The Way Your Eyes Would Bite My Neckduring The Cigarette Breakwhen There Was Nothing Between Us And The
The way your eyes would bite my neck during the cigarette break when there was nothing between us and the moon except for the smell of stale tobacco.
© Margaux Emmanuel
-
thegirlwithhopes liked this · 4 years ago
-
ambroseharte liked this · 6 years ago
-
katrznaa liked this · 6 years ago
-
sanjanakhemanii liked this · 6 years ago
-
mechanicalblend-blog liked this · 6 years ago
-
wantondestructionandsuch liked this · 6 years ago
-
ohlookroses liked this · 6 years ago
-
passionate4writing liked this · 6 years ago
-
audaciousimage reblogged this · 6 years ago
-
dum-spiro-spero03 reblogged this · 6 years ago
-
dum-spiro-spero03 liked this · 6 years ago
-
ellenya liked this · 6 years ago
-
ridiculous-to-the-core reblogged this · 6 years ago
-
pantsky reblogged this · 6 years ago
-
notwittyjusttired liked this · 6 years ago
-
annet-rhem liked this · 6 years ago
-
dankestkitten reblogged this · 6 years ago
-
dankestkitten liked this · 6 years ago
-
poetbitesback liked this · 6 years ago
-
heyimanet-blog liked this · 6 years ago
-
tythis-dielturas reblogged this · 6 years ago
-
darkness-pulled-me-in liked this · 6 years ago
-
callingupghosts liked this · 6 years ago
-
poetryriot reblogged this · 6 years ago
-
poet-aster liked this · 6 years ago
-
theladyfunnybones liked this · 6 years ago
-
milkshakeporn liked this · 6 years ago
-
hab-ich-dir-nie-gesagt liked this · 6 years ago
-
ni-na-ba-by-19-98 liked this · 6 years ago
-
hippiexxluvxx reblogged this · 6 years ago
-
purple-with-a-dash-of-pink reblogged this · 6 years ago
-
sonador-reveur liked this · 6 years ago
-
justanotherwriteress-blog liked this · 7 years ago
-
selflovefuckmeup-blog liked this · 7 years ago
-
infranaut liked this · 7 years ago
-
boerngrim liked this · 7 years ago
-
praggya1993 liked this · 7 years ago
-
harrybpoetry liked this · 7 years ago
-
justmylostdreams liked this · 7 years ago
-
graffiti-scars liked this · 7 years ago
-
just-4-thought liked this · 7 years ago
-
fantodsdhrit liked this · 7 years ago
More Posts from Theinscrutableescapee
She attentively watched the two star-crossed smoke rings being teared apart, meeting the window, gnawing at the glass skin as she let an uneasy silence buzz in her ears.
“Kid, we need to talk”, he finally said, resting his hand on her knee.
Come to think of it, it wasn’t silent; there was a record turning a couple of feet behind her.
“I need a God to pray to, maybe someone like you”, it sang in a jazzy elevator melody. And the fan was blowing cool air into her hair, making a strand of dirty blonde curls uncomfortably press against her left eyelid.
She looked up at him with knitted brows, making the scar above her eyebrow slightly bulge. He moved his hand away from her knee, got up, and took another long, meditative, inhale from his cigarette as he passed his hand through his sticky brown hair that greasily fell onto his shoulders.
“You still have the Volvo”, she said in an almost inaudible small voice.
He turned his back towards her and pressed his hands up onto the window sill, bending his brown-suit body in two, making his purple striped tie loosely flail.
“You seriously think that the P1800 can get us through this? What did they teach you down in the South?”
Not much, she thought. She couldn’t see his face but she could see the gray smoke bubbling around his head.
“You see over there?”, he said standing upright, one hand clenched to his right suspender spanning across his chest, the other pointed towards a distant building.
She tilted her head towards the left.
“That’s the Garter Movie Theater”.
“Is it really that difficult to be called ‘sir’?”, he retorted, turning his body towards her and bringing his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to be able to meet her eyes.
He has green eyes, she noted.
“That’s the Garter Movie Theater, sir”, she said, correcting herself, too weak to fight back like she would have a few days back.
