Janc 004

This night flows smoothly down my eyes. Just as this wine does with my throat. This drunken vibe through human connections. These bastards, already leaving me with premonitions. Green eyes, black hair, a fully blown out dark mistress. Knife drawn, with cutthroat explosive ambitions.

Invisible wetness. Skinny droplets of water falling from the sky in incredible numeration. What is she doing here? This is my utopia. She is unwanted. However, her golden skin... and her sapphire-shaped eyes are chiseled to perfection. She had me destroyed the night we slept, tears from my eyes she dismounted. Her face in the shape of a heart, and because of her smile, the night was illuminated.

Her cold shivering body held up close to mine. She always felt that her fashion statements were more important than the weather conditions. Her wet tight black dress fits well onto her perfect hour-glass body. She is my sharp knife coated with sugar. We hadn't said one word to each other, I liked it better this way, and this way I wouldn't have to tell her how I felt. My black suit had gotten weary from the rain. So we both took shelter within each other; just an excuse to hold each other, I suppose. I noticed her slender-but-sharp lips quivering as harsh cold winds impale our wet skin. Waiting for this opportunity, I kissed her. I know she was doing it purposely, she knows me too well. She knows she can easily consume me as I consume her, but I will not let her.

Savoring her taste, our lips locked as if it was the end of everything, as if it was the end of everything worth living for. Breaking the unawkward silence, my dark mistress directed a message towards my heart. "Tell me...tell me if I am yours." Hadn't she done this before? My dark mistress likes to play mind games with me. Has she no recollection? That ungrateful bitch. I tell her not to ruin this perfect night. I tell her that I am a son of the moment, and that I cherish each living current second. She thinks too much; why does she have to take everything literally? She had done this to me last time, and my heart was blackened. She thinks she is safe in this hidden enclave full of degenerates. I hope she doesn't think I'll protect her.

Beneath the rustled up coffee shop where we stand, two drunk fellows from the block start to scrap. "Drunken fury" I call it. The fellow in the black jeans punches the black eyed skin-head. The old familiar sound of fist bones clashing against cheek bones. The gasp and the crackling pain, followed by the crunch of bones shattering and the squish of blood filling the newly torn gaps. My dark mistress gasped at the atrocity. Unbeknownst to her that this was the reality of things. This is how we ran things in this enclave. Without a second reason or thought, we resort to our most primitive being. We find it works most efficiently. Has she felt the reality of things? I now hope realization has hit her. I am Alpha. I fucking own her. No more will the dark mistress control me.

I hold her tighter so she would have the illusion of being safer in my arms. I grasp on to her more tightly as each shattering blow incurred. "Get me out of here! If you loved me you would get me out of here! Why the fuck are we still standing here?", my dark mistress yelled and yelled.

"Who the fuck says I love you, bitch? Stand and watch, get it through your thick head I'm not the same person I used to be. I've changed. As each deafening blow, as each suffocating miserable drop of blood falls, I'm going to make you watch it." I throw her up against the coffee shop walls. "Now listen here you. I've got money; I've got uncountable whores waiting to fuck me. Why'd you come back? Just understand it, Faith. I'm deteriorating."


My dark mistress's name: Faith. A coincidence? I don't think so. Heh, just a sign from God himself portraying her as a metaphor in my life. Abandoned by Faith many times, I've loved Faith, I've fucked Faith many times. Hah. See, it just keeps and keeps on going.


I've lost Faith. My dark mistress with her steel green sapphire eyes. She revitalizes me. I will never go wrong with her by my side. Society is afraid of her. Society will not rip me apart if she protects me. She has rescued me from animalism.


My heart shakes and revolts against the sound of her voice. Why do I start weeping? Why has she left me with no choice?