Salvation

         I inhale and see the end of the cigarette light up, the smoke filling my mouth and lungs. The smoke spirals away from my lips, making small circles of bluish grey clouds around my head.
         I close my eyes and see the stars again. I smell the grass and the dew again, the hot air all around us. I taste the smoke in my mouth and lungs and I hear her say it again.
         â€œI love you.”
         â€œI know,“ I say.
         I open my eyes and the smoke seems to float away from me, on some blissful voyage up towards the fan.
         I glance up towards the ceiling and make out the small cracks in the plaster. The small room is so barren. I think the light bulb went out a few months ago.
         I don’t mind.
        “And my world falls down, and you’re there, calling out.”
        My head falls softly to the right and I hear her say it “I know.”
        The orange tint of the small bottle seems so frightening now. It’s contents now emptied and it’s label reading the name of someone other then me.
        A small smile creeps upon my lips and I bring the cigarette to my lips once more, inhaling less then I did minutes ago. The ceiling fan moves at a slower pace now. Or maybe I'm only imagining it. I wouldn’t know the difference anymore.
        I don’t think I want to die really. I love who I am. I love my life. I think. It’s not that I really want to die, it’s just…
        I don’t really want to die, I just want to see if I'll wake up.
        The  ceiling fan swings around even slower now, though it’s blades seem so much longer. Maybe I'm just imagining it.  
       â€œAnd my world falls down, and you’re there, calling out. But it’s something I can’t say. Though it seems the only way. But it’s a game I can’t play. Not today…
       â€œAnd the world falls down, and you’re there calling out…
       I close my eyes and I feel her fingers running through my hair.
       â€œI'm worried about you,” she tells me.
        “Don’t worry,” I tell her.
        “I'm pushing zero, where is my hero? He’s out there somewhere. Left of the middle. And your world falls down, and you’re there calling out…”
        I feel my face grow warm with tears.
        Am I crying?
        I take another drag of my cigarette and let it fall to the ground. I wonder when I left the room. Was I ever really there?
       â€œThere’s something I need to tell you. Trying to get through, it’s not always easy. Left of the middle…”


(Edited by Fallen at 10:40 pm on April 21, 2002)