Feb 14, 2015
Caught red handed || Dante
Stoned. Tipsy. Wasted. Plastered. Michael was all of the above. He couldn't remember where he was anymore, and that was sort of the point of all this. Sweet nothing crawled through his mind. Eyes were bloodshot. The world rushed by. His skin felt warm and wonderful. Perfect euphoria fluttered through his brain. So much so that it did not bother him when the flashing blue lights broke up the party and people were sent scattering. He sat crossed legged on the floor without a care.