The Flower's Boy
❀Burst❀
Skin. Bones. Parched parted lips beckoning for more. Always more. Nothing beats the first time, why is that nothing beats the first time? “Please.” He's down on his knees, hands at the buckle of his dealer's pants. Dead glossy eyes look up. Smile. The man is smiling and words fall off of his tongue as he pats his pocket.
He's toying with him. No one needs to understand words really, you can tell by the eyes. You can tell by the judgment hidden beneath the colored irises and dilated pupils. Hypocritical judgment, but it can be endured for the ride... for what happens after this humiliation.
A hand twists in the matted dull hair. Hungry moans escape both mouths. The exhaled breath mixes with the cold September night air. One craves the lust, while the other the drug in the pocket. That's why they are perfect for one another.
Heart races as the other reaches his climax. After falling on the wet-cold ground from being pushed a small bag lands in his lap. The bag is smaller than the last time. It always seems to get less and less, but less is better than none. Some is better than nothing at all. Nothing at all.
Scrambling he leaves, muttering thank yous along the way. His weakened legs don't carry him far, but that's okay. Soon he'll be soaring. Flying with the wings of the flower. Through the depths of the sky. That's what he's looking for, just like when it began. Maybe tonight will be the night. The night that he flies again.
His ribcage rattles as the smoke fills his lungs. The heat on his lips is comforting. It doesn't take long for the muscles to relax and for the heart to slow down to only a low strum of irregular beats. Detached from the world he begins to float. This was his last chance and now he's free. Cold, no longer breathing, but free.
He's toying with him. No one needs to understand words really, you can tell by the eyes. You can tell by the judgment hidden beneath the colored irises and dilated pupils. Hypocritical judgment, but it can be endured for the ride... for what happens after this humiliation.
A hand twists in the matted dull hair. Hungry moans escape both mouths. The exhaled breath mixes with the cold September night air. One craves the lust, while the other the drug in the pocket. That's why they are perfect for one another.
Heart races as the other reaches his climax. After falling on the wet-cold ground from being pushed a small bag lands in his lap. The bag is smaller than the last time. It always seems to get less and less, but less is better than none. Some is better than nothing at all. Nothing at all.
Scrambling he leaves, muttering thank yous along the way. His weakened legs don't carry him far, but that's okay. Soon he'll be soaring. Flying with the wings of the flower. Through the depths of the sky. That's what he's looking for, just like when it began. Maybe tonight will be the night. The night that he flies again.
His ribcage rattles as the smoke fills his lungs. The heat on his lips is comforting. It doesn't take long for the muscles to relax and for the heart to slow down to only a low strum of irregular beats. Detached from the world he begins to float. This was his last chance and now he's free. Cold, no longer breathing, but free.
♠ ♠ ♠
Weird mood. Weird thoughts.