The acrid smell of smoke that even while burns every pore of your being it crosses, is the elixir of the soul which never learned how to exist without.
The first drag hurt. Sputtering and coughing, the tears threatened to escape. Almost, almost. You had to do what was only the logical next step. Take another drag, deeper and longer. And feel it assault your innards. Breathing was secondary.
Another shot of undiluted tequila, colorless and potent, soothed, drenched and killed every life on its way down.
And for an unexperienced, naive innocent they were still not vices enough. Still not strong enough.
For the head that wouldn’t reel, wouldn’t succumb to oblivion and persisted. Some rebels are born, not made, especially the ones who have never broken a rule in their lives.
Resist and persist. You could almost still hear the faint shattering, like tinkling of a million shards of glass and the cry reverberating, buried and trapped deep within. Oblivion never came.
Instead a laughter escaped the parched lips, mingled with loathing and pity…
Let’s don that garb on again and greet the world in joy, and let that creature slink back into its cave.
P.S. Holiday cheer coming up after! G.