Silence

Silence. Nothing. Just silence… but then the ticking of a watch…. And the low hum of the ac… also the rustle of wind passing through the nearby tree outside. Nothing. Just silence

Artificial

Laughter; an over exaggerated artificial laugh radiated throughout the room; the kind you hear on old sitcoms after a mediocre joke. That was it. Her life was a mediocre joke, it's laughter resonated throughout her loft reflected in her furniture, her high tech possessions. Her name brand clothes. It was all sitcom laughter. Depressing. Disappointing. Sickening. Artificial... 

Thirsty Thursdayze

Thirsty Thursday. In an alcohol induced haze. The gin and tonic caressing your mind, shielding it from worries. An endearing peaceful smirk inches across your face. Footsteps coming closer. She looked up. Damn, another awkward drunk trying to get laid. 
"so I noticed you smiled at me."
 Seriously? What is with these guys so cocky that they think every glance or alcohol induced smirk clearly has to have been directed at them.
 "so why are you sitting alone?" 
"'cause I prefer it" (and I prefer you to catch the hint and go away). She smiled to herself about her recent thought. 
"you have a gorgeous smile."
"oh?". 
He obviously wasn't catch the hint. And now she had to endure his awkward flirting. It was painful to watch, like a train wreck, but there's nothing you can do when you're the one strapped to the train tracks. She looked down at her drink suddenly aware of how empty it was.

Nodding Off

The pulse of a muscle. The scent of stale sweat from another restless night. The Fading foggy haze of a dream interrupted by The screeching drone of the alarm clock. For how long? Pulse. Muscles and bones aching for the rest it was deprived of. Ignoring the alarm over my head and am dragged back into sleep.  Pulse. The sunlight creeps in and pulls at my eyelids. Suddenly aware of the continued drones of the alarm. Is that thing still going off? She sprang out from behind her down-filled cocoon and stretched the life into her arms fully exposed to the sunlight. A rejuvenating short exhale bring her the first true breath of the morning. She dragged her sleep paralyzed corpse over to the fridge and cracked open a pbr it was her reward for voluntarily getting up before noon.

Essence of Summer

In a passenger seat of a falling-apart car, speeding away from some`unknown dirty-ass town. The outside wind whisking through and rearranging my face and hair and putting out my cigarette. Illuminated from the cast of the sunset, dark outlines of telephone poles like gangily crosses along the empty farmlands and unkempt fields stare down forboddingly.
The orange traces of the sinking sun melded with purple haze of humidity humbles the appearance of everything it casts it's glow on leaving silhouettes in there wake. Sweet wild flowers and prairie grass drowning my nostrils and intoxicating; a tonic of tranquility and of past memories.
Darkness and the sound of night crawlers drowning out the hum of the car. The first fireflies of the season buzzing along the lonely country road like shooting stars, from the side view mirror, overhead in the night sky and within arms reach. No wish comes to mind.

Hangover

I was walking to class nursing a hangover, directing all focus on placing one foot in front of the other in a mechanical manner. Much harder than you think to maintain composure In the light of day when traces of the past nights indulgence are still evident to the naked eye no matter how many cups of coffee you chugged: the appearance of my clothes slightly off kilter, my skin still reaks of gin and cigarettes.

Last cigarette of the night

There something about a cigarette; the way your fingers caress the filter, the way cherry softly glows in the night air, the way the smoke drifts and traces a path of a drunkard like fading footsteps in the sky. It's not all about the nicotine... okay it is mostly about the nicotine.