Tuesday, December 14, 2010

can't get in can't get out, the heat closes in, the smell of sex with a hint of suicide, your sleeping in a room with bloodstains on the wall, there's a psychic imprint you don't wanna know about so you drink rum and smoke opium till to fal asleep, but even in narcosis your sweating and shivering from fear. she slides in next to you, whispers in her accented voice, 'cuddle up baby.'
your arms wrap around her, you squeeze her tight, sink into her scent, feel sweat merge, yeah that feels safe now, that's woman for ya, more protection than your browning.
in the morning she shares a croissant with you. she's been out and even found fresh coffee. she's opened the curtains and bathing in light. you share the food and then a cigarette. everything seems okay this morning, the fear passed.
you make love, bodies entwined, covered in sweat merging, time dissolves, the breeze makes the hairs on your back stand on end when it wafts in, the curtains rise, pleasure increases as you and her slide into a rhythm. her hair falls down over your face, you can see her eyes gleaming her mouth in a sensual pleasure, lips bloom, she's about to come, her nails digging deep into your back.
her hand stretched out suddenly clutches the browning, pointing it at her head, you start to say something but the room is filled with a loud crack. the bullet enters her head. blood spurts out onto the wall and her body collapses over yours. you push her away, and wrap it in the sheets, bits of brain and skull everywhere.
when you wake up, you smoke some more opium. she will return to life soon, you sit on the bed looking at the stain willing her back to being.

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