Evening writing exercise

My friend and I do a writing exercise where we choose five words and see what comes out. On this late night, we sat outside inhaling nicotine and watching the shadows of the trees around us. We took turns choosing words, a combination of internal and external stimuli:

1. Rowdy

2. Trunk

3. Vibrato

4. Succulent

5. Craving

---

Behind that succulent bravado, slick words and perfectly constructed exterior lies something hollowed out.

Like a dying tree, your trunk feeds you a perpetual diet of poison.

Beneath it all:

A rowdy boy clawing to be seen, craving total envelopment in skin that could never fit quite right.

I see now…

This is just colonialism at work, that tart venom we all mix with just enough Coke to make our taste buds forget their first job:

                                                           Protection.