dallas was about as pretty as a cocaine smile; fake, induced, expensively enhanced. there were a few cool cats walking around but their scent was nearly extinguished by the smouldering presence of the young dead. sometimes it would sink into my skin; i longed to see solar nails and tan arms when i reached for a drink i didn't have to buy. that's why God doesn't ever want us to compare ourselves to others; insecurity is a sneaky poison that nibbles at the flesh until it is able to reside beneath it, churning it's toxin into the blood until the soul is tortured into feeling feel dull and common.
*ardent*
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