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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1262059
four of seven dealy sins
she languidly reaches her hand to her leg, swatting the cockroach inching its way across her leg.
she closes her eyes and wipes her mouth against her filth encrusted shirt.
she hears gnawing some feet away from her and wonders, lazily, if it is another rat. or perhaps, something more sinister.
she drops her cigarette to the floor to join so many others in burning its memory into the carpet.
she tosses the newly emptied vodka bottle into the garbage strewn heap beside her couch.
she leans back, thinking, distractedly - mind hazed, that today, like so many before it - she will simply relax.
she lights another cigarette - deeply inhaling the toxic smoke into her lungs.
she drops the lighter to the floor.
relaxing, with her eyes closed and her mind gently rocking on a sea of semi consciousness, she does not see the flames beginning their deathly dance across the floor
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