Creature
There are hundreds of them. Withering, churning creatures of the night. They whisper in his ear, pull on his hand, leading him down a path he's not willing to take, but walks down anyway. They brush up against him. Their voices to loud, the music not loud enough. Their perfume overwhelming...to sweet, not sweet enough.
Not enough.
He takes another swallow from the tumbler in his hands. Hoping to drown the noises, the smells... the aches.
Not enough.
Cyrus Rose. The tiny man with the pity in his eye. The tiny, big man with a world of knowledge in his voice as he stands on the top of the staircase, looking down at the rugged, broken boy – man - sneaking out.
"Running won't help, Son."
He keeps walking, needing to stop at the metal doors of the elevator. Metal doors...like bars. Keeping him trapped, forcing him to listen to the wise man.
"I'm not your son."
"She loves you."
Silence.
"I'm not enough"
The bars open, showing him the light...this one might lead to the dark. He steps into the inferno.
Arthur is there, waiting as always, opening limo doors, helping drunkards –caused by alcohol or bitchy brunets- stumble into plush leather seats.
"Victrola."
Thank God for the city that never sleeps.
They welcome him with open arms, with greedy sneers on too red lips. They embrace him in arms clinking with gold bands. Because he's one of them.
A creature of the night.
He sits in his usual spot, surrounded by woman others would find breathtaking...to him they seem too bright, to amply breasted and too...loud.
His eyes follow the flowing movements of the dancer on stage, but he does not see her. He's watching a completely different dance on a very different night.
He can still smell her on his skin. Hear her voice in his ears.
"I love you."
The music isn't loud enough to drown out her words, the air isn't sweet enough to make him forget her ...he isn't enough to be with her.
He pushes their legs of his, enabling him to get up, to seek escape. He walks thru his club, his pride, formally his joy, but not tonight. Tonight the colours are too bright, the red to overwhelming. He pushes his way into a deserted dressing room behind the stage. It's covered in dust, feather boas, and skimpy outfits. And masks. They line the walls, staring at him thru empty eyes, mocking him with big sneers and smirks resembling his own infamous one.
He drowns it all out by lighting a joint. By dragging the mind numbing smoke into his lungs, waiting for the moment the drug reaches his brain via his bloodstream.
It doesn't take long. A few deep drags and he's at home base. His eyes shut on their own accord. The once overly loud music becomes a backdrop to his current state. The masks seem less ominous and more vibrant.
"Welcome..."
They seem to whisper, they seem to snicker as they watch him. Their hallow, eyeless sockets seem to follow him towards the door. They see who he truly is, what he truly is.
"... prince of the night."
Of darkness and deception.
She is an angel, dresses in white , left slumbering in an empty bed with a simple note as a thank you and an open door to a future he can never be enough for.
A/N : Okay , I have no idea what the hell this was. But I like it anyway. If you don't. Say so , but if you do...please review. I know I should be updating RS and I will soon.
Lots of Love
EB
xoxo
