Back and forth. Forth and back.
The pills rattled a long remembered song of consequences, of demands spiked by the nature of unstable beasts. They tumbled so carelessly in the small gap of the orange bottle, with it's sickeningly white top. Free falling before striking up that tempo of clattering when they all collectively tumbled a top one another.
It was a recycled movement. Controlled by the thin, fragile looking panels of her fingers.
Back and forth. Forth and back.
She watched, in a trance, as they spilled upside down and right side up. She could count each one over and over again, the lulling of reminiscence; at their core was a Wonderland that she had frequented often enough to know the land. A pioneer who forgot about the crushingly heavy blow reality had dealt her and went spelunking in the labyrinth of her own made up world.
One, two, three -- four, five, nine, eleven --
Back and forth. Forth and back.
She recalled how long it had been since she had tasted the wicked consensual intimacy that came with being folded away behind lids, drawing out slow breaths, feeling sensations that did not exist. She conjured up the flashbacks of flat lining from the here and now and waking up anew in a whole separate universe. Her reflection in the mirror, so dazed and out of touch. Her smiles that hadn't been dragged through the fires but seemed as lethargic as a dying man. It was harder to dig past the first layer and grab at the jugular of the real feast; her affairs that were animated beneath neon lights, the loud background music that smothered vicious fights, or the way the asphalt felt like cotton beneath her feet once she stepped out to breathe foul, city air.
Back and forth. Forth and back.
How simpler that age was. Of wild behavior that was looked down upon by souls who had climbed the stairs to heaven. She would always just be another urban animal to those types, one who rooted in the mud and dirt for just a small piece of control over all the stygian parts she felt inside herself. She not only threw caution to the wind but hadn't heralded that term as anything that mattered for the longest time. The very things that made sound an echo in her head, bottled up between her rotating fingers, being such a comfort. Being the only comfort.
Back and forth. Forth and back.
Now was an era of doing what was right and not turning her back on what she had become. Challenged into a corner to face off with the demons who had never been exorcised from her own bones, not able to pretend that they had not survived every fire she had cleansed herself with. These were the days of being meant for more than being prisoner in an ivory tower, made almost entirely of the very pills that were whispering sweet nothings to her now. She had been given a second chance to enable her early status as being thrown to the wolves. Wolves that she commanded now with out the steamrolling of illegal forget-me-nots in her oiled wiring.
Back and forth. Forth and back.
But what if she could return to the promise of Oz and face no consequences? To dive back down beneath the back draft of wildstorms and deliver herself back to the womb of euphoria. She had suckled on the breast of addiction for so long that she knew the routes well, could navigate herself back to that moment. To that place. It seemed like so far away, all the miles she had traveled, to come face to face once more with the same temptation that haunted her psyche.
Back and forth. Forth and back.
She could give up the secrets, resort to being the epitome of a unexceptional courtesan, find the small will to lick up the spine of every monster that offered her a hand -- She could be with out that loneliness of realizing that she was nothing but a shell, a made-up costume, for all to see. There would be no code to uphold, no revenge to seek on a family she never knew. Nothing would threaten her existence.
Except for herself.
Back and forth. Forth and ba--
Ayo, Peaches -- you here? I brought you home a parfait.
Stillness reset in her finger tips. The pills caught in a limbo at the center of the bottle which was carefully slid back beneath the heavy skin of her mattress.
"Yea', I'll be out in a minute!"
It was then that she realized she had been crying.
The pills rattled a long remembered song of consequences, of demands spiked by the nature of unstable beasts. They tumbled so carelessly in the small gap of the orange bottle, with it's sickeningly white top. Free falling before striking up that tempo of clattering when they all collectively tumbled a top one another.
It was a recycled movement. Controlled by the thin, fragile looking panels of her fingers.
Back and forth. Forth and back.
She watched, in a trance, as they spilled upside down and right side up. She could count each one over and over again, the lulling of reminiscence; at their core was a Wonderland that she had frequented often enough to know the land. A pioneer who forgot about the crushingly heavy blow reality had dealt her and went spelunking in the labyrinth of her own made up world.
One, two, three -- four, five, nine, eleven --
Back and forth. Forth and back.
She recalled how long it had been since she had tasted the wicked consensual intimacy that came with being folded away behind lids, drawing out slow breaths, feeling sensations that did not exist. She conjured up the flashbacks of flat lining from the here and now and waking up anew in a whole separate universe. Her reflection in the mirror, so dazed and out of touch. Her smiles that hadn't been dragged through the fires but seemed as lethargic as a dying man. It was harder to dig past the first layer and grab at the jugular of the real feast; her affairs that were animated beneath neon lights, the loud background music that smothered vicious fights, or the way the asphalt felt like cotton beneath her feet once she stepped out to breathe foul, city air.
Back and forth. Forth and back.
How simpler that age was. Of wild behavior that was looked down upon by souls who had climbed the stairs to heaven. She would always just be another urban animal to those types, one who rooted in the mud and dirt for just a small piece of control over all the stygian parts she felt inside herself. She not only threw caution to the wind but hadn't heralded that term as anything that mattered for the longest time. The very things that made sound an echo in her head, bottled up between her rotating fingers, being such a comfort. Being the only comfort.
Back and forth. Forth and back.
Now was an era of doing what was right and not turning her back on what she had become. Challenged into a corner to face off with the demons who had never been exorcised from her own bones, not able to pretend that they had not survived every fire she had cleansed herself with. These were the days of being meant for more than being prisoner in an ivory tower, made almost entirely of the very pills that were whispering sweet nothings to her now. She had been given a second chance to enable her early status as being thrown to the wolves. Wolves that she commanded now with out the steamrolling of illegal forget-me-nots in her oiled wiring.
Back and forth. Forth and back.
But what if she could return to the promise of Oz and face no consequences? To dive back down beneath the back draft of wildstorms and deliver herself back to the womb of euphoria. She had suckled on the breast of addiction for so long that she knew the routes well, could navigate herself back to that moment. To that place. It seemed like so far away, all the miles she had traveled, to come face to face once more with the same temptation that haunted her psyche.
Back and forth. Forth and back.
She could give up the secrets, resort to being the epitome of a unexceptional courtesan, find the small will to lick up the spine of every monster that offered her a hand -- She could be with out that loneliness of realizing that she was nothing but a shell, a made-up costume, for all to see. There would be no code to uphold, no revenge to seek on a family she never knew. Nothing would threaten her existence.
Except for herself.
Back and forth. Forth and ba--
Ayo, Peaches -- you here? I brought you home a parfait.
Stillness reset in her finger tips. The pills caught in a limbo at the center of the bottle which was carefully slid back beneath the heavy skin of her mattress.
"Yea', I'll be out in a minute!"
It was then that she realized she had been crying.