carmineink.

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             one wretched fight after another, a loss only to be coupled with an unregulated win that left him injured without proper care after. it was obvious that he would have to find another way to cope with losses other than having a drink and picking another fight. the only saving graces he had in that moment were that the curb he was sitting on was dry and the night was not too chilled. ash from his burnt out cigarette was swept away by the wind at the same moment blood dribbling from a cut above his eyebrow made its way into his eye. that was the newest addition to that night’s battle scars, left jawline jaundiced with the bruise, a split along the right side of his nose, and too many others he could not be bothered with counting. fingers swiped at the blood as shoes clicked in his direction, stopping right next to him and causing him to look up.   ❝   i’m not sitting in the middle of the sidewalk, so you can step around me. ❞

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              boredom strikes down the doctor with fervor. it clings to his polished skin & coils itself tight ‘round his aura  –––  strangling it till a cloud of grey hangs over his head & a poker, red & hot with outrage, strikes swiftly at his heart  ( in turn, at the unfortunate souls around him ). when his annoyances turn to grievances & his mood is even found intolerable by himself, furter takes to the streets in search of fresh meat –– the kind for fucking, not eating. bejeweled stilettos crunch into the concrete beneath them with a defined purpose ––– until they come across a disheveled stranger resting ‘pon the sidewalk’s curb, & they come to an abrupt halt. a brow is cocked at the man’s scruffy reply, & a gloved hand comes to rest lightly atop a protruding hip.   ❛   &  pray, tell me. why would i want to do that ? it looks to me like you’re in need of some assistance, & i’d be more than happy to help.   ❜