The stale tea stagnating next to the breathing corpse no longer warmed the scene with its rising steam; the life giving warmth expired with its maker as the slovenly body looked mindlessly at the fractured glass of that gloomily echoing picture from a time when colour once snaked it’s betrayal spreading tendrils around the expressive soul, now crushed and corrupted into the lifeless hulk of flesh pouring cold tea down the reddened drain.
The putrid brown liquid splashed messily across the idle cast blade in the sink, it’s red stain blending with the putrid brown to form an even more off colour that brought a coldly bleak smile flashing across the face of its user, whose arms still slightly bled from the evening’s mandatory session of provoking feeling of some kind.
A sigh left the now blank face as the smile’s lingering presence joined all those other extinguished signs of life, each drop of blood lost a bitter repeat of something more reliable than that betrayal soaked sensation called love long since expired.
The mindless repeating ringing tone from the other room as some honestly concerned former friend feels the need to intervene, merely provoking a damningly blank nothing in terms of wanting to have to placate and reassure them that the walking corpse was ‘ok’ and suffer an agonizing rendition of the merrily infested soul talking about their happy family and asking ‘why don’t you come to visit’.
Each jaggedly marking cut ever uglier than the last violently fitful set of marks but as the last set, now reddened uneven lines in flesh fading as those before, no redeeming feeling is felt as memories of pain forcefully resurge to remind him of how it should feel as reality betrays even that attempt at knowing the once sacred sensation of possessing a sensitivity to pain.
A slowly dragging foot resistant to moving precedes anther dragging foot in the direction of an open window from which a putrid mix of cigarette smoke interweaves with the scent of stale sex and weed, an alarmingly more putrid soundscape of cat calls and violence echoing from the street below further strangles the hope of happiness with the disgusting air infesting the room.
Having forced the ill fitting window pane to shut followed by more resistant dragging of feet to the stained and marked kitchen, another cup of tea brewing as he tries to think of that illusively evasive logic of why to continue.
A briefly distracting reprieve from the demoralizing task of listing all the reasons to leave the even more demoralizing experience of living, each depressingly constructed line a step closer to the evening that the blade cuts too deep as the heavily corrupted thought hits with guiltless amusement ‘at least it won’t be me having to pour away this cup of cold tea’ followed grimly by the again guilt free amusing thought ‘should anyone notice I’m missing’.