It is cold here. An almost surreal atmosphere in this place. The room is dark and dank. He sweats a hot sweat. A fever of horrid proportions, he breaks down. He has not slept properly in too long. This is no ordinary sickness. He knows this. The very lumps in his throat as he chokes back the tears know this. This has been for months now; he gets up to go to the bathroom. Stumbling blindly he reaches up as he falls over the sea of old clothes. His room is a mess, always is, as he is. As he whispers the name that haunts his dry mouth over and over again. Though the body to the name never comes he still whispers the name softly, pleadingly, until he cannot say them anymore. He cannot come to terms with it, with himself. A monster, perhaps. Or to caring? No. Maybe. One cannot say. As the windows shut tight behind him, the heat gets to him slowly but surely. He feels the marked flesh, he one with the numbers and the picture he drew. Of such beauty as the faerie and demon. Has the body he yearns for got the same, no. It was a body to young, to scared, to hurt for such a dangerous procedure.
The date stares at him blankly, 14.02.08, mocking him in its wake, with the words "Never forget" right underneath. Oh no, he will never forget, the scars upon his outstretched heart on the operating table where that body dissected and implanted the memories of failure and inadequacy upon him. No, that he cannot forget. No anger chides him, for he remembers the body's home smell and scent. The taste of it against his lips was all the thought he could bring to fruition. He remembers hot herb tea and blankets in the cold. The polycotten custom sheets and NFSU, Tekken battles. A slight smile comes across his wicked face as he thinks of the 100 reasons chuckling to himself as he mouthed them off. "Bar One fantasies", "Shut up when I talk shit", Take my socks and shoes off". But he also remembers the worst; his smile delicately fades as he remembers the very cause for the memories to be tainted to the body. Encased in the prison he has built, he walks back and forth between the steel and concrete. A shudder as he realizes the fever is hitting his central nervous system.
It hasn't broken yet. It has been months, yet every night he suffers beneath the hot and cold torment of the sickness-not-sickness. He is in remission; he is in the worst stages and a recovering addict. The nail biting, the scratched skins, the hallucinations, all present. Is it an environmental cause? No. He is simply working the body out of his system. As the babies crawl across the roof and the ants roam across his body he pictures the body there. On top of him, slowly raising him to the heavens. "NAY! LIES! You are not real! Where is the real you!?" he snaps to the apparition. The smile is all he gets before the body he is craving for disappears. All goes quiet, another hallucination.
The wooden floor his sanctuary, his eyes close. "DENIED!" he speaks as he is jolted awake by more images of his betrayal. "This sickness will never pass me will it?" he says to the body again. Out of the thinnest air it appears and replies, "No, not as long as you hold me right here the way you do". The body places the hand upon his chest and feels his heart beat through the ghostly white fingers, displacing the smoke of the body as he breaths. They lie there, like they always did, the bodies head in his arms, his mecha, his omega, his sun, his light, his strength, his inspiration, his moxie, his strawberry, his love. His eyes gently close. "DENIED!" Not his voice, not the bodies calls out to him through the darkness. His strained, tired eyes barely make out a tall dark figure before his bed. "You", he says in a quiet dry tone. Not mockingly, but annoyance and fear. "A dangerous combination that annoying fear you feel towards me", the figure speaks in deep, provocative, seductive tones of a well aged malevolence.
"You know nothing!" A slight courage slides his voice to almost match the figures, "Leave me be, daemon, you are not welcome here. I was rid of you once and it cost me everything. Thus you are locked away, you are dead."
"Not as dead as you would think. You can never separate yourself from your darkness. Tis the only reason all this happened with
"SILENCE! You dare not utter that name here, Little Horn! You have neither the right nor the privilege to mention the name of the Goddess Body here, you walking STAIN!"
"My goodness, you have a voice
"Silence! Leave me!"
"You know I cannot do that. Look at you. The withdrawl from that b
"Finish that sentence and I will severe the connection of your spine to your body!"
eautiful body has left you weak. Pathetic. You are a dog without a bone. A cat without a tail. A man devoid of testicles. I have never seen you like this. A sweaty pig. Why do you do this to yourself? Why not let it go?" A sinister smile etches itself across its dark face.
"Why not give into your anger. Why not break the statue of the Goddess Body and burn the pieces and through the ashes create the new deity! CREATE GOD HIMSELF! No petty feminine whiles and weaknesses! No ridiculous abuse from anyone! Do you not remember? When we where one? A time when your every whim was obeyed and darkness cracked the very earth upon which you walked? When all knew your name as beautiful and as terrifying as the darkest storm! When
"You think you know me?" the figure gestures a shadowy confusion,"You think you know my path? You think I am God, or can create god within myself? FOOL! You know NOTHING OF POWER! HA!" It is his chance to smile that smile now. "I created you fool! You would not even be here if I did not seek to hide the darkness from the one I loved! Your arrogance knows no bounds, speaking as you do! I AM THE ONE WHO WILL TRANSCEND GOD HIMSELF AND MOCK THE ANGELD WITH PAGNES OF RAGE OF LUST! I am no god neonate! I am far beyond that. I defy all logic. I am unimaginable, unfathomable, infallible and omnipotent. A god as you speak shall have fear! I FEAR NOTHING!
