colder if you stand

Its steaming hot rushing out of the steel faucet.
Should be soothing.
Might be for all he knows but he's not paying attention.
He's in the shower, starring at a blue shower curtain, figuring out where things should go from here.
The soap foams on his skin. Its soft rushing down his skin as the water pushes it away.
He leans against the wall, lets the spraying jet jet him down. There's a smell of vomit from where someone throw up their gin too early in the night. They must be drunk. He's sober. Drunk with confusion, though. Well, maybe not confusion. Impatience. That nails it down more. He leans against the wall, lets the spray of the jet massage across his body. A smell of vomit and gin and soap fills the misty air. Somebody had been drunk in the bathroom earlier. Couldn't hold things down. He's sober. Drunk with impatience, though. And indecisiveness. You know, the "what's next?" question. Indecisive is a good one to use. He's in the misty shower, letting the water wash away the suds on his body, suds that smell of an 'Island Breeze' but still don't mask the stink of gin induced vomit, in the shower calculating his life and his future but not really getting anywhere because as he stands in the shower he can't really tell the difference between white and black, figuratively speaking. He's starring at the nothing on the white shower wall and the nothing stares back.
It'll be cold when the hot water is gone.
Off snaps the faucet, open rips the blue curtain, splash goes the mist of the hot vapor into the cool bathroom air. He stands there bare. There's a towel across from him and he grabs it and wipes down and ties it around himself and runs his fingers through his hair.
The air is cold.
Colder as he stands.
He thinks to himself that he has to do something about it.

wonderment

there's a shuffle going on when i come out of the bar and i'm careless and walk straight into it and as soon as i do i'm pushed around and as i'm pushed my head jerks around and my gaze is shuffled all around and i see the city and the lights as a blur and that blur falls into my sight along with everything that goes with it; the sounds and smells and tastes of a night where i've had too much of one thing and not enough of another. both of those things can be debatable at this point. not now though. somewhere in front of me a girl smiles, not at me but at someone next to me, and i'm thinking that she's a pretty girl and i should make her lose the person she's smiling at but then i think that i'm more than happy with what i got and that's more than enough, even though, lately, it hasn't been there for me and i'm thinking that i'm all alone and though i'm not, the feeling still doesn't leave. weird. jiggles go off in my head when i stop thinking and i realize that i'm drinking a beer and there is a huge monster of a man that rushes through the crowd like a boat through the tide and i'm thinking not about him but a thousand other things as he grabs my drink. i'm thinking that its probably better because i don't need a drink and i'm thinking at that very momment they I have no idea where my life is going and i'm thinking that thats a wierd thought to be thinking because my life is wierd anyways and then i'm thinking that i need to find a way back home and that home isn't such a far off place but it is a bit away and i'm thinking how i'm going to get home and i think that thought until i find a way and the way is in front of me and its her and she's there, driving, and i don't care for her much, hate her actually, and as a result don't care if i walk, so i get out and then get back in and figure that my legs would enjoy it more if i rode so i ride. as i ride i'm thinking of alot and more than i need to and i think that i really have it good and also bad and that i have it better and also worse than the world and it makes sense to me at the time and i'm thtinking that i have so much and so many but at the same time feel so poor and so lonely and that gets me thinking more again.
i laugh. i'm as lost in my world as a person can be in their world of spinning lights and sounds and tastes and smells. but i can't do anything about it. not my world. i'm more powerless than a dead battery, i think, and i laugh and i'm wondering what or who actually did this to me and what that quake's magnitude was or monster's strength was becuase it apparently shook the hell out of me because i feel like rubble, if rubble could feel; heavy and a sight for seeing and noticible and steaming but also broken and no more than a collection of crumbs, but still crumbs that think and wonder and...drink. i want a cigarette as i roll up darkly to my apartment but there's none to be had so the only thing to be had is a deep breath of fresh air so i take one and take steps toward my door and then i'm bored and wonder where, if any where, my world is going. i'm thinking again, nausious about the thought, thinking about me and hating it, not the good things a people, just the darker things that are more apparent. the things that send the world spinning and drinking.