Sweet Is The Night

He wandered back to his condo, holding his jingling bundle of keys with a veiny grip. He struggled to puncture the key hole with his brass instrument.

A wedge of light cut through the dust rife darkness that coated his blue navy furniture floating on the carpet of alternating bej and brown.

He dropped his patent leather suitcase covered in crackles of light colored creases. Inside, his objects must’ve tumbled inside out; A minute capsule of chaos he’d unburden himself from for the remainder of this short lived bliss.

He watched a specter of transparent cloth levitate away from the tall gaping window. He had forgot to close it for the day. Yet, somehow he was glad that he’d done something reckless that punished him with a clean wash of pure dry air. He slumped on his coach and took in the silence. The darkness completed the solitary spell on this lonely denizen, while the world he tried to forget roared twenty stories below. There was a soft bustle of feet and screeches of faint laughter marring the trifecta of cold, dark and wind.

He pulled out a drawer from his cabinet and saw the massacre of old cassettes, broken sunglass frames and knives of all waves and contours with rusting edges. Things he’d push further until the bounds of space and time wouldn’t allow him. He tossed in his sacrifice of the day; A mysterious metal calling card from some douchbag with a plume of erect gelled hair he’d only wish would be a wig. And that perfume was a black market vomit inducer.

He should’ve throwed the token, but instead he admired the small glint of embossed letters. Another meaningless thing that would entice his curiosity. Something to keep him going.

His life was a far streaching contradiction. One day, he imagined that he’d scream his heart out and ask his clients to just shut up already. To grow and leave him be. But then again, how would he pay the world its due respect of sneers and fake pleasantries?

But now, was a time for his mind to seize its normal chatter. Tonight was like no other. He senses a certain zest in the air like small charged globules of oil trickling his nose. Coming down inside him, electrifying his spine. There was an ascending swirl of life coming through him.

He took off his shirt, exposing the damp pit stains, and let the nocturnal breeze lick the sweat from between his neck and shoulders.

His mistress would soon come, she was graceful enough to never ask him of his day. All she did was breathe into his ears. And suckle from the soft fuzzy lobe of his ear. She had enough vigor to mush his broad chest and press into his sheets. Then she blessed him with those hazy back lit eyes, they made him forget the stream of time. He could renounce his own name just by watching her forever. And years after that.

She lowered her oblong pale face, and curled two plump lips. Her Arachnid fingers groped the stringy muscles of his neck. With a small nick of her overgrown canine, she slurped the first stubborn drop of his toxic blood. Then drew the slow sludge of red hot nectar from his body. Her pull extended beyond the organs of his body. She reached deeper and deeper twirling the cords of his essence in a way he cursed for letting him live the way he did away from her. She would tell of her love to him, with slices of her nails cutting the sheets of skin hugging the flaps of knotted muscle on his chest. His dream of this unholy union trailed into the foggy lanes of this midnight journey. For her, he shed everything he had and knew. To be together again with this glowing demon, relieving him from his tenuous will to live.

As the meal came to a close, she licks and gulps the last thick strings of blood. And tickled his ear with her last words.

“Ache for me, tomorrow. ”

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