His cigarette smoke floats around her head like a cloud, mingling the thoughts of clarity, of lust, of revolution. And it’s all served on a silver platter, in three lines, right there for her to inhale like the cigarette she balances loosely between her painted red lips. He feeds her a revolution and then swigs her down like a shot in the arm. With her head in the smoke, she doesn’t care – she’s fed the lust, she’s fed the revolution. He pours them out, cuts them up with the mirror on his shelf, divides them in the pages of his pretty pretence and racks them on up. “Cheers brother, here’s to the revolution!” She lets him drink and drink her dry because she has her own lines to satisfy. She inhales the simple fragility of a balance while she watches him with his own of sensual same old, same old. It’s lust at its height. It’s revolution. It was the craving she was sold.
English
hi5 Coins
