In transition. (drippedink) wrote in deadly_syntax,
In transition.
drippedink
deadly_syntax

because I'm earlay.

Title: Libertine.
Author: Ethan (hoods@witty.com)
Rating: uh, dunno.
Summary: Something short and reflective.

The lacquered plastic benches in clever colors reminded him of hard candy lined in rows. Their bright and cheery surfaces were nearly as deceptive as the bright florescent lights that hung overhead. As soon as the steel coffin rocketed into the bowels of the underground, they would flicker--blinding like a flash bulb before they went out completely. Those were the moments when he could expel a sigh of relief. Those were the moments when no one had to see him, when he could be anything he wanted.

Alcohol was a stale cologne and a poor substitute for personality--spatters that had soaked into the cotton of his shirt were as minute as the upturn of his mouth. Ads hung like fly paper to the walls, plastered over again when one sheet was no longer visually appealing. Metal glared and was reflected in the glass panes that only looked clean when eyes were nearly sealed shut--this was his escape.

An escape from threadbare carpeting and a dingy mattress. An escape from a constant itch and a beautiful woman who always seemed to be running faster than his legs would carry him. An escape from holding someone's life savings in a balled fist only to turn around and spend it like monopoly money. He should've made it an act--like Houdini only real. These weren't stunts for the wealthy and bored, these were survival skills.

New York opened her arms to anyone--a saint almost, with twinkling lights like Christmas in the middle of July. All of her mystique and glory however, rested in the monument dumped in her harbor--a hand me down maiden with the brightest flame in the world. It was ridiculous really. People put faith in all sorts of things, but a personification of a word that eroded as soon as it hit the air was just a testament to what life was: pretty as a postcard and just as useless.

Cabin pressure seemed to crush against his chest as he jolted and jerked while metal was grinding against metal to make sparks. Soon the doors were going to open and he was going to have to make a decision--stay, or leave the world behind him.

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