Her Dead Spirit

                                   IMG_20140820_0041511         

 Woke up feeling numb she hadn’t drink for ten months. Not that she was an alcoholic, but by choice. She craved a cold frosty Budweiser, in a bottle. I mean why does a lady need a fancy glass it goes down either way? I mean does drinking out of fancy glass make you the women sexier or the beer? Well even so, it sounded very good to her about now. You see at the moment her heart ached. She had nothing to offer anyone not at all! She could not offer her kindness, not her love, not her compassion, not her promises, not her encouragement, not even an argument, but her words alone. She felt heartless she just did not care, and knew all she wanted was to rid this sober bore. She popped opened the cap carbon dioxide slowly releasing, she carelessly chucked the cap against the wall. Eyeballing it from a short distance she continued to gaze at the cap. Her OCD senses were tingling her impulses were trying to dominate. She very much wanted to get up and grab that cap, and any other time she would have. This time she was in control laughing out loud as she sat on the couch crossing one leg in front of another. Beer’s lined up across the table she was ready to board the chug express. Taking sips, yeah right! Not an option for her no way! She raced as she chugged, as her heart beat did, she did not want to feel anything! She wanted this quick pain away, relief prescription that she prescribed alone to numb her fast as possible. She wanted the pain and anxiety that she was feeling dispelled instantly. Cowardly as it may be she liked it, she was in control, nothing or anyone could hurt her. As she took a breath, she teared as the tears rolled down her cheeks onto her lips, she came to this notion that her soul escaped her. That’s why her spirit was so deathly. Be that so, she hated to come to terms that when her numbness was to wear off that she would have to face the rudeness of her reality. All the time perfectly knowing that beer was the real dominant force here. Shrugging, sigh, way to be a Debbie downer she thought. She sat high on her cocktail table, she pushed her hair back with her hands tugging downwards holding it in place. Did I mention before she was not an alcoholic? Ten beer’s later paralysis set in on her right hand. Her beer loosely slipped through her fingers, and hand. And shattered onto the floor! Echoing across her thin walls of her two story house. As she starred down, looking at all the broken pieces, she realized she no longer had any more words to offer, they to were meaningless.

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4 thoughts on “Her Dead Spirit”

  1. I should of elaborated more why her spirit was dead, and added to the beginning instead towards ending. Thinking about changing title, and picture. Please critique, and let me know your thoughts I am open to any suggestions negative or positive.

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  2. Woke up feeling numb, she hadn’t had a drink for ten months. Not that she was an alcoholic, but by choice. She craved a cold frosty Budweiser, in a bottle. I mean why does a lady need a fancy glass it goes down either way? How does drinking out of fancy glass make you, the women, sexier or is it the beer? Even so, one sounded very good to her about now. You see at the moment her heart ached. She had nothing to offer anyone, nothing at all! She could not offer her kindness, nor her love, nor her compassion, nor her promises, nor her encouragement, not even an argument, but her words alone. She felt heartless, she just did not care, and knew all she wanted was to rid this sober bore. She popped opened the cap, carbon dioxide slowly releasing, she carelessly chucked the cap against the wall. Eyeballing it from a short distance she continued to gaze at the cap. Her OCD senses were tingling, her impulses were trying to dominate. She very much wanted to get up and grab that cap, any other time she would have. This time she was in control laughing out loud as she sat on the couch crossing one leg in front of another. Beers lined up across the table she was ready to board the chug express. Taking sips, yeah right! Not an option for her no way! She raced as she chugged, as her heart beat did, she did not want to feel anything! She wanted this quick pain to go away A relief prescription that she prescribed alone to numb her, fast as possible. She wanted the pain and anxiety that she was feeling dispelled instantly. Cowardly as it may be she liked it, she was in control, nothing nor anyone could hurt her. As she took a breath, she teared as the tears rolled down her cheeks onto her lips, she came to the notion that her soul escaped her. That’s why her spirit was so deathly. Be that so, she hated to come to terms that when her numbness wears off that she would have to face the rudeness of her reality. All the time, perfectly knowing that beer was the real dominant force here. Shrugging, sigh, way to be a Debbie downer she thought. She sat high on her cocktail table, she pushed her hair back with her hands; tugging, downwards, holding it in place. Did I mention before she was not an alcoholic? Ten beers later, paralysis set in on her right hand. Her beer loosely slipped through her fingers, and hand. Shattered onto the floor! Echoing across her thin walls of her two story house. As she starred down, looking at all the broken pieces, she realized she no longer had any more words to offer, they to were meaningless.

    Like

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