Charcoal to the lungs. Exhale. Smoke clouds in the mouth of a stuffed viper, ash drag glinting off a polished fang—a crimson star leading me deeper into a crook of cushioned velvet. Dotted splotches rub, after images of sex, sweat, and spills matted into the fabric. Ashes grit against my bare foot, plunged into the gap, toes curled against forgotten crumbs. Iridescent, gossamer strands separate brain from body, away from the grit, the wet pain of flesh. Buoyant and bobbing above, nestled on the ceiling of Iro, sunken into its damp, floral embrace. Prismatic notifications vignette my vision, a periphery of a periphery, silenced for a blissful moment.
A slack-jawed marionette cascades over the arm of a squat, low-backed chair—Dante. Plink, plink, plink. Head turned leaky faucet, tap opened straight between the eyes. Boom. Memories alive, recoil in my palm, barrel still warm against my thigh. Drip, drip, drip. Iron spit from gritted teeth, ache worming beneath the breast. Dark rooms, darker faces. Laughs layered on lascivious tongues. Cruelty dolled with grinning eyes.
Screams reverberated, freshly freed to the liberation of squalor. Hugs and thanks to the specter looming in the door, numb to my own satisfaction. Neon splashes of life of nubile men brought to their ends with the jerking pull of an unseen hand. Scattered roaches to light, rooms empty, pleasure rendered abrupt by deeds dealt.
Waxy heat pools, spills from me. Asteroids perforating the hull of a ship like foil to a knife. My chest rattles with the next hit, gliding black to the lush. Vines a mimicry of my liberation—a farrier of blood and soul, mind and body. Sirens weep, a whisper, yet their revolving colors already present, beamed from a distant lighthouse. Kaleidoscoping vision, fragmenting in the data stream.
A deep itch, a final sensation at the back of my neck as the transmission finishes. Fading into the canopy, the woman’s final breath divests me with vapor between pursed lips.
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