#indxstress

MORE TEXT MEMES ! | accepting

                            [ sms: meg ]  as if                            [ sms: meg ]  oh you know just                             [ sms: meg ]  tracking down the last soul tied to the st. valentines day massacre                             [ sms: meg ]  since the soul is almost a century old i didn’t want to look too imposing                             [ sms: meg ]  attachment: selfiegame1003149.jpg

@indxstress​ : ‘ i could go into detail, but i’m not going to. ’

richard siken sentence starters. || @indxstress

        HE FEELS AS IF she has crafted a fine-tuned lie for him, dipped in brightly colored paint that splashes and soaks into paler skin. spoken a million times, yet softer in his presence. did he earn the fleeting nature of truth that she spins like spider silk through her teeth ? he can tell she has held back on him since the dawn of their beginning. a funny thing. where did you go, what did you see, oh divine and lost beauty ? his ballads suffocate her - she could not speak of it even if she wanted to.

        BUT HE DOES NOT ask much. she looks troubled, but hides it well under her glowing complexion. fleeting as she may be, he could learn more from her soft-spoken mannerisms than she probably felt comfortable showing. so he doesn’t bring it up, even if it worries him to think of something else restraining her. but he knows, and he watches. he too had left and drowned in such self-consuming unease. he hopes, at the very least, to lend her light should she descend further into unknown darkness.

                                 ❝  3AM            SO LITTLE COLUMN A ,  LITTLE COLUMN B.  ❞     HER RESPONSE, SO VERY NATURAL yet shallow and light as the paper mobile that danced against the ceiling, angels spinning in the breeze from the open window with pressed-together hands and halos they rarely had in reality. Meg turned a page of her newspaper, and she looked at him with dark coloured eyes that were more alert than anyone ought to have at half past witching hour, and she folded the newspaper along its precise lines, laid it down and set her scotch glass to it’s side, lined up along the counter top.

                            ❝ Sorry for drugging you. Eggs? ❞  

NONE TOO SURPRISINGLY ,  BRIAN HAS HAD WORSE .   THE WORLD INSISTS ON PEELING HIS EYELIDS OPEN ,   AND HE’S FORCED TO THE WAKING WORLD SPRAWLED AND DRIBBLING .      The back of his sleeve solves the latter as the room dances above his head in the gloom.  Some sweet allusion to death calls him back,  but the apparition at the corner of his left eye rather demands his attention.  Meg’s methods are questionable,  to say the least,  but the man does worse to himself.      “  Yeah  --- ?  Yeah.  ”      His nose aches,  sniffing doesn’t rid him of that cold bite,  nor the cotton-mouth he suffers.      “  Drink,  too.  ”      In the dark she’s just like a dream,  half there for him and half not.  He could reach out and put his hand right through her.      “  You,  uh. . .,  sure know how to get my attention.  ”

                          ❛  CALL MY INTEREST AN ARCHITECTURAL ONE.  ❜  why else travel all the way to greece, you say? judging by a rather wandering gaze, fascination remained ambivalent at best.   ❛  — i have an eye for beauty, as they so shamelessly say.  ❜  quirking an amused brow, the god entertained the thought of combining a tour with that of concluding drinks; he’s heard everything about the local wine.