A perfect autumn evening. White egyptian cotton drapes, blowing in the wind. They dance in the candlelight like ancient, forgotten incubuses, hungry for mortal flesh. Wind rustles the changing leaves of the trees outside. The room is how you would picture a gods: a large, oversized round bed in the middle of a white, sterile room with candles burning all around. White satin sheets cover her body, they seem like sandpaper in contrast to the silkiness of her skin. Jasmine and honeysuckle hang in the air. Her beauty permeates me, it saturates me. Her voice caries on the wind, telling me that she loves me, without saying a word. A gentle sigh escapes from her lips... Have I died? Is this heaven? Is she an angel or a goddess? What in life have I done to be worthy of such beauty? Something changes: the gentle breeze picks up speed, the sound of leaves is replaced with cold slamming sound of steel on steel. Cold. Impersonal. Voices of the damned overlap and increase in volume, the steel slams harder. Satin gives way to burlap and a black nothingness consumes the walls around me like paper burning to ash. The curtains turn to red and drip with blood, burning in the candlelight. The smell is sickening, hot copper and human excrement now permeates my senses. The voices grow in intensity and overlap in the ever growing darkness, a sound like the demonic speaking in long forgotten tongues. Joy gives way to sorrow, pleasure turns to pain and ecstasy becomes the agony of my existence. Her flesh begins to rot and she grabs ahold of me, begging me to stay. I watch in horror as one thousand years turns her body to ash in front of me, her fingers that clenched me turn to ash and blow away in the ever increasing winds, screams fill my head, shit fills my nose and terror becomes my ever enclosing reality. Am I dead? Is this hell? is she a demon or the devil? What have I done in life to be worthy of this? I wake in a cold sweat, screaming into the night. I am in jail and I have just had the first nightmare of my incarceration. This was not to be the last. I need a cigarette... I am free now. Free in every way a man can be. Free from jail, free from addiction. She is lying next to me now, as beautiful as i remember her. She is sleeping and dreaming about something that makes a smile play on the edge of her lips. I lay a kiss on her forehead and the smile grows wider. I feel heat flush to her face. Am I dreaming? Is this real? Is this heaven or is this hell? The answer smacks me in the face like something of undeniable truth has a way of doing: this is life and from here on out, it is exactly what i make it to be. AK2 9-24-13.
Posted on: Wed, 25 Sep 2013 04:12:50 +0000
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