Curling. Rising up from the edges. Exiting the cage and entering the expanse. With it rose the heat. The heat, a reminder of each grueling day, each grudging morning. It brought warmth to all it could reach; it was welcome on this cold winter day. The vapor brought with it wakefulness—or was it the liquid from which it stemmed?
vs
I watched the mist clear slowly. It was cold and I didn’t quite know what to do other than stand there dumbly in my out-of-season outfit. The vapor gathered and condensed on my shoulders and drip to the creases of my elbows
Nellie
There was a slight mist hanging over the swamp as Jimmy made his way through the muck. Suddenly he heard a scream behind him. He turned and saw a bloodied girl holding a knife ready to stab him. Last thing he saw was her blue bloodshot eyes that had no soul behind them.
Cole
It had come, the time was here for me to resist rising to the fate I’d long postponed. I had to make it to her first. I had to say good bye. I ran. As everything darkened around me and death’s shadow chased me, I ran. I had to hug my mother one last time. I had to say goodbye.
Air trickling onto your back like so much cool condensation on the glass surface of your diamond cut body
A sculpture lining a path
A marble frame that doesn’t need to know where it is going
Pointing through the fog for the passing to follow
Immobile with beading vapor on petrified skin
Dreams, a misty haze, a thin fog, clouding the eyes, condensation on the window from our mingling breaths. The sun comes out to play and it all vanishes. For those 5 minutes I can believe we are friends, but when the door closes and I turn my back, everything turns to vapors floating to the sky, and I am just an imagination again
it soaked into the air , forming a cloud. It was ready to see all the little people down there. It liked hitting the people who scared spit, or the person crying. because somehow that rain droplet was a vapor at one point, and it is a part of your story.
He stepped up to the just-barely-open door and hunched over, catching his breath from the long walk up the never-ending steps.
The long walk to heaven, he thought. God, that’s lame, he thought.
He stood up straight. Composed himself, wiping the sweat from his brow.
He swallowed, and prepared for the rest of what would come.
He stepped through the doorway. As it swung open, its aged frame no longer the gold it used to be, it creaked quietly. Just a little warning for who or what awaited beyond.
But a warning was not necessary.
It had waited, a long, long time.
Longer than the chain events that led him here had taken place. Before they were even propagated by fate.
But, what was fate? Not much. That much he had learned.
He took a step through the doorway and into the space beyond.
He stood there, gripping the handle, and looked on in awe.
Everything ahead of him was star-like. There were not any physical features to the world, or whatever it was. It was just /there/.
He looked behind him and could see the old hallway that had begun falling apart far before he was born. At the end of it, the treacherous stairs that lead back down from whence he came. Back to his old life. To secrets unearthed. To friends waiting, hopeful he would return. To friends waiting beneath the earth, hopeful they never met again. To all the answers he had discovered. To certainty. To affirmation and confirmation.
To security.
But he could not. Try as he did, he pushed with all his will. He wanted to run. Run back down those stairs, back to everyone and everything he knew and held dear. Even to the fearfulness and danger. He wanted with all of himself to see their faces.
But he stood, longing, paralyzed, his hand gripping the doorknob until finally there was nothing else to do.
He shut the door behind him. It faded away, the doorknob disappearing from his grip.
There was not /a/ direction to go. This place was directionless. Forever and infinitely vast no matter where he may look. And at the same time everything was so close to him, perpetually small to the point of almost not existing.
So he just breathed.
He would know when it was right to do /something/. Whatever that something may be. He would know that too when it was right to know.
So he just stood, breathing, and closed his eyes.
The sounds of the world beyond washed over him unexpectedly with such force that he nearly fell to his feet. But there was no where to fall. Not here.
He could hear it all. Everything and everyone going about their lives. Hoping for better tomorrows, laughing in the joyous moments of /now/, crying, smiling, running, hurting, praying, caring, hating. He heard all their tiny little sounds like a drum pounding in his ears, loud and present, demanding his full attention.
I can’t, he thought. It’s too much.
And it was. With each sound pulsing through him, his body began to ache to the point that he could feel himself beginning to tear apart like a million cuts opening up all over his body.
He had been mistaken.
It was true, as he had learned, that fate is not law. It can be broken, and without consequences.
But this time, fate was right.
