Cold Thoughts
Charlie is trying something right now, and I'm honored to get to be a part of it. And lucky You! you get to peek into little windows like this one!
Joe stepped out into the cold December air and looked up to the bone white moon. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a cigarette and flameless lighter, bringing the smoke to his lips. He closes his eyes as he ignites the end, opening them as he takes a slow drag, watching the smoke slowly lick out as he holds the majority of the smoke just in his mouth. The landscape is like that, pale, ephemeral, colorless, like Twilight. He looks down to the snow covered ground, the footprints telling of his treks to and from the building, and hers, a single set of smaller footprints that trail from the house to the Temple, but do not return.
As the walls are closing in
and all colors fade to black
That person is going away. She is dissolving in the nothing contained in the space of a barrel, the Void behind her eyes, the Darkness that is her Birthright...
As my eyes are falling fast and deeper into me.
Joe could feel the fear in her that first night, feel it swell, feel it radiate like a sun, feel it burning, crying, begging for release, beginning not to be extinguished. Joe had stood there in the dark, jaw clenched, his thoughts purposefully set on some simple, repeating task, forced to obfuscate his real worries, and the ache that echoed hollow in his dead, black, heart.
He inhaled a hard draw on the cig and blew back out, watching the smoke curl outward into the dying air, imagining that it was swirls of ash and blood and hair flowing around Natalie’s face, her perfect, ivoried skin. Joe pulled the cigarette from his mouth and flicked it high into the night air, impossibly so, the glowing ember making a tall graceful arc, as though a shooting star, before being snuffed out in the deathly cold embrace of the snow coated horizon.
A notion bubbled up from somewhere, perhaps his own blood (or hers within?) that whispers despaired thoughts, he was killing her, using her and extinguishing the remainder like… like… .
And I wonder sometimes, when I see all the sadness and pain
the truth brings to light.
Joe clamped down on his mind, shunting such thoughts to the darkest corners as he strode back up to the house, whisps of steam and smoke rolling up from wet tobacco left untended in the night.
If I cried thee a river of all my confessions
would I drown in my shallow regret?
Joe stepped out into the cold December air and looked up to the bone white moon. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a cigarette and flameless lighter, bringing the smoke to his lips. He closes his eyes as he ignites the end, opening them as he takes a slow drag, watching the smoke slowly lick out as he holds the majority of the smoke just in his mouth. The landscape is like that, pale, ephemeral, colorless, like Twilight. He looks down to the snow covered ground, the footprints telling of his treks to and from the building, and hers, a single set of smaller footprints that trail from the house to the Temple, but do not return.
As the walls are closing in
and all colors fade to black
That person is going away. She is dissolving in the nothing contained in the space of a barrel, the Void behind her eyes, the Darkness that is her Birthright...
As my eyes are falling fast and deeper into me.
Joe could feel the fear in her that first night, feel it swell, feel it radiate like a sun, feel it burning, crying, begging for release, beginning not to be extinguished. Joe had stood there in the dark, jaw clenched, his thoughts purposefully set on some simple, repeating task, forced to obfuscate his real worries, and the ache that echoed hollow in his dead, black, heart.
He inhaled a hard draw on the cig and blew back out, watching the smoke curl outward into the dying air, imagining that it was swirls of ash and blood and hair flowing around Natalie’s face, her perfect, ivoried skin. Joe pulled the cigarette from his mouth and flicked it high into the night air, impossibly so, the glowing ember making a tall graceful arc, as though a shooting star, before being snuffed out in the deathly cold embrace of the snow coated horizon.
A notion bubbled up from somewhere, perhaps his own blood (or hers within?) that whispers despaired thoughts, he was killing her, using her and extinguishing the remainder like… like… .
And I wonder sometimes, when I see all the sadness and pain
the truth brings to light.
Joe clamped down on his mind, shunting such thoughts to the darkest corners as he strode back up to the house, whisps of steam and smoke rolling up from wet tobacco left untended in the night.
If I cried thee a river of all my confessions
would I drown in my shallow regret?