Cruel Town
23 December 2008 by Rosel
I am a cappuccino in the making, double shot + skim milk in a styrofoam cup topped with a poser steamed-milk foam created by a wanna be espresso-maker in a vending machine, 3.50 USD for the whole package, with a splenda on the side. I turn cold easily, and my foam disappears as soon as soon as your lips touch the cup, for the signs of a herpes break-out conspicuously disguise themselves as blood rushing into frozen facial arteries.
I am a cigarette about to be smoked, the upturned cancer stick in the pack, so stacked that the brown leaves begin a quarter of an inch into the rolled-up paper. I burn easily as the dying sparks of your lighter make contact, my ashes refuse to fall as you drag lungful after lungful. All that is left now is a butt, pure filter, you feel light-headed, your first time.
I am a bottle of clear small water, of unknown origin, of unkown home, in a plastic Zephyrhills bottle. I am tastless but your throat recoils, cold but your cheeks turn red, water but your breath reeks. It doesn't snow here, you know, but even I wish it did. Free ice. Piss on it, free neon ice. I don't freeze, and together, we shall make blood flow easier, and you won't need me, the cappuccino, and the train tracks might feel a little bit fluffier, the gravel a bit warmer.
I am your friend, God and Satan, Jesus and Judas.
I am your friend.
Merry Christmas.
I am a cigarette about to be smoked, the upturned cancer stick in the pack, so stacked that the brown leaves begin a quarter of an inch into the rolled-up paper. I burn easily as the dying sparks of your lighter make contact, my ashes refuse to fall as you drag lungful after lungful. All that is left now is a butt, pure filter, you feel light-headed, your first time.
I am a bottle of clear small water, of unknown origin, of unkown home, in a plastic Zephyrhills bottle. I am tastless but your throat recoils, cold but your cheeks turn red, water but your breath reeks. It doesn't snow here, you know, but even I wish it did. Free ice. Piss on it, free neon ice. I don't freeze, and together, we shall make blood flow easier, and you won't need me, the cappuccino, and the train tracks might feel a little bit fluffier, the gravel a bit warmer.
I am your friend, God and Satan, Jesus and Judas.
I am your friend.
Merry Christmas.