"Then what of the Goddess Body
The darkness swallows him as he realizes, the body is what he fears. Its words, its anger, but is controlled by them, occupying his empty spaces with the Goddess Body. All the dark parts filled by its presence.
"You see young one. You are nothing but human. You will give into me eventually, wait and see. This love you continue will either hasten you to your death or complete insanity and when that time comes. This body will be mine."
With that the figure disappeared back into his subconscious. The words of the daemon echoing in his head, in his ears, on his lips, "Death or insanity
" he opens his draw and he reaches deep within the hollow space and grabs the small brown box. Light in texture as well as tone. His fingers around the corners remembering the bodies perfect body. He unclasps the latch and listens to the haunting creak and breaths deep the smell that emits itself from the interior of the oh so beautiful box. The rose at first, gropes his fingers, flattened by the Concise Dictionary, for all eternity to be admired. He holds the dark dry petals to his face and runs it along his jaw, breathing deep the ecstatic memory of the day it came to him. This rose he kept. He places it beside him. Next, the lock, wrapped oh so carefully and neatly in a piece of sticky tape. Golden shimmers of the brilliance dance and mingle within it before him. He remembers the short times. When the body held short plats on the head. Held in place with that cap. The Wolfbane. The skirt and hat. The small little shoesie woosies. The backpack. The first few pictures. He places it beside him. The black earring. Only one, the other the goddess offered to him and said, "Suits you," with a laugh. The other earring, the colorful one, meaningful to him. As it held her color perfectly. The silver one next, beautiful craftsmanship, given to the Goddess by a worshipper. Then spit, just for him. The china pendant next. He remembers how very often the Goddess adorned herself with it. A beautiful piece that only glowed brighter upon her neck. The silver heart, small but delicate. Like the Goddess he thought. The green crystal heart next. No words could describe his care for this over the months. Polishing and placing it in his hands to help him meditate. It was a symbol of the Goddesses heart, big and shiny and she gave it to him. The kitten's bell, the one the goddess dreamt about. For months he passed by the store, always wishing to go in and get them. He did eventually, sent pictures and was informed that it had been in a vision. Indeed, the bells were powerful, meaningful. Though he dare not wear it, as it may be lost. Finally in the worship box, was the butterfly broach. An exquisite piece of the utmost beauty and delicacy. The Goddess had described time and time again, how much it meant to her. How much it would bring him. Every doubt, every fear was washed from him that day. The Goddess was not only a Goddess. But she loved a mortal. The sadness at his delinquency soon came to him and the fever broke again. Tears ran down his face. Strong, heavy tears of anger, sadness, joy, hell everything. They rolled down his cheek, onto his jaw and off his chin. He thinks to fight the tears but he cannot, they have already begun. So many times has this started, every night, everyday. He is not merely haunted by his sadness and love anymore. No. He is utterly plagued by it. In and out of delirious nightmares and when he does dream, he dreams of the body. And when he nightmares, he nightmares the body gone. Once he would have awoken to find the body safely beside him. No longer, his worst nightmares have become true. The rain starts to fall, the sky reflecting his soul. Dark, disturbed and alone. He unsets the alarm. No wake from the elder. He steps outside, sheds himself of his skin and climbs up ever higher. To the roof he must go, to witness the dance of the Goddess, to pray.
