jessewestend

Huxley was overwhelmed by the taste of her. Bare legs wrapped around his back as fierce, delicate hands pulled hard at his hair from behind. She was clawing at him savagely, as if in anger; she clearly enjoyed it. She seemed almost to need it. He was lost in the moment. He could neither remember how it was he came to be here, or where here was. In his mind, there was no time before this moment, there were no thoughts of what would come after. There was no such thing as time at all. His thoughts were intangible at best: a jumbled list of instructions coming from some instinctual source, carried out by a body no longer in his control. His heart was a drum, pounding out blood at a hectic pace. It was as if he were watching from above, his departed soul staring down at the top of her tussled head of hair, rising and falling to their perfect rhythm. All his faculties were focused on touch, as if his future depended upon following the patterns of this dance to the step. Sex had never felt like this before. Suddenly it was all terribly important. Suddenly life was important. Life, death, God. All real and important. He felt his hands play her skin like a Tom Waits piano piece: evil, dark, and heavy, rolling rhythm and pounding out muted harmonies. Rising and falling around him, the walls of the room seemed to be moving in and out like living tissue. Their love was a cancer and this moment, the death throws....


The Red Train

He had been under her spell from the very beginning; since he first saw her waiting for the southbound, express, red-line train. He was across the tracks, waiting for the north-bound brown line, impatiently smoking his fourth straight Camel Filter. There were razors where his finger bones should be, and his skin felt bloody and broken. There was a rheumatoid, palsied shaking in whichever hand was exposed to the elements of the harsh city night as the cold wind blew free newspapers all around his equally frozen feet. No one had read them. The bums had moved indoors to hide from the cold and so their trash mattresses with inky sheets had been abandoned. They were always blowing about on nights like this....


(anyone wanna hear the rest?)