༘˚⋆𐙚 Sometimes love is not enough, and the road gets tough, I don't know why.⋆𖦹.✧˚
𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 where two souls from vastly different universes collide, Adrian finds herself entangled in a connection that no one else seems to understand. Bo...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
⊹₊⟡⋆ 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 ..! ⊹₊⟡⋆
. ݁₊ ⊹ (The Bascketball Diaries) .. #
"because you and i we were born to live"
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The slums of the city stretched out like a grim showcase for every lost soul that drifted between 14th Street and the Bowery. Headquarters, they called it—a filthy haven where addicts and drunks alike found themselves tangled in the pit of their own vices.
The alleys were scattered with empty bottles, needles, crumpled paper bags, and the skeletal forms of people slouched against walls, smoking, dozing, or staring blankly into the depths of nowhere. The air was thick with the mingling stench of alcohol, sweat, and something deeply decayed.
Jim found himself sitting on a tattered couch inside a dimly lit, musty apartment, his eyes half-lidded from the high that gripped his senses. Next to him sat a man who looked just as weary and wasted, a glint of something too familiar in his eyes as he prepared the next hit, sorting through a collection of needles and white powder on the table between them.
“Jim, my mother’s been ragging on me, y’know?” the man muttered, drawing out the words in a slow, uneven drawl. “She’s always saying, ‘Jesus, Mary, and Joseph—you’ve tried every other way to go to church, why not put yourself in Christ’s hands?’ So I figure, why not give it a shot, right? I dig Jesus.”
He chuckled dryly, shaking his head as if he could barely believe his own words. “So I go. High Mass, the choir and everything. And the first thing I see on the right side of the altar? Are those little red candles in glass… the same ones we used back in the park to cook up. Crazy, right?”
Jim’s eyes flickered, barely focusing as he listened, slouched deeper into the couch. It took effort to keep his eyes open, but he managed to give the man a nod to show he was still listening, still there, though it felt like he was floating somewhere beyond his own body.
The man went on, a strange smile tugging at his lips. “Then, this altar boy’s coming down the aisle, carrying this six-foot candle. And all I can picture is this giant spoon hanging above it, man, like it’s some setup for a massive cook. Bags and bags of dope in there.”
