flakman

Ground rushed up to greet me. A darkness. I don’t know where I was in that inky swirl, but at least it wasn’t here. Only my shadow for a companion. Funny thing about companions, they tend to haunt you. I almost prefer the mosquitoes, even the occasional wild cat. They have a purifying quality, drawing my attention like a priest. A priest drawing a malevolent spirit from a human being. An exorcism on four legs with wings. My last cigarette is nestled in my pocket in a cocoon of cellophane and card stock. Lord knows I’m writhing to smoke it. I can feel it in every breath, my throat rasping for it, wanting to bask in its warmth.