EnemyThine

It takes all kinds. And truth is stranger than fiction. So cliché, it’s droll, but i need help and i need to start somewhere. And a sad start this is, me, sounding off here where no one really hears me. It has the desperate feel of yelling into a dark, empty cave only to hear the echo of one’s own voice. There’s someone talking, there’s someone listening, but it’s pretty pathetic when done for a party of one. ...

On a bench, glaring at tiny, dancing reflections flittering on the gentle waves, he took another long, deep drag. The smoke tasted as sweet as the whiskey and he held it till it hurt. It seemed the river smelled like flowers tonight. It should have felt hot and sticky but a mild breeze kept the sweat at bay. There was no moon and few stars but fluorescence spattered the shores allowing him to exist in a soft, gray haze. ...