DrCarnage
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Cui yang liu xi liYou turn the corner swiftly, your right foot splashing a puddle that seems to echo along the dark, empty street. You pass the familiar tobacco shops and estate agents, their signs now as empty and asleep as the owners inside. You hear the sound of traffic coming from the east.
A taxi with his fare in the passenger seat glides by.
On his way home after overtime at the office.
Got drunk too early and had to go home.
Going to her mother’s after an argument with her boyfriend.
From across the street you see your aspiration.
legs
m o s q u i t o
bitten.
denim skirt
p i n k stool.
The blue reflection of the television insistent on pushing the red glow from the light above from your gratification.
On one last long drag of your cigarette which you fling away like you will the memory of this moment, you open the door and step inside.
Your lust stands up, moving the pink stool backwards and a single practised movement, shuts the door and closes the curtains.
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Ninjadmin
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dorty porvort
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DrCarnage
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The television is so tiresome.
soap opera
talent show
soap opera
talent show
I’d rather have this than a customer.
At this time of night.
2am.
I can see you from across the street. The faint glow of your cigarette confirms your anxiety. Fear. Desperation. I know you’re coming here. Why have you sought me? Me?
You don’t know my history. My life. All the things my eyes have seen. All that my body and mind have experienced. My eyes are open yet you cannot see them.
The cigarette violently hits the floor, sending a small shower of sparks across the pavement.
I hear your footsteps becoming louder. Louder. LOUDER.
The door slowly creeks open and I welcome you like a long lost friend.
The curtains closed, you now look me in the eyes for the first and only time.
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