God the midnight air made me feel something again. My body shivered under its warmth, growing goosebumps as the hot air licked my skin with relief. It was the first humanly feeling my body solicited in three days. And three days isn’t much really, it’s not long when you’re living. I mean 72 hours living, laughing, or loving slips past one in a matter of seconds. You’re dying to feel that way every next moment. Yet, when you’re dying with hopeless organs, time seems to crawl by like a lonesome hand dragging you to hell. It seems to creep by like a drugging sleep lasting days in dreams. And those three days, companion pleading hands pulled at me and those drugs slowed time like life would dreadfully last me forever. I watched buildings stretch and blur while I passed them at eighty miles an hour. Red lights seemed to never turn green until the sun came up. I saw the world stop spinning, stop breathing. I watched the saturated world turn a muted, gaunt gray. And then black, darker than a well of 300 feet. I watched myself deteriorate in the mirror, scrubbing my makeup stained and sleepless eyes until their sunken essence turned purple. I studied the scabbing holes in my arms where I dug my nails and the rawness of my lips where I had bitten them to hold back my tears. Save for that warm breeze glazing my skin and insides like icing, I felt nothing. Not exhaustion, not the breakage, but definitely not living.
The freeway breeze tried to spread its warmth throughout me, trying to retrieve my soul from hell’s grasp. A dark predestined war inside me, between a loveless cold and a fiery salvation, but it was the only feeling I’d had in days. The warmth screamed at me, begging me to tear free of hell’s hand and detox from the drugs. Yet I only sat like a helpless addict to the darkness, feeling its angelic influence tickle my veins as it leaked into me; burning the soul breaking evil that was gnarled inside me. I knew that such desperate salvation wouldn’t last long. Hell’s claws of cold ice held no mercy. And if those didn’t work, my soul of broken blackness would scare that beautiful breeze away.
But I didn’t care. Time would continue to crawl by and hell’s claws, shards of ice, never ceased to stop ripping at whatever’s left. So I didn’t care because I knew I’d scare that beautiful feeling away forever. I was better off not ruining yet another beautiful thing.