He bled. He bled his soul out from all over himself. And he could feel it seeping away as he tried to open his eyes, but could not.
And it went on and on, as if it would never end, until, finally, he faded away.
all the aliens in the whole universe need water vapor. very few have it. that’s why they want to come invade earth. but if they invade the planet in the wrong way they will make all the vapor disappear completely and then so kill everything in the universe,
the end.
billie piper
just like water vapor,
she slipped through my fingers,
and into the atmosphere.
sometimes,
when I feel the rain on my skin,
I know that she’s thinking of me too.
She stared at the wall. No it wasn’t the wall, exactly. It was a spot just in front of the wall. Where the love of her life had stood just a few seconds ago, before he said goodbye and disappeared into vapour.
from the vapor, the knives rained down like the heralding of the apocalypse, and screams filled the air. physiolomancy, the men shouted, fruitlessly trying to shoot the mist from the air. the enemy had an archmage, they cried, but the cries were cut short by a gurgling sounds of humans choking on their own blood.
“What do you mean, you heard something? What kind of thing?”
“Shh-!”
“Amber!”
My partner gave me a look, while holding up her handheld scanner, checking for any heat signatures. “You could show a little more brains, Mish.” Her glare softened, faintly. “We’re hunting The Vapor. There is a reason they call her, ‘The Vapor’ would you like to take a guess why?”
The vapor from the shower is like a protective shield. Minutes before I was standing in streams of hot water trying to wash away the feeling drowning me, but my tears merely mixed with the water until my body was empty. Shampoo and soap struggled to replace the void in my heart with scents. Vanilla and sweet mango, sweet peas and candied apples, pulling me someplace else so my spirit can take a breath, touch a piece of something no words are required to express. The escape offers colors in scents and bubbles to ease me into another world. For a few precious moments, I am taken somewhere I feel welcomed and wanted and ‘the real me.’ Stepping out from between the curtains, my soles and toes nestle deep in terrycloth bristles, my body sighs wrapped in a thick toweled hug–I inhale the vapor that clings in the air letting it feed my hope for something better to hold me next.
The next morning, the ground was hazy with a strange sort of vapor that had appeared overnight. It hovered inches above the ground, the same color and consistency as mist, except the grass beneath it was slowly turning brown and papery, and several squirrel carcasses had been spotted through its swirling white fingers.
Citizens were advised not to touch the vapor with their bare skin. They donned gloves, long sleeves and boots like it was the middle of dead winter and not early fall, and they attempted to go about their day as usual. Betty, in the Daily’s Sports department, complained loudly that if the poisonous vapor did not evaporate by this evening, she wouldn’t be able to wear her favorite blue pumps to her date with Luis (from the Society department). But, all in all, they’d each seen and endured far worse.
But after a while, her confidence grew into arrogance, and even hostility. Any attempt by her mother to disagree with her, or give advice, and her rational, balanced demeanor disappeared like vapor, to be replaced by a short tempered, wildly unstable tempest of abuse an foul language. Having spent so long being controlled by her “father”, she had lost the ability to control herself.
tonykeyesjapan
I am too tired to think about vapors. Or vapor. What about Vick’s Vapor Rub? I hated the smell of that stuff but its coldness was rather soothing whenever I had a chest cold. Which, come to think of it, seemed fairly often in my childhood. Probably because I swam in the tepid, sewage-infested waters of the bay. But I stand firm by the fact that such play helped boost my immune system later in life, even if I do have that nervous twitch.
Something i have yet to try. I breathe in eucalyptus in my past. Today’s smell is earthier, sweet wood and fire. It won’t hurt my lungs, condensing in my throat, “you’re not a child anymore.”
A hiss of steam rises sweetly from the overturned coffee mug. How long ago had it spilled?
Whose footprints leave trails in its spilled contents, and why had they fled so quickly?
OG
He is the vapor on my skin, the vapor rising up from the ground and the bodies decay, vaporizing into nothing. He is the ghost of a touch on my arm, the wind in my hair when I run, when I run far, far away from the place where hell came crashing down. He is the vapor in the air that I breathe, the molecules of dust and dirt my lungs must filter out and expel as I heave and stumble over myself, over my feelings, over my missing heart as I realize, he’s vaporizing away, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do.
