Destruction
I walked into the outside. It was grey, but the sky flickered patiently it's tired, sweet orange. My hands were still bleeding from the events of earlier, they stung and stung. I found a young trader on the side, and bought a fix. He wanted to talk, his face was innocent, his heart was black. I could smell the scent of cheap alcohol on his breath, alcohol that grabbed me round the neck and forced me to listen. I heard grotesque stories, from the man with the sweet pale face.
I saw a guy leaning on a wire fence. He had revenge on his lips. I wanted to talk. I wanted to ask him a thousand questions, but I wanted three thousand answers. I would never be happy, nothing he said would ever give me what I wanted. I needed a man to tell me his life, and for me to hang on the edge to every fucking word he spoke, I needed the words to bind me in chains and fuck me like a whore. I needed a guy who could tell me the world and more, and never slow down. My breath quickened, my heart beat faster and faster until my vision was blurred and I couldn't make out anything apart form the revenge on his lips. That, would never fade, it was calling me and it was smacking me across the face and it didn't give a care about it. It knew I was scum and it treated me like shit. I needed it, I needed the world.
