Her eyes brush across mine roughly, like a stiff broom. And when they linger, she leaves red scratch marks on the whites of my eyes. Her rough face appeals to my future, and I am immediately pinpricked.
The bartender is beautiful, dumb, flirtatious: the perfect female. Her eyes are fake, and they melt against my barrier like butter to fire, drizzling slowly, predictably, unimpressively.
The other's eyes are watery and deceptive and tinged with drink. Her self-styled soul leers out from them at this time, but tomorrow it will be protected by the savage wrinkles in her bastard brain. I love and hate her terrible temperament.
The bartender is beautiful, dumb, flirtatious: the perfect female. Her eyes are fake, and they melt against my barrier like butter to fire, drizzling slowly, predictably, unimpressively.
The other's eyes are watery and deceptive and tinged with drink. Her self-styled soul leers out from them at this time, but tomorrow it will be protected by the savage wrinkles in her bastard brain. I love and hate her terrible temperament.
And in the midst of it,
I bless myself,
With a semi-magical estrangement.
I bless myself,
With a semi-magical estrangement.
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