There’s darkness crawling through his heart, he keeps it at
bay, but lately it’s been climbing up the back of his throat. Sprawling its
tendrils into his mind, whispering the things he doesn’t want to hear. He’ll
think of it as a warning, holding his cigarette between those thin lips like a
flag, asking to bring it on. Asking to show him what the world has to offer
just so he can spit back in its face. His thoughts are measured and through
those half-lidded mint eyes I can tell he’s got life by the balls, but he doesn’t
know what to do with it.
(c) Shelby Williams 2015
