I jot things down from dreams and narratives I imagine when listening to music.
Usually when I'm struggling to sleep or during a long car ride.
I can never make myself write, I have to wait for something to hit me first.
It’s funny how he acts. He’s at a constant battle with himself and his morals. His soft interior makes its presence known only after he’s acted on something considered basal: it bleeds out like a gash, stark and red.
Yet, that smile does something to him.
He wouldn’t call it attractive. It’s wider than normal, and the man’s teeth are chipped and crooked. Nevertheless, it’s genuine. It’s filled with raw emotion and generosity that’s almost palpable.
He does whatever he can to see that smile.
(13. November at 14:25)
Fist collides with bone. He’s thrown onto his back, nose bleeding.
Man stands above. Like some sort of angel, the lights bestowing him his halo.
His hands calloused. A worker by trade.
“Good game.”
Punches are exchanged outside. Man falls onto his knees.
Smoking man, bleeding gun.
He’s deep inside. Not by his choice.
Yet he holds close in the end.
(28. November at 09:53)
Bruises well up on his face as he’s pushed into the truck’s floor, over and over, no mercy spared. He wears a shit-eating grin.
(1. Dec 2023 at 00:37)
Wood and skin pressing together. Splinters cutting through.
He lays, not breathing, barely conscious to the world around him. To the steps on the floorboard. To the words whispered hurriedly. His mind, in its most primitive state, pays attention only to the heat of the other man’s body. To the way their bodies tangle. To the way the other man feels.
Rational numbed by the cold, he chases that warmth with the desperation of a dying man. Greedy hands grope for purchase with a snake-like grip.
The rapids of blood roar in his ears.
(13. Dec 2023 at 14:05)