subjective relationship

coal through the bottles with the bottoms broken off, coca-cola caramelized and bubbling brown between the rocks. where she smashed her beverage down after a single belchless belt, and gulped a boullion-cubic rubix cubit of air into her belly. climbing through the remnants of her coal mine field where the burning bushes barf out broken tablets... partially digested with the script a bit smudged, "thou shalt not... 500 mg." that's all i can make out.