Cocaine and Hatred

3/2/06
fire licked the edges of his boot before he pulled his leg back. The smell of singed rubber lingered while he chewed the meat. He uncapped his canteen, slurping down the water; squirrel always left an odd aftertaste. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, his 2 months of beard catching the rest of the water.

3/2/06
she moved like some sacrificial lamb on an altar; it was evident she didn’t want to be here. I kept talking about the weather (everyone talks about the weather when lacking a subject) while I watched her. While she was nodding her head and either affirming or denying, her eyes were moving, looking for some way to see what time it was (8.15). She had her legs crossed, her arms folded (on the table?). when she nodded, her blonde hair fell forward in little ringlets, down to her shoulders, only to be brushed back by a hand. The light sweater she had wasn’t buttoned, though it hung about her shoulders as if she were cold or expecting to leave at any moment. Maybe her boyfriend would show up…

3/2/06
I leaned back from the table, pulling and releasing my nostrils as I breathed in through my nose. The cocaine might have been way too much, but I was ready for the rush, the tingling, the crash. I couldn’t feel my nose anymore, but the feeling that it took was then replaced by a tingling in my hands, that would soon spread throughout my body, waking me, killing me.

10/2/06
slow, muted lust-fire, burning into the cold of the night. The wind blows outside, I can hear it shatter against the window; I can hear the bass in the music from the room next door; hear the voices chatter into the parking lot outside. The fire burns hotter, longer, keeping me warm; the fire stops, sputtering out, all the heat dying in a seventeen second shudder. The fire is choked out, drowned, murdered in the prime of its life; wasted and spread around the lusty core of its being.

13/2/06
she held the spoon to her face, taking two quick snorts so she could feel the rush, the dilation of pupils, the way her heart beats faster, like it will burst from her chest.

1/3/06
the electricity hummed quietly beneath me; I could feel the reverberations down my back, my legs. Staring up at the sky, a quiet peace was contained between the two of us. Silence was the answer to an unspoken question that lingered in the space between us. Muted, fiery impatience overtook him at last.
“What are we doing here?!” he shouted.

14/3/06
a millisecond of trauma and then the world ends; a tiny quarter-sized hole just above the bridge of your nose, followed by emptiness; a hollow retreat after an inch of pain.

15/3/06
a razorthin line of life beats beneath the surface of my arm; a coagulant mess of red spiderweb gatherings are visible, too, just below the surface, along the suicide line that beats and throbs with a life of its own.

29/3/06
traincrash of imperium, footfalls of impending pregnant disaster awaiting the silence that preceeds a broken vow, a final swig of intoxicant outside of a solemn promise, rhetorical decisions pledged outside of time.

3/4/06
excess fire leapt out of the sides of the grill as the girl sprayed a torrent of lighter fluid over the mesquite. Rolling up the side of the grill, the fire turning blue at the base, burning green over the mesquite, under the grill as if the grill were made of copper, or the charcoal had trace amounts of it in its veins.

4/5/06
the juices crack and run down his hands as he jumps, cheering the jungle dry cries of the city sprawled out in front of him, calling him as he danced back and forth in exultant, ecstatic adulation of the buses and transport out from his state of consciousness.



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