Work Text:
I smell you in the cigarette smoke.
I recognize you in cheap Whiskey’s sharp tang.
Find your flavour in sweat-soaked air.
Which is ridiculous. You never smelled like nicotine, like alcohol, like this.
You are the very embodiment of clean, of fresh, of absolutely neutral. And oh, how I loved tainting that, tarnishing the holiness.
You could call me cruel, I guess. There is a darkness in me I know of in doubtless clarity. Where my hand is touching you, there is my dirt seeping into you. When I open my mouth, my words send shards of doubt into your conciousness. And I like it just that way. My lips a little too close to your ear, my touch lingering just a little too long. Hell had its way with me and I was willingly letting it. And when you came to put me together again… well, even you couldn’t erase all of this, I guess. It wouldn’t have still been me. I’m not the good one, the hero. My darkness is a part of me and I will never be good enough to overcome it.
Though, what does it matter right now? In these filthy surroundings, I don’t want to think of my wrongs, all my mistakes and inadequacies that I know I have plenty of. I know! I know.
That’s the deceitful thing about good old-fashioned drunkeness, you know? It can lift you to euphoria so high you don’t even remember there is a ground to fall to – or it will highlight all your darkness, underline it and spit it in your face, for you to see, for the whole world to see and judge and… but I don’t want to think of that right now.
Do you wanna know a trick?
You can choose for yourself what it will be like. Just don’t think of the bad things and cling to whatever good thought you’ll find. Any happy little thought and you will fly!
So I am thinking of blue eyes seeing too deep and faith so much – in me, why me? I’m thinking of a mind holding all the knowledge and of a cluelessness about the easiest of things. I’m thinking and my thoughts are blurry and mingling and slipping down a dangerous path that in my alcoholic state seems so logical, so inevitable.
You and me.
It does sound right, doesn’t it? And when I think of rough hands that are not as much yours as they are borrowed, of unruly hair I want to mess up even more; of skin laying hidden for too long, exposed to the world and to worship of mouth and hands and teeth~ I think of your voice, oh that voice and the sweet, soothing quality of it. It speaks words of acceptance and encouragement and although it’s nothing I haven’t heard before it is all I ever wanted to hear.
Don’t be concerned, though.
I know at one point I will have to wake up. This sweet drunken haze will pass, the numbness will fade and leave behind nothing but self loathing and headache. But tonight, for now, I am on top of the world and you are by my side. Even if you are not really here.
Even if you are never really here with me anymore.