the city is blushed tonight with clouds pink and yellow as tea roses, full of smog and mist that smothers the sidewalks in thickly impenetrable layers. i am crossed as a pretzel on the wicker bench with a brown glass bottle of hard cider clenched lightly in my fingers, and i am already sunk. it's chilly and i am wrapped in plaid cotton, fringed suede, and thin denim. these are the layers of me, swathed in warm breath as i pull my knees against my chest and breath against them. on this porch, i am the king of beasts, growling at passersby and their dragging feet against cement. tonight is colder than i am willing to admit, and i can feel my collarbone, my clavicle, my ribs as i bend in two against my legs. spindly, alien fingers seem distant as i pull the bottle to my lips and take another swallow. it doesn't burn to slide down my throat, only settles heavy in my gut. alice in wonderland misplaced in the rundown historic district of a college city. begging, "eat me, drink me," but i am a different sort of fool. better to be stuck in the puzzle than to discover a displeasing answer.

this is how i've spent my nights, but soon...

laughing, the tug of joy at my vocal chakra. the speaker, the speaker, the woman who loves with her words, presses her mouth to your core and says "i love you" as you die. and that is the ultimate high.