hiskyhighsky.

The lists go on and on.
A young man awakes from a coma, opens his heavy eye-lids and thinks to himself “what will it be today? A sore head? Something to do with my mother? Or just a slouched face with no meaning? Why do I bother?”
He gathers his shirt, jeans and underwear into a pile, one that seems ordered and sensible (when he decides to put them back on). His hair slopes to a side, a side he did not sleep on. He slept facing a companion, one he met only 7 hours before, yet he feels like he’s known her a lifetime. He leaves the young lovers room, full of essence and dimmed lights. Foreign fabrics spilling from her bed sheets. She does not wake.
A hope springs to mind that the walk home, or his walk of shame will not be as painful as he had thought. His destination is finally found and he is happy. Happy to be (home).
Circles of, crystals, mint like with an edge. Surrounding the edge of his nostril, only one nostril. He takes a deep breath, inhaling while holding down the opposite side of his nose to get a last taste of the chemicals.
The untold and untouched.