The smoke’s rising up, rising up and up and up and up, and he can’t take it. It’s hot, filling his nose with the dank scent of death. His vision is skewed, and there’s no way out. Like vapor, filling his lungs until it all goes for naught, bringing him closer to death and letting him waste precious seconds of the time he has to be alive, time that might run out soon, and he’s not aware of it.
The vapor’s in his face, and it’s cloying with hurt.
the swam came into view as I stepped around the large tree trunk. Vapors rose from the water and made the edge of the swamp seem close by. I wondered why I left my cell phone back in the car.
Mama Carden
Never before had I seen such a thing. My friend called it ‘vapor’, but I knew it was more than that. I knew that it meant that the world as we knew it, could no longer be.
Lee
It all turned into vapor. The mess I created suddenly evaporated into the air and rose, seemingly gone. But it is a cycle. So eventually, the mess will come back raining down, harder and more intense than ever.
I watched the water in your glass slowly become less and less as we sat there talking. it being more interesting than the conversation coming passing from your lips. I didn’t want to here it al,l the excuses, the reasons, and lies that I’ve herd a thousand times. I’d rather sit there watching vapor.
Dry ice coats my throat as I inhale. He walks along beside me, sending spirals through the vaporous air. Lights shoot through the mist in time with the base rattling my chest.
Vapor that’s what I wish I was. I feel so thick and heavy. Heavy with doubt and lack of health. Heavy with heart ache and loneliness and grief for a life I used to love that is now gone forever. He sent me to the bottom of the ocean with this heavy weight attached. If only he’d set me on fire and let me rise up like vapor and smoke
whitney
The toxic vapor floated into the air around me, filling my lungs angrily. I felt suffocated, broken. I gripped my chest and a choking nose escaped my mouth as I struggled to find air.
I need to get it all out of my head
and I need it to be as quick as water
becomes vapor with uncertainty
about it’s decision
it’s metamorphosis
SO many things rush to my mind. Something with all the senses. My personal favorite is the thought of a vaporizer. Because I always become instantly obsessed with smoke in all of its unshapely glory, so free and flawless.
“Oh!” Lady Beatrice swooned onto the lounge chair, somehow arranging her skirts around her neatly, “I’m having vapors!”
Lady Darcy snorted behind her lacy fan, disbelief of the others theatrics written large over her features. Lord Mintz glanced at her, amusement quirking up a corner of his lips before Lady Beatrice, seeing that her supposed vapors weren’t bringing in the attention to her like she planned, moaned louder, “That mongrel was so frightening!”
“What’s condensation?” Myra whined. Her hands clad in obnoxiously orange bracelets gripped the edges of her 5th grade science textbook in frustration.
Beth took in a deep breath and smiled politely. She had to. “I already explained this to you, sweetie. It’s water vapor. The change in a state of matter from a gaseous phase to liquid.”
The young girl stared squinty eyed at her tutor as though Beth had just stolen the last pair of capri shorts from Justice. “I don’t get that,” she sassed. Pulling out her iphone (Really? Were fifth graders already allowed to have cell phones? Spoiled brat.) she began texting some of her friends about God knows what.
“Myra, you’ve already failed two of your science tests this year. You want to make it to junior high school, right?”
She flipped her bangs from her face and surrendered the phone face down on the desk. “yeah,” she muttered.
Beth stared at Myra, wondering how on earth she was going to get through to this girl. Beth had just graduated high school and needed to make some extra money before going off to Berry college. She could finally be an equestrian and only worry about horses. Not people. Much less whiney thirteen year olds. “I know you’re smart. I know you try at things,” Beth gave the squinty eyes right back at her younger counterpart, “I’ve seen all those doodles in your notebook and they’re good. Wizards and witches and stuff. Did you make it all up?”
“Why do you care?” Myra muttered under her breath.
The tutor reached over to Myra’s notebook with Justin Bieber’s face staring at her from the front cover. She flipped to a few bullet points she’d taken during class about the American Revolution bordered by a beautiful depiction of a boy with round glasses wearing a robe. “Who is this?” she inquired gently.
Myra’s reaction was unexpected. The “my way or the highway” bold face melted to reveal tear vapor welling up in her eyes. “I read Harry Potter, ok?” she confessed. “a few kids at school found out and they make fun of me.” She began to sniffle. “I’m a NERD,” she wailed.