“That’s right. We should go tonight”, he responded, in a testing manner, now resting his back against the window, looking straight into her eyes, his right leg rigidly laying on his left leg.
She felt an alarming tension in her chest. He couldn’t possibly be serious, she told herself.
“Sir, I don’t know if that’s a good ide-“
“Why, it would be a… magnificent idea”, he said in a decrescendo whisper enlacing his arms around her, the strong smell of smoke filling her nostrils.
“Just you and I…”, he hissed into her ear.
He broke off with a malevolent laugh and made his way towards the door. She rubbed her nose against her sweatshirt, hoping that the acrid smell would wear off.
He opened the door and gestured towards the green-carpeted hallway.
“After you”, he said with a vicious smile.
The devil’s playground, that’s what his mind is, she thought.
She stepped outside the room, a tingle of fear trickling down her spine.
© Margaux Emmanuel
poisoned apricots
under the frozen floorboards
of a sick child’s heart
note to self
a glimpse of melancholia
in the lukewarm saké
of a child’s laughter
© Margaux Emmanuel
thirty percent off
You should go inside
You should see all the pretty girls
You should’ve seen this one, oh boy her-
No thanks,
I just came here for the view
but the percent
wept
sang
in his smile
and betrayed
the slang and meth
hanging in his mouth
the poor lighting
the off-key voice crack karaoke
the interrupted sentences.
Quarter to three am
unfamiliar sheets
biting
married men’s skin
dampened by the nightlight
the droopy eyes
hell’s sigh
the sunlight inching
through the curtains
counter-clockwise
pushed
through the streets
of dawn
neon shards
of billboards
promoting their lives
unnamed bodies
still warm
still moaning
by their side
an ache
an itch
in their thighs
they stain
the pavement
with their silent cries
Is this what it’s like
to be dead,
or are we alive?
hitches a ride
into their minds
they still have
pictures of their kids
in their wallets
along with a string
of unattached numbers
for the occasional hunger
oh, no
they were
thirty percent off
I would’ve never
sunbaked hearts
fall apart
a la carte
but oh,
it doesn’t matter
as long as it stays
in the dark.
© Margaux Emmanuel
He stares at the ceiling, a scratched melody bleeding through the thin wall. To his right, the wall was unadorned, in an almost naked, dehumanized manner. A lonely flower was limply standing in a vase, giving him big gloomy eyes, sitting on a small table. The porridge sticks to the spoon that he brings to his mouth. “Mr. Rodler, I will come back to give you your medication in half an hour” The white sheets are stiff against his goosebumped legs, he runs his hand on them, trying to decrease them, pressing his palms against his thighs’ skin. Weekend in a whirlwind weekend in a whirlwind weekend in a whirlwind “Weekend in a whirlwind!” “Mr. Rodler, I beg your pardon?” He bites his lip as the woman takes a last glance at him as she leaves the room. He rubs the back of his left hand against his lips, smudging the porridge bordering his lips onto his hand. He takes, or rather he grips, the spoon and circles it around the ridge of the empty bowl, letting the utensil schizophrenically scratch and screech against the bowl’s metal. He finally takes the bowl, rises it with both hands to his eyes’ level, and looks at his reflection. “Weekend in a whirlwind”. The nurse enters the room once again with a glass of water in her hand and a small tray in the other. “Can he play something else? I don’t enjoy ragtime.” “Mr. Rodler, what are you talking about? No music is playing.” He nervously turns to the left wall as puts his hands onto his ears. The white nurse stares at him with a composed incomprehension. “Why don’t you play some chess? Mr. Saito would, I bet, love to play against you.” “I don’t want him to know what I’m thinking.” “But, Mr. Rodler, it’s just a game.” He vigorously shakes his head as he nervously tugs on the sheets that were tightly held back by the sides of the mattress. “Don’t look at me that way, I beg you.” “Mr. Rodler, do I need to bring you to the upstairs ward?” He stays silent because he knows very well what goes on in “the upstairs ward”. He looks at the nurse and hisses: “Weekend in a whirlwind”.
weekend in a whirlwind | © Margaux Emmanuel