Blue bottles

I like that song by Pentagram.

Because of the video.

That part where the dog pees against the wall and the words sung are ‘there is warmth in drops of rain’.

I know, obvious and all.

I like obvious.

Much better than devious.

Thu. My posts suck.

I hate hairy ankles. And un-elasticised socks.

And socks that droop over the ankles, exposing the jutting bone and the great tufts of hair.

And this is what I looked at constantly for over two hours.

The disgust bubbling inside me. Tension swirling beneath the bubbles.

Two hours is a long time to wait for anything. Where nerves stretch to madness, strumming my pain with its fingers.

Endless cups of plastic coffee drunk endlessly.

The heatless atmosphere was getting to me.

My butt hurt from all that sitting down. My neck hurt from the looking at the floor. My shoulders, from the tension.

I’m tired and I don’t need this.

I hate this.

Fuck this.

And then I saw the ankle.

One jiggly ankle. One hairy ankle crossed over black, inexpensive pants. Jiggling to some beat.

The grotesque projection of bone beneath the taut skin. Moving up and down.

With hair all over it. Up, down. Up, jiggle, jiggle. Down.

Repulsive. Yet fascinating.

I looked at it, drinking endless cups of coffee.

The coffee mixing in my nervous stomach made me feel pukey.

And I watched the ankle still.

And then my name was called out.

I looked up and saw the owner of the ankle smile at me.

A smile intended to be remembered. A flirty smile. A shy yet loaded smile.

I smiled back.

A cruel smile.

And then..

I felt a lot less nervous. More confident.

The churning of the coffee stilled in my belly.