Beth took a quick glance out the window to make sure Myra’s parents weren’t pulling up in the driveway. She didn’t want them to arrive home to the sight of their daughter in tears. They were no nonsense folks. And they drove a mercedes.
“I’ll bet J.K. Rowling was a nerd.”
Myra wiped her nose with her sleeve. “How would you know?”
Beth shrugged. “She’d have to be. To invent all that.”
Myra began reapplying pink lip gloss that she’d whipped out of her backpack. “But I’ll bet the kids didn’t throw her books on the ground.”
“Listen, sweetie. Every doctor, lawyer, entrepreneur… everybody who ever worked hard at something was a nerd. Newton, the Wright Brothers, Van Gogh. Without them we wouldn’t have physics or planes or, you know, good art. Nerds are what make the world the way it is. The kids who just skate by aren’t going anywhere.” She felt as though she were preaching to herself. But Myra was soaking in every word.
“Were you a nerd?” She whispered.
“Still am. How many competitive horse riders do you think live in Illinois?”
Myra smiled, exposing her missing molar in the back right corner of her mouth. She closed her notebook and pressed it against her chest.
Just when Beth thought she’d brought on a pivotal moment of self confidence in the life of an adolescent, Myra demanded, “Who was Van Gough?”
Once again, Beth sighed. “We’ll finish learning about water vapor first. Then, I’ll brush you up on art history.”
The swamp’s water looked strange in the morning light, almost like it was moving. Upon closer inspection, we could see acid green vapor writhing in thick, serpentine billows from the surface of the water.
Curling. Rising up from the edges. Exiting the cage and entering the expanse. With it rose the heat. The heat, a reminder of each grueling day, each grudging morning. It brought warmth to all it could reach; it was welcome on this cold winter day. The vapor brought with it wakefulness—or was it the liquid from which it stemmed?
I watched the mist clear slowly. It was cold and I didn’t quite know what to do other than stand there dumbly in my out-of-season outfit. The vapor gathered and condensed on my shoulders and drip to the creases of my elbows
There was a slight mist hanging over the swamp as Jimmy made his way through the muck. Suddenly he heard a scream behind him. He turned and saw a bloodied girl holding a knife ready to stab him. Last thing he saw was her blue bloodshot eyes that had no soul behind them.
It had come, the time was here for me to resist rising to the fate I’d long postponed. I had to make it to her first. I had to say good bye. I ran. As everything darkened around me and death’s shadow chased me, I ran. I had to hug my mother one last time. I had to say goodbye.
I breathed deeply, the distinct scent of vapor rub soothing my aching mind just as much if not more than my equally aching muscles.
Air trickling onto your back like so much cool condensation on the glass surface of your diamond cut body
A sculpture lining a path
A marble frame that doesn’t need to know where it is going
Pointing through the fog for the passing to follow
Immobile with beading vapor on petrified skin
Dreams, a misty haze, a thin fog, clouding the eyes, condensation on the window from our mingling breaths. The sun comes out to play and it all vanishes. For those 5 minutes I can believe we are friends, but when the door closes and I turn my back, everything turns to vapors floating to the sky, and I am just an imagination again
it soaked into the air , forming a cloud. It was ready to see all the little people down there. It liked hitting the people who scared spit, or the person crying. because somehow that rain droplet was a vapor at one point, and it is a part of your story.
He stepped up to the just-barely-open door and hunched over, catching his breath from the long walk up the never-ending steps.
The long walk to heaven, he thought. God, that’s lame, he thought.
He stood up straight. Composed himself, wiping the sweat from his brow.
He swallowed, and prepared for the rest of what would come.
He stepped through the doorway. As it swung open, its aged frame no longer the gold it used to be, it creaked quietly. Just a little warning for who or what awaited beyond.
But a warning was not necessary.
It had waited, a long, long time.
Longer than the chain events that led him here had taken place. Before they were even propagated by fate.
But, what was fate? Not much. That much he had learned.
He took a step through the doorway and into the space beyond.
He stood there, gripping the handle, and looked on in awe.
Everything ahead of him was star-like. There were not any physical features to the world, or whatever it was. It was just /there/.
