The fact is most people in this world will remain nameless and faceless, not standing the test of time. Oh everyone has great aspirations during youth but so few obtain those dreams. There shall be no fame or glory for the masses that pine and lust over it. A shared unrequited love.

Diabolism

She sat at the bar with black lace clinging to her body. Many men approached her, each standing up to the plate with their best lines and looks. But she just looked at them with a blank stare and they walked away with their bruised masculinity. She went back to her amber colored liquor on the rocks. Her pale skin seemed translucent under the dim lights of the bar and her pale limbs draped across the counter.

He sat a few seats away from her, every few minutes glancing her way. He couldn’t help himself. There was something about her that drew him in. He sat in a trench coat gulping down a beer after a long day of work. On about the tenth time he looked over at her, to his surprise, she was staring straight at him. Her eyes were smoke and her eye makeup was smudged. Her long black hair flowed down her back. She was at least ten years younger than him, he guessed. She looked about twenty or so. He got caught in her eyes for what seemed like minutes. Her mouth slowly opened and revealed a mouthful of slightly sharp teeth. He didn’t notice. He was lost in her. She slowly rose and walked toward him.

“Hi.” She said standing over him, whispering into his ear. Her voice was husky and it made his whole body quiver with longing. He didn’t look but he knew nearly every pair of eyes was on them. He couldn’t believe his luck. Here, the most beautiful girl in the bar, hell the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, was approaching him. Her hand traveled from his shoulder to his neck. Her skin was burning hot to the touch. Her fingers closed around his throat and for a moment he couldn’t breathe. Then she released her grip laughing.

He stopped thinking. All he was aware of was her casually sitting in his lap and the nearness of her body to his. He ached with a longing he’d never felt before. She ordered another drink from the bartender who stared at him with envy apparent. She drank the whole glass in one swig. And then turned her face towards his and whispered “Come on.” In one graceful movement she leapt off his lap, grabbed his hand, and ran out of the bar.

He was going to mumble something about paying for their drinks but before he knew it they were in a black convertible and she was driving much faster than the speed limit. There was some sort of rock music blaring on the radio. He realized he didn’t even know her name and again, he was going to introduce himself, however awkwardly. But the music was too loud and just when he mustered up the courage they stopped. They’d driven for about twenty minutes and as the car stopped the music turned off too and it was suddenly silent. She turned toward him, her eyes flashing. She bit her lips and raised her eyebrows and got out of the convertible. By the time he had gotten out of the car she was standing in the doorway to a dark mansion that looked centuries old. The cold air helped him regain his senses a bit and he looked around realizing there were no other houses around. This fact didn’t bother him as she lifted her dress up, exposing even more of her long legs. She slipped into the house and he followed her.

The house was dark and as he called out “Hello…?” his voice sounded strange as if he didn’t recognize it. He heard a giggle and saw her at the top of the staircase. He started running up the stairs trying to catch up with her. When he reached the top of the stairs he entered some type of hallway, he was having trouble seeing. There was a candle lit at the end of the hall and he could see the old painting on the wall and the burgundy carpet but he couldn’t see her. He turned around and there she was. She was holding a bottle of whiskey and took a swig right from the bottle then handed it to him. He laughed, unsure of what she was doing. He took a drink and she stared at him again with that penetrating look. She pushed him against the wall with surprising force. He didn’t know it but with that push the wall had been dented. He dropped the bottle and it made no noise as it hit the plush carpet. Her lips met his in a fury. Her tongue was quick and bitter tasting. She ripped his coat and shirt off him. His hand reached up her dress and he let out a guttural moan. She bit his lower lip and drew blood.

She took his hand once more and led him into a room with nothing but a white bed and a metal rusty bed frame, a candle burned in the corner offering some light. She literally tore her dress straight off and she was completely naked as she fell onto the bed. He stumbled after her. As he reached the bed she unzipped him and took him in her. Her moans were loud and seemed to echo throughout the whole house. He was in pure ecstasy. His head felt heavy but with each thrust he felt the overwhelming sensation take him over. Her nails dug into his back and she kept biting his neck. Blood ran down him.

As he came her body began to shake. He laid down beside her but soon noticed something was wrong. Her eyes were closed and her body felt even hotter than it had before. She stopped shaking and lay limp. She rose her eyes open but now he could see they were completely black. There was no white. Her entire eye was black. Her skin which had seemed translucent before became literally so. Her skin seemed one thin layer and he could see all her veins clearly. Her head rolled completely and she screeched. Her mouth opened and her entire mouth was now black. Her teeth had turned into daggers. The screech sounded like nothing he’d heard before and it made his ears hurt intensely. He turned to run and in less than a second she had moved from the bed to right in front of him. She seemed to be growling at him and her body was somehow not right. Her ribs were now protruding from her stomach and her head was turned at an angle that would surely have meant her neck was broken. She threw him with brute force against the wall, this time there was a hole in the wall. Much to his misfortune he hadn’t been knocked out. He was very much alive as she descended upon him. Her nails digging into his chest, she feasted on his heart. His screams silenced quickly.

