She could not focus on the fluid seeping from the wall. Squinting her eyes was giving her a migraine. Her breathing was inconsistent, sexually charged; at least with a twinge of desire, possibly encouraged by her affinity to blood and ether. She had the needle protruding loosely from her arteries. Her pussy filled her nostrils with the aroma of the men she had allowed into her body. The mold grew up her thighs.
There had not been any liquid in her eyes since the last time she thought she fell in love. Today was different. The morning air promised no future to her dreams. Her desperation had been humbled and crutched to a meager “yelp” reminiscent of a phlegmy inhalation. There was no love left.
“Why does this morning hurt so bad?” she pondered.
She knew the answer to her queries, the reasons for the wetness in her eyes, the pain in her chest. She placed the ether rag up to her face and breathed deeply as her head grew light. She could feel her humanity coming back to her. The odor was attaching itself to her brain and seemed to penetrate her like a bukaki party. Was this the most human she could feel?
Her flesh did not belong to her anymore. It had been given away to seven naked, horsemen who were traveling across the desert. They had placed the tiny vials of meat inside their side packs, keeping them close to their bodies to ward off the demons of the white desert. The horseman to the left of the captain looked at her eyes. There was a sadness in him that repulsed her. It was he who gave her the ether, he who gave her the needles and the pain!
She fell to the ground as the horsemen departed. The gaping holes left in her tattered body filled with red ants and puss; an excellent meal for the flesh eating scorpions living beneath the earth. She was aroused again. Her clitoris was sensitive, her vaginal walls turned to carnivorous beasts slashing and gnashing and bashing at the cock that entered within it. They could not be satisfied. They need to eat the meat set before them. It would not suffice to be pleased with intimacy, but instead a pleasure found through the mutilation of the intruder.
The boy who’s penis had entered her cunt was uncertain of his misstep. His eyes had fallen into her soul and saw only beauty. He was not sure of the shadows lurking behind her hair. To him her face was molded with morning dew, her voice was a tender kiss, he did not see the needles or smell the ether. He was, in fact certain that by her opening to him that their unity was beyond temporal needs. He had found perfection in this moment. He had found desire beyond sexuality and a truth untainted by honesty.
He left the right ventricle of his heart beside her bed as she lay facing the blank, puke colored wall.
Her silence took the boy away.
She finally allowed the tears to fall, placing the ether bottle beneath her eyes the salty drops fell in to the poison. Her lips separated from each other and her mouth opened as she poured her poisoned sadness down her drying throat.
Her eyes drifted away as her hallucinations dissolved into the immediacy of her predicament. She was dying. But worst of all, she realized as she clenched at the ventricle resting on the bed, was this sadness was for him to take. He had offered his life in a trade for her happiness. He had given himself to her freely and willingly. He had wanted nothing in return but the taste of her mouth… and perhaps a replacement part for his heart.
This could have been love.
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