He looked behind him and could see the old hallway that had begun falling apart far before he was born. At the end of it, the treacherous stairs that lead back down from whence he came. Back to his old life. To secrets unearthed. To friends waiting, hopeful he would return. To friends waiting beneath the earth, hopeful they never met again. To all the answers he had discovered. To certainty. To affirmation and confirmation.
To security.
But he could not. Try as he did, he pushed with all his will. He wanted to run. Run back down those stairs, back to everyone and everything he knew and held dear. Even to the fearfulness and danger. He wanted with all of himself to see their faces.
But he stood, longing, paralyzed, his hand gripping the doorknob until finally there was nothing else to do.
He shut the door behind him. It faded away, the doorknob disappearing from his grip.
There was not /a/ direction to go. This place was directionless. Forever and infinitely vast no matter where he may look. And at the same time everything was so close to him, perpetually small to the point of almost not existing.
So he just breathed.
He would know when it was right to do /something/. Whatever that something may be. He would know that too when it was right to know.
So he just stood, breathing, and closed his eyes.
The sounds of the world beyond washed over him unexpectedly with such force that he nearly fell to his feet. But there was no where to fall. Not here.
He could hear it all. Everything and everyone going about their lives. Hoping for better tomorrows, laughing in the joyous moments of /now/, crying, smiling, running, hurting, praying, caring, hating. He heard all their tiny little sounds like a drum pounding in his ears, loud and present, demanding his full attention.
I can’t, he thought. It’s too much.
And it was. With each sound pulsing through him, his body began to ache to the point that he could feel himself beginning to tear apart like a million cuts opening up all over his body.
He had been mistaken.
It was true, as he had learned, that fate is not law. It can be broken, and without consequences.
But this time, fate was right.
He bled. He bled his soul out from all over himself. And he could feel it seeping away as he tried to open his eyes, but could not.
And it went on and on, as if it would never end, until, finally, he faded away.
all the aliens in the whole universe need water vapor. very few have it. that’s why they want to come invade earth. but if they invade the planet in the wrong way they will make all the vapor disappear completely and then so kill everything in the universe,
the end.
just like water vapor,
she slipped through my fingers,
and into the atmosphere.
sometimes,
when I feel the rain on my skin,
I know that she’s thinking of me too.
She stared at the wall. No it wasn’t the wall, exactly. It was a spot just in front of the wall. Where the love of her life had stood just a few seconds ago, before he said goodbye and disappeared into vapour.
it never occured to them that this could happen.
from the vapor, the knives rained down like the heralding of the apocalypse, and screams filled the air. physiolomancy, the men shouted, fruitlessly trying to shoot the mist from the air. the enemy had an archmage, they cried, but the cries were cut short by a gurgling sounds of humans choking on their own blood.
“What is it?”
“I heard something.”
“What do you mean, you heard something? What kind of thing?”
“Shh-!”
“Amber!”
My partner gave me a look, while holding up her handheld scanner, checking for any heat signatures. “You could show a little more brains, Mish.” Her glare softened, faintly. “We’re hunting The Vapor. There is a reason they call her, ‘The Vapor’ would you like to take a guess why?”
The vapor from the shower is like a protective shield. Minutes before I was standing in streams of hot water trying to wash away the feeling drowning me, but my tears merely mixed with the water until my body was empty. Shampoo and soap struggled to replace the void in my heart with scents. Vanilla and sweet mango, sweet peas and candied apples, pulling me someplace else so my spirit can take a breath, touch a piece of something no words are required to express. The escape offers colors in scents and bubbles to ease me into another world. For a few precious moments, I am taken somewhere I feel welcomed and wanted and ‘the real me.’ Stepping out from between the curtains, my soles and toes nestle deep in terrycloth bristles, my body sighs wrapped in a thick toweled hug–I inhale the vapor that clings in the air letting it feed my hope for something better to hold me next.
The vapor rose in thin jets and curtains, twisting about itself with infinite progression before slowly dissipating in the cool morning breeze.
I looked at the laser rifle in my hands, then back at the small and strangely prosaic pile of ash at the foot of the stairs.
The next morning, the ground was hazy with a strange sort of vapor that had appeared overnight. It hovered inches above the ground, the same color and consistency as mist, except the grass beneath it was slowly turning brown and papery, and several squirrel carcasses had been spotted through its swirling white fingers.