Bedroom Eyes

His fingertips lightly grazed my bare skin. My head lay against his chest and I could hear his steady heartbeat. The power I possess, bedroom eyes, and soft curves. My collarbone jutting forward so nakedly and a positively seductive vulnerability. His eyes glaze over with lust, blissfully unaware of the rest of the world. We have our own world. Human lust uncontrollable. His glassy eyes stare at me. And close again in pleasure. Our lips later become raspberry red and puffy from kissing, the lovers lingering signs. Of course there would be slight bruises on inner thighs and perhaps bite marks on necks.

Blood dancing through water.

Billowing, appearing

as smoke travels through air.

Infinite.

No end,

infinite black,

so much better

than infinite white.

For my mind

at least.

Nakedness.

Why is undressing and nakedness so often tied to sexuality? What is so erotic about the nipple? How about the full roundness of a breast? Just as the breast is round, the knee is bony, and teeth are white. The human body, eyelashes, collarbones, the back, genitalia, are all beautiful. Though some invoke lust while others do not.

Routine days and nights occupy my time. Habits and preferences set in their way. Like grocery aisles, polychromatic in variety. Like days upon days. But every so often you get a hidden pearl, unique and dazzling. Standing out from the mundane suburban houses. Far from the ordinary. Everyone is trying to escape the worst of themselves. People all the same, like bricks on a building. Crammed together like in the dreary haunt of White Chapel, where the elusive Jack ran in shadows ripping with his knife. Practically anything can set people in a panic. When it comes down to it, humans are just mammals. The sheep of the Western civilization. Cowering and flinching at anything unpleasant. Set in our ways, in our grocery aisles.

Modern Romance

“No words can compare to what just happened.” He says as he walks away.

She’s left outside her front door on a warm late June night, not quite sure how to feel.

Everyone always told her she’d knew when she was in love. It’d hit her. Just like how she’d know her first orgasm. But love was different. Love, for her, developed slowly, over time. And she didn’t realize the love was there until it was too late. And by then it had become like a dull ache. Everyone always realizes things when it’s too late; it’s a human flaw that we have yet to correct.

“Modern romance is dead.” Her professor says this in some discussion and the rest of class she sits there thinking and pondering this one sentence. How could he know? How could he be so right? For romance is dead. It’s fallen to the wayside in our brain-damaged, corrupt, unusual society.

She sits out on green, green grass picking daisies. She thinks of love as elusive. You only know how sweet it is when you’ve experienced a broken heart and salty tears. “It’s all a cycle don’t you know?” She tells herself. And yes, yes it is. Life and love have that in common.

The span of human existence played across my television screen. My vision was blurred around the edges and everything seemed pornographic. I was in a transitional phase and convinced that you saw someone's soul when you frenchkissed them. Your mouth mingled with someone else's. But as I grew more and more experienced, my views evolved as I did. Suddenly it seemed to me that any sexual act of the flesh was revealing of that person and their innermost secrets. When sharing your body it seems like more is shared than you intend to, more than you realize. Your actions speak, telling the truth about who you are. You are exposed with nothing to hide.

Sometimes I feel like my life is a movie. And it's all leading up to something and it's all so predictable to the audience but not me. And I'm just in this blindly, waiting for the next big event to come out of nowhere and hit me.

A Portrait of Lust.

The electric atoms buzzed in excitement but there were no tell tale signs as she sat still, unmoving, as poised and elegant as a marble statue. There was no physical expression of the beautiful fireworks going off in her mind. But oh, a slight smile, an upturn of the corners of her raspberry lips. The sweetness of her youth permeating the air around her like a fragrant flower, innocently sexual.

The nearness of him teased her body. She wanted so badly to reach out and touch him, any kind of physical contact. She could smell his cologne and it, combined with his natural scent of testosterone, made her feel weak at the knees. He made her heart ache. But somehow it ached in a good way. The sexual tension between them seemed absolutely palatable, the air was thick with sex.

A Black Hole Of Love

He drives over in his vintage convertible. The motor humming, the top down, calm accents on NPR drawling on. At a stoplight he runs his hand through his golden hair, the night air still. He parks, sitting in his car for a few moments, his body electric in anticipation. He knocks on her door with the strong noise of knuckles hitting wood.

The door opens, she leans against the doorframe. Her body long and lean, a perfect machine, evolved over so many years. He can’t help himself, his eyes wander down, mesmerized by how the cloth of her tee-shirt clings so perfectly, his thoughts are set on fire. She smirks at him, her eyes bright, as if she can read his thoughts. He smiles back, just another communication in their secret language. He reaches out to hug her, and as they embrace he notices her scent, so familiar and sweet.

She takes his hand, leading him into the darkness that engulfs them both. They turn a corner and her figure is illuminated. Another chapter in their well-worn novel of love to be put on a shelf somewhere someday, forgotten besides the wisps of memories of days past and dreams past.