#m.andrew

You roll your shoulders. It is not about poking. It is not about consuming: it is about digging. You often dig until violence seeps out of you because it gives honest brutal answers from people. You rather a truth soaked in blood rather than a lie. You know how cruel the world can be. You remember more than you'd like to admit. Your fingers reach for a smoke stuffed inside your pocket. A habit you should quit but you haven't. You breathe. The smoke burns your lungs but you pay it not mind, you never really have. "You get more truths when someone bleeds." it's a fact. People in the throes of emotions tend to be more truthful even if the blood leaves a mess. "Have you not gone digging for a hard truth?"

You haven't let him strike a single goal. You can hear the steady thump of your heart how it races. How it's such an effortless task: a warmup really. You are doing nothing more than toying with him. You were known for being a challenge to get by. Not everyone could strike a goal. "If you were efficient that why haven't you scored a single goal yet?" you find it easy to block. it's so easy even when there's this viciousness and frustration bleeding out into the practice. "Try harder." you say it's that cockyness that can piss some people off but you have never cared about that. "I thought you had a reputation to uphold?"