The secret lovers of logic
Conceived tomorrow’s pleasures
Under electric shadows
In room number seven.
He stretched out on sheets of rust,
Watched the stars burn and said: ‘I think the manager’s dying.’
The dogs were digging at the rain again —
Dark waters in his head.
‘I don’t think he existed.’ she said,
‘It’s lucky we paid in advance.’
He kissed the scent of musk on her thighs,
His fingers teased the moon’s twisted gaze onto her breasts;
Reminders of the deception of pleasure —
A promise paid in advance
At the raging gates of love
Where the snake drove the screw further
Into the broken spirit.
And at ten she said:
‘The only hell is this hell.
(There will be no eleven.)
Here in this motel,
In this dark mouth of pills and tar,
There is no fall like our fall my dear.
Now open your arms my love
For the gleaming storm of heaven.’
In response to daily prompt: Ten
Image: bangkok by Roberto Trombetta / CC BY
I wish I could just bookmark this like a page in a well-worn book, and to hold it close to my heart because it made it stutter. Loved it! You are a master of words.
Wow, thank you for your lovely feedback, Jessica! I’m happy to hear you enjoyed it. 🙂
Wow David- so much there to read over and over again. It has a cinematic quality. Great writing!
Thanks! I’m glad you liked it. It came out quite dark though. I crammed a few ideas into this one, and deliberately left it untagged so not to influence readers’ interpretations. 🙂
You’re welcome. I don’t usually look at the tags, so wouldn’t have influenced me either way. Yes- quite dark.