Ouroboros

127 6 2
                                    

The bad taste of deceit lingers in the tip of my tongue. What once I thought was a friendship that will last, was just a glass fragile enough to break in the presence of one's reflection moving in its surface. It was just a fleeting thought, though; in hindsight, it was probably leading up to this bleeding extravaganza of an event— it wasn't up to par with my expectations, but alas, the prospect of something more is likewise a missed opportunity.

It was quite, put simply, a moment's reprieve, wasted. My eyes are open now, yet I walk the road alone, for the time being. I have to keep straight at this narrow line suspended in the air— worrying whether to fall, wobbling against the silent chaos amongst the turbulent atmosphere which where the trouble unfolds. Snakes may have disguised itself as clouds, floating, unaffected, but ready to strike and lead me plummeting down to an untimely demise. Wrap around my body, choked and exhausted of the air I should be freely breathing, the air of my own emotional calm.

Costly, the decisions were. An utter fastball, leaving only a hole into my chest in its wake. A sacrificial lamb in every way, lay wasting in a room, eyes and lips as the very audience that watches you rot into the unmistakable choice you have made. Labeled, judged, poisoned with their self-conceptions— the story eluded from their grasps, their understanding. Paper fliers, circulations, all burnt to the ground, another fuel to the all-encompassing fire. The bad taste, it lingers.

It tastes of deceit, defeat; their ignorance, unsheathed. The glass never reflected them, only the outward physicality, but not the intentions, not the future. It never reflected— it never did.

//k.u

***

Notes: College was never supposed to be like High School. But it did. *rolls eyes unto the 7th dimension*

When I Can't Do Anything ElseWhere stories live. Discover now