Written in blood, Set in Stone

Seraphim's Symphony

"The devil's on your shoulder
The strangers in your head
As if you don't remember
As if you can forget
It's only been a moment
It's only been a lifetime
But tonight you're a stranger
Some silhouette"
                                                       -Aquilo
~
One shot. Then another. And another. He relished in the strong burn that travelled down his throat, living his nights in blurs and blank memories. He radiated confidence, a different person, glimpses of another lifetime that could have been. The months passed, thrills of the night slowly drowning out the bitter taste of who he was in the day, the cheap way to forget.

He wanted to be numb, forget everything. Forget all the pain and the hurt, forget the harsh screams that tore at him during his sleepless nights, forget the whispers that taunted him during his wasted days, forget those he hurt, those he loved. He tried to lose himself in the arms of another, symphonies of self-loathing singing out in ballads as he did.

So he stopped. All of it. He dried up the drinking, tried to stop thinking. Tried to move on, really, he did. Then came the nights he found himself crawling back to his escape, the hardest were the days after, an endless cycle of torment.

A faux armour of confidence that came crashing down at unlikely moments, frantically trying to be built back up again leaving holes and tears in who he was. He was falling, falling, falling, like dominoes brought up just to be knocked down again.

~L