“My life is great yeah I’m just being a bit, a bit drunk like. Haha don’t worry bout it I’m fine me like life’s fine.”
Half hooded eyes and heavy lips. Breast to breast, his face disappearing over my shoulder and my head over his. Dim lit, damp, slick, moist, moulding room it is. Stale breath loaded with unuttered words, and the walls stuffed too tight with syllables.
We go outside.
We breath cigarettes and they chat about children dying. Waxen weens wrought with tumours, eaten from the inside by illogical parasites that suck at their marrow. Becoming gooey jello in a kid shaped skin molds.
“I’m not allowed to feel bad. So many people have it so much worse off dude, you know? Like, we’re living the dream. We got everything. We got cigarettes and beer and I have a girlfriend and you have your face and we have all these things.”
They assume that dying is more difficult than living.
Half hooded eyes and heavy lips. Breast to breast, his face disappearing over my shoulder and my head over his. Dim lit, damp, slick, moist, moulding room it is. Stale breath loaded with unuttered words, and the walls stuffed too tight with syllables.
We go outside.
We breath cigarettes and they chat about children dying. Waxen weens wrought with tumours, eaten from the inside by illogical parasites that suck at their marrow. Becoming gooey jello in a kid shaped skin molds.
“I’m not allowed to feel bad. So many people have it so much worse off dude, you know? Like, we’re living the dream. We got everything. We got cigarettes and beer and I have a girlfriend and you have your face and we have all these things.”
They assume that dying is more difficult than living.