Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Bright cities use lost love as fuel.

"Sa'ab there's a parcel for you"

His man-servant placed the red TCS box by his day-bed where he sat, rolling hash joint upon another, inhaling till it bit his lungs senses numbed into submission thoughts tranquil at a temporary peace. When he saw who it was from, he screamed.


The black paper crumpled beneath the long, pale white fingers on his delicate hands, hands all dentists and women would lust for. Three boxes in black inside one large box in red, he opened them one by one.
Tom Ford
Italian Cypress

The black paper broke the silence they had promised they would keep. A silent promise. He had always lived in silences and now he didn't want anything else, anyone else. They broke his silences and superimposed upon his concentric thought waves. Crest trough crest trough crest trough. Anti node Anti node anti anode.
Acqua di Gio
Giorgio Armani

The black paper betrayed no emotions. He screamed at the tall empty walls of his room, consumed by a rage he didn't know he possessed. He screamed at the floor that couldn't stop him from falling. And he had fell.
L'eau d'Issey
Pour Homme
by Issey Miyake

He screamed at the ceiling, at the moon, at the stars, at the mocking black sky.
"Why do they mock me?"
He has asked her once, in pain over things that eluded her..
She had thought for a long moment.
"Because they don't know consequence. Everything you do leaves a permanent imprint on the soul of the universe and everything you do will have a consequence. That is why they mock you."
He had never loved her more, loved her beyond anything he had felt for anyone else, because even her silences spoke to him. Because she seemed to understand the trajectories of his wretched soul. Doctors, psychologists, amulets, nothing worked. He was beyond them, beyond it all. Was he possessed, hurt, betrayed, autistic? they didn't know. He didn't know. He didn't know any other way. Only with her had he ever been human.
He screamed till it hurt his chest. Sat on the floor, panting in rage.

Black ink on pale blue sticky note. His black ink. Skywalker. MontBlanc.
"Because baby, this is sex on fire."
All the scents in the world, but hers didn't seem to be on it.


How many more people could he lose to beautiful cities?