There's a Marlboro burning in the ashtray by the side of the bed; a table adorned with fragments of a life that has been lived. The wind is howling outside the thin walls enclosing the room in which there sits a girl staring at a black dresser with the lamplight reflecting off of her red silk bedspread.
There's snow outside. Powdered encrusted blades of grass fall short of defiance and surrender to the bone-chilling cold that graces the cells of each piece. It's a mixed emotion. Pure, virtuous flakes; a sign of new beginnings. Frozen. Stuck. Rock. Hard place. There's something intensely inviting about the snow. The softness that graces the fingertips of passerby, floats atop the surface of skin melting into a delicious drop of unscathed promise.
There's the death involved. It's a killer. Freezing you to the point of no return, no turning back, no moving forward. Shoving itself into crystallized lungs making respiration (inspiration) impossible. It hurts. Sucking in the razor blades of expiration makes the act of simple functions inhibited. What else is there to do? Keep breathing: Face the pain. Fight the urge: Lose the fight. Catch 22, double edged sword: "Make your choice," commanding whispers brush eardrums and brain stems.
Fight or flight, there's no way to win. There will be no Grand Supreme, no jester's court, no middle man. There will only be you. Caught between the raging wind and the peaceful calm of freshly fallen snow. When it all boils down to one man, one passion, one simple self sacrifice: What is left? Do we buckle under pressure....or thrive through the pain? Do we give into our pleasures....or ignore our human instinct? Do we chase after our dreams....or watch them fade into the driven snow?
There's only one choice. Only one path. And then there's you.
Pick your poison, baby.
Bottoms up.
peace, love, and jelly-rolls,
MissMeredith
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