Your Gold Mind

11.08.2024 (written 02.10.2021)

In the evening, I stand on my balcony, squeezed into the tiny corner of the platform. The sun is beautiful, shining down on the streets below, the piles of junk and rubble illuminated in the blood red glow, junkies hiding in the shadows, their veins seeming to pop out from the glow. Bricks fall off the concrete buildings, dragging behind them a trail of dust like snow flakes under the light. It hits one the smackers on the foot, but he just looks irritated, like a mosquito stung him, and continues to drag the limp appendage behind him as he walks down the street. The masses are drawn to the street when the shadows get this long, like house plants or moss they grow and thrive where the street is dark and cool.

I hear you in the living room, moaning and shouting incoherently. It excites me to no end. My coarse veins are flushed clean by the pumping of aroused blood. I drop to the couch, settling comfortably next to you in the warmth of the fabric, moist with blood and urine. I stroke the nub of your arm, still black and gangrenous with poisoned blood, pulsing under the surface, foolishly desperate to keep alive what we set free. One of your legs, the right one, has taken in the same conviction, yearning to separate, the darkness of the void shining now through its skin. I kiss it and lick it as you pull up the needle. I feel the most royal pain inside you, spreading out from you into the world, dying, corrupting, wanting to breathe. The needle slips softly into my spine, the pain connecting us, making us one with the world. My jaw tenses up with pleasure, and I accidentally bite into your flesh. The warm pleasure is seeping into me from everywhere now, your blood is death, and death is my purpose. I know I must atone for my mistakes, but I cannot stop myself now. I pull up my shirt, the black emptiness collected in my breasts, and harshly, desperately pull in your head. I feel you sucking, biting, gnawing away at my potential, the life within me; the end of continuity. You know as well as me there is something golden hidden beneath. Our finger nails, grown thick and rough, dig into our flesh, sucking from the bruises. Fluids soak the fabric, the two of us joined in primordial safety. The day doesn’t end. It is over too soon.