could there be another thousand stories like you and me?
Brandon Lee ~ the 69 eyes
I don't believe in heaven. And I don't believe in hell either. A vast, endless nothingness is all there really is. No pain, no sorrow, no joy or happiness. Just apathy and the cold kiss it has left burning on your soul.
Drifting in a numb state, you begin to fool yourself. To think that you are protected. Above the illusionary hell and heaven. Just drifting through a daze somewhere in between.
Sometimes, though, you can escape for only a brief moment. Fleeting pleasure is all there is. Sex, of course, being one of the greatest pleasures. For when you are frozen on the inside, all you can feel are hands on your body, the softness of another's flesh.
Then there's blessed oblivion. Momentary amnesia. Sometimes induced with alcohol or drugs. And sometimes, it's just forgotten, lost inside your mind.
But you remember the moments of pleasure. You have the bruises to prove that it was once real. That something more than nothing exists.
But you, you are not another statue of ice, reflecting only sunlight and moonlight. You are not just another body in the darkness. You are form of amnesia, or rather, escapism. You are like a drug, like an empty glass of whiskey. But you will never be forgotten, never be lost to me.
You are my pleasure, but you are not sex. I want you to be, yes, I can admit that. But for now, I can thrive on your mere presence.
"Reno!"
You emerge on the other side of the platform, looking at me. Will you ever know what shills run down my spine every time you do that.
"Tseng," you say as you come nearer to me. My name in your mouth, rolling of your tongue and over your lips. It's a sweet pleasure to hear, to imagine how you would whisper it, scream it.
I hold out my cigarette to you, between my middle and index finger. Inviting you closer.
"You look like you need it," I say, shrugging, but almost trembling.
You lean closer, sucking greedily. Your lips touch the tips of my fingers. I watch you, feel you.
So close.
Maybe one day I will risk shattering the illusion of us. I will taste your lips with my own.
Some day.
But not today.
The End
Comments: Just a little something to try and get over my writers block.br
©Starla 2002