The thunder roars through the earth itself, shattering the cold soundless empty night. He stands on the very edge of the roof, completely weightless. He could fall. But he won't. The hopes the bodies love is still enough to keep his feet planted, rooted. Though more and more doubt scratches through his thoughts each and every day. He takes a step back and knells. Lightning pierces and morphs the cloudy sky, accentuating the shadows and flirting with the darkness. It kisses the trees and plays with the thunder. Crackling the very harvest of wind it roars and smolders, echoing terribly in his ears. He kneels on the waterproofing in the puddles pooled and spotted all around and begs, "Send the Goddess safety, happiness. May the pain inflicted upon her delicate, shattered heart heal. May she find her muse. May she find her mecha, her alpha, her sunrise, for she has clearly not found it here", he places his hand upon his irregular heart as he says so," May the Goddess find all that she has not in here," He pounds his chest hard and fast, feeling it rivet through is emaciated body, rain pelting his body," May she forget the indignities and suffering exuded by these very hands," he holds his hands to the sky," May she forget the degradation uttered by these very lips," He places his hand in his mouth, gagging and throwing up the nothingness in his empty belly," May she forget the big brown eyes that hid the truth at the expense of care", he opens his eyes wide and lets the rain tear away at his pupils till it stings and he cries only more," May she forget the body that she did not want upon hers for such a time," he tears at his flesh, cutting deeper till the blood poured and pooled around him," May she forget the tears she shed during the horrid ordeals she went through," he shouts louder. His blood hits the roof, diluting within the sanctuary pool of water he has claimed as his own," May she forget the sleepless nights and loneliness she felt as she lay there helpless and scared," he pounds the ground and shouts ever louder," May she forget the horror of knowing me, may she forget all that has befallen her," he raises himself and shouts to the wind, the thunder, the lightning, the rain," MAY SHE FIND PEACE AND TRUE LOVE IN HER LIFE. MAY SHE NEVER FEEL ALONE AGAIN! MAY SHE TAKE A HAND AND HAVE IT NOT LEAD HER ASTRAY! May she find someone, anyone, anything. Better then I!" The tears do not stop flowing; the wounds bleed heavier and faster. His heart feels as if it's about to explode. His breath becomes shallow and deep, playing in contradiction. He feels his heart breaking, burning. His eyes are growing blurry and out of focus. He staggers to his feet, the elements battling him, still he stands, strong. The fever has got him in its full grip. He is close to losing consciousness when he shouts one last prayer to the heavens, "BUT, OH GOD, DON'T LET HER FORGET MY HEART! I FEEL AS IF I HAVE LOST EVERYTHING, MAY SHE NEVER LOSE ANOTHER THING IN HER LIFE! I may not have even left one pleasant memory in the Goddesses heart, but I beg thee, God! DON'T LET ONE BIT OF LOVE THAT SHE HAS EVER HAD BE STRIPPED FROM HER AGAIN! May she never feel this kind of betrayal again! And God?!"
" LET ME EITHER GO INSANE WITH THIS LOVE OF MINE, LET ME DIE SAVING HER LIFE OR DIE PROVING MY LOVE! I WON'T GO ANY OTHER WAY, YA SHMUCK! WHAT SAY YOU?!"
The sky darkened and the clouds parted for but a moment, revealing the fullness and beauty of the moon. As soon as it happened it ended. He smirked;" Now you, my friend, are the bullshit king".
With that he fell to the earth.
0 0 0
"What?" his body lies at the bottom of his bed. "Alive?" he flickers his eye lids. The light pours in and fills the room. He looks down and his chest and stomach. Bandaged and sealed his wounds be," Funny that," he croaks as he draws himself to his feet. He reaches into the top draw, pulls out ol' reliable Styvie Red. Lights up and exhales a deep column of smoke.
"I thought you quit" the Goddess body's voice speaks to him. He takes another drag," I thought you said goodbye, twice!"
"I never said goodbye", the Goddesses sweet voice creeping through his dreads and down his spine, "I merely went for a walk. Doth a cat not always find its way home? The same goes for me", she says placing her arms around him and her hands on his chest.
"Did you do this?" he asks forcefully, his voice full of pain pointing at his bandages.
"Well technically yes", she says knowing what's coming.
"Technically? Technically it was me. Not you". He feels her smile on his back.
"Your not real you know that?" he says shaking her off him, "Your merely my subconscious bringing my conscious to terms with the pain I feel. Almost cushioning my fall as it were," He takes another drag and faces the Goddesses. "Your nothing more than an hallucination brought on by my physical, mental and emotional addiction to you," he exhales, blowing the smoke right through her.
"That may be true My Love
"Don't call me that."
"No longer mine." He sits down on the edge of the bed, shaking. The goddess smiled, sat beside him. She put his head on his shoulder and said," You know in your heart all that is this, all that I am, the fact that I am sitting here is fake. So why do you beg for me so often?"
"I don't know", he says taking another drag. She lifts his head and kisses him long and deep, lovingly, the ultimate intimacy she once said.
"I think the reason you keep on calling me, is because you enjoy it".
"You think I enjoy reminiscing over things no longer mine, that will probably never ever be mine again. The pain I put you through. Do you really think I want to be reminded every night about my attachment to you?!" he said angrily.
She merely smiles and says, "No darling, you only want to keep me alive, inside your heart that's full of light and love. Nothing wrong with that?"
"Yes there is, for you are not doing the same, tis redundant to imagine such romantic inclinations of love and light, there is no such thing".
"Then why do you always smile through the pain. Why do you fight if it's so hopeless?"
"Because I love you
She smiles that wondrous smile.
And she is gone from sight and sound.
He lays back, ashes the smoke, and takes another drag, a deep one till he feels the heat on his lips and the filter taste in this mouth. Bittersweet it is, but he likes it. Lets him know the cigarette is done for. He puts it out in his hand, letting the pain be a reminder that indeed he is alive. The pain shows him that in all too vivid detail. Reminds him of what is not real. The Goddess he sees is not real. Yet in actuality she is. He starts thinking of her again. The sweat comes back, "Still not finished are we?" he whispers to the air. He sits up, lights another smoke.
None of it made sense. His own mind playing tricks on him. The Goddess. The sweat builds again. "Sssshhhh! Give me a minute!" He closes his eyes and puts his hand to his chest and whispers for it to slow down, to catch a break. It obeys reluctantly. Until tonight