Citizens were advised not to touch the vapor with their bare skin. They donned gloves, long sleeves and boots like it was the middle of dead winter and not early fall, and they attempted to go about their day as usual. Betty, in the Daily’s Sports department, complained loudly that if the poisonous vapor did not evaporate by this evening, she wouldn’t be able to wear her favorite blue pumps to her date with Luis (from the Society department). But, all in all, they’d each seen and endured far worse.
But after a while, her confidence grew into arrogance, and even hostility. Any attempt by her mother to disagree with her, or give advice, and her rational, balanced demeanor disappeared like vapor, to be replaced by a short tempered, wildly unstable tempest of abuse an foul language. Having spent so long being controlled by her “father”, she had lost the ability to control herself.
I am too tired to think about vapors. Or vapor. What about Vick’s Vapor Rub? I hated the smell of that stuff but its coldness was rather soothing whenever I had a chest cold. Which, come to think of it, seemed fairly often in my childhood. Probably because I swam in the tepid, sewage-infested waters of the bay. But I stand firm by the fact that such play helped boost my immune system later in life, even if I do have that nervous twitch.
Something i have yet to try. I breathe in eucalyptus in my past. Today’s smell is earthier, sweet wood and fire. It won’t hurt my lungs, condensing in my throat, “you’re not a child anymore.”
A hiss of steam rises sweetly from the overturned coffee mug. How long ago had it spilled?
Whose footprints leave trails in its spilled contents, and why had they fled so quickly?
He is the vapor on my skin, the vapor rising up from the ground and the bodies decay, vaporizing into nothing. He is the ghost of a touch on my arm, the wind in my hair when I run, when I run far, far away from the place where hell came crashing down. He is the vapor in the air that I breathe, the molecules of dust and dirt my lungs must filter out and expel as I heave and stumble over myself, over my feelings, over my missing heart as I realize, he’s vaporizing away, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do.
The smoke’s rising up, rising up and up and up and up, and he can’t take it. It’s hot, filling his nose with the dank scent of death. His vision is skewed, and there’s no way out. Like vapor, filling his lungs until it all goes for naught, bringing him closer to death and letting him waste precious seconds of the time he has to be alive, time that might run out soon, and he’s not aware of it.
The vapor’s in his face, and it’s cloying with hurt.
the swam came into view as I stepped around the large tree trunk. Vapors rose from the water and made the edge of the swamp seem close by. I wondered why I left my cell phone back in the car.
Never before had I seen such a thing. My friend called it ‘vapor’, but I knew it was more than that. I knew that it meant that the world as we knew it, could no longer be.
It all turned into vapor. The mess I created suddenly evaporated into the air and rose, seemingly gone. But it is a cycle. So eventually, the mess will come back raining down, harder and more intense than ever.
we played 20 questions during dinner
no one asked if i was ready
i could relapse
i’m so scared to call it easy
we played 20 questions during dinner
no one asked if i was ready
i could relapse
i’m so scared to call it easy
She was like vapor. Nothing could contain her. You closed the door, thought she was inside, but then you look behind you and find her there.
I watched the water in your glass slowly become less and less as we sat there talking. it being more interesting than the conversation coming passing from your lips. I didn’t want to here it al,l the excuses, the reasons, and lies that I’ve herd a thousand times. I’d rather sit there watching vapor.
Vapor poured from the top of the beaker. One more vial of solvent and the solution would be complete.
The lab instructor stood before the class. He was peeing his pants in excitement. The lab would explode in only a moment.
Dry ice coats my throat as I inhale. He walks along beside me, sending spirals through the vaporous air. Lights shoot through the mist in time with the base rattling my chest.
Vapor, I got nothin’ today. Vapor, vapor, vapor, vapor, vapor, & vapor!
Vapor that’s what I wish I was. I feel so thick and heavy. Heavy with doubt and lack of health. Heavy with heart ache and loneliness and grief for a life I used to love that is now gone forever. He sent me to the bottom of the ocean with this heavy weight attached. If only he’d set me on fire and let me rise up like vapor and smoke
The toxic vapor floated into the air around me, filling my lungs angrily. I felt suffocated, broken. I gripped my chest and a choking nose escaped my mouth as I struggled to find air.