(no subject)
for bronze_slayers
Sleeping in the church,
Riding in the dirt,
Put a banner over my grave...
I stood under the water until all the heat was leeched away, leaving only the bone-chilling cold. Even then, I stood there, as if my feet were fixed to the tile floor. Maybe I was thinking to wash myself down the drain. Maybe I wasn't thinking at all. The shower was one of the spots I could stop worrying about accidently hurting someone. Funny, before I met Fang Boy and his friends, I never used to worry about it before. What happened, happened. If they were dumb enough to keep coming after a warning, they deserved what they got. Then again, I used to live alone. And I thought I had found a cure. Now I lived in a hotel full of people, and was in pain from my own body's fucked up systems. That's what I get for thinking.
I turned in place, letting the cold, forceful spray pound on my back, the water run down my legs. I had been standing here so long, I had forgotten if I washed my hair already. I reached out for the first bottle of shampoo I saw, something fruity smelling, probably left here when someone borrowed my shower. Finders keepers. I was a thief, afterall. It wasn't the Hope Diamond, or high tech corporate espionage, but... it kept me feeling normal. Kept me from falling into 'woe is me, pity me' trap. I tilted my head back, rising the suds out, hearing the soap bubbles pop and crinkle as they washed past my ears. One of my favorite things about having been temporarily touchable was having someone else wash my hair. Now I'd never get it again.
I toweled off quickly, rubbing my hair as dry as it would get. I tugged on a pair of Miss Sixty jeans, a fitted dark blue silk top with matching gloves, a black crushed velvet jacket, and a comfortable pair of boots. Just because I felt like shit most of the time was no reason to go around looking like it. I closed the door behind me on my way out, heading for the lobby. May as well try to be sociable.
Make a body work,
Make a beggar hurt,
Sell me something big and untamed.
Sleeping in the church,
Riding in the dirt,
Put a banner over my grave...
I stood under the water until all the heat was leeched away, leaving only the bone-chilling cold. Even then, I stood there, as if my feet were fixed to the tile floor. Maybe I was thinking to wash myself down the drain. Maybe I wasn't thinking at all. The shower was one of the spots I could stop worrying about accidently hurting someone. Funny, before I met Fang Boy and his friends, I never used to worry about it before. What happened, happened. If they were dumb enough to keep coming after a warning, they deserved what they got. Then again, I used to live alone. And I thought I had found a cure. Now I lived in a hotel full of people, and was in pain from my own body's fucked up systems. That's what I get for thinking.
I turned in place, letting the cold, forceful spray pound on my back, the water run down my legs. I had been standing here so long, I had forgotten if I washed my hair already. I reached out for the first bottle of shampoo I saw, something fruity smelling, probably left here when someone borrowed my shower. Finders keepers. I was a thief, afterall. It wasn't the Hope Diamond, or high tech corporate espionage, but... it kept me feeling normal. Kept me from falling into 'woe is me, pity me' trap. I tilted my head back, rising the suds out, hearing the soap bubbles pop and crinkle as they washed past my ears. One of my favorite things about having been temporarily touchable was having someone else wash my hair. Now I'd never get it again.
I toweled off quickly, rubbing my hair as dry as it would get. I tugged on a pair of Miss Sixty jeans, a fitted dark blue silk top with matching gloves, a black crushed velvet jacket, and a comfortable pair of boots. Just because I felt like shit most of the time was no reason to go around looking like it. I closed the door behind me on my way out, heading for the lobby. May as well try to be sociable.
Make a body work,
Make a beggar hurt,
Sell me something big and untamed.