You May Say That I'm A Dreamer

Gray ashes drifted in a velvet waterfall into the overflowing blue glass ashtray. A soft mountain of salt and pepper cigarette waste grabbed smoothly onto the new coming carcinogen dandruff. These swooped through the air from a semi-fresh marlboro. It sat in the slightly pursed lips of Astin. Bright brown eyes with deep green rims stared at the  wall, unnoticing of the magic that the ashes were casting. Long, dangly fingers beat out the rythmn. Slamming in a delicate way on the table. The table that matched the supple green vinyl chair. They hummed to the tune of Lennon's "WorkingClass Hero", that was being broadcast in Astins inner speakers. 
 Quiet eyelids in a quiet head slowly, gently moving back and forth. Up and down, no pattern. Long legs waved to and fro. As one of those dancers in the saloons of the old west might swing her netted limbs. 
 Single shafts of golden morning light smashed through the translucent stained window. Astin jumped, a prick of thought struck her. Omri made no movement. Tapping, tiny mice scurrying across the door. Fingernails searching for a hold. But, no knocking, simply scratching. It couldn't break the noise filled silence. Huge giant sewer rats stamping their feet in a tantrum. A violet-blue hammer shattering the clear barricade. 
 Omri reluctantly pushed the volume switch down with one faintly pink big toe. A small, quite boyish voice spewing from his lips. The sound of a son telling his mother he'll be to dinner in a minute. Astin snapped back to the apartment, the room, with the sound of his voice. Swinging wood, a flash of deep magenta. Then their was the presence of the mirror man. The man whose face was that of your own reflection, a reflection of false sympathy. The sunshine glittered in a glorious nova now in Omri's eyes. Expectation and emaciation swarmed through his blood, boiling it, curdling it with giant massive hungary bubbles. He stared into the mirror mans face, only to see that same hunger within his eyes. All morals fell away, went scurrying into the corner to hide amongst the skeletons in the closet. To make way for what the favor was to be. A faint gleam appeared in the Mans face. Not that of sympathy or apathy, but, that of some form of triumph. Happiness and content if that is what you would call this look. 
 The man with the mirrored face held out what Omri needed, what feeling burned way down deep within him. Lunging for such a beautiful prize, Omri fell onto the wooden floor. A trickle of salty life fell from his lip. But, with this taste came a smile to his face. The sensuous control he felt lured him closer and closer to that pure yearning that lie there in the man's hand. 
 Astin watched as a spectator, mearly uncaring about the man, she was used to the routine. But, the small river that slid down Omri's chin made her hungry as well. Made her want it so much that every morsel of her body became acute, and all the colors except the red drained out of the world. This was the feeling she remembered from the last time the Mirror man collected payment on Omri's obsession. And she knew that they would have to pay again to get this. But, none of it mattered, she wasn't interested in anything other than that beautiful crimson. 
 
 

I See A Red Door And I Want It To Turn Black
 

And Omri sat up, awake. The air he sucked in tasted luxurious like the finest satin cloth. Smooth and fine in his lungs. Stroking and patting the tissue- Easing the suffering, soothing the blood that had choked them, had clogged him with rusty aftermath. He looked around, his eyes soaking up all the beauty. Everything was tasty, Delicious ecstasy to lick, like liquid taffy beauteousness.Runny, melting candy, a tasteful endlessness. Omri went reeling into a mental cosmos. There before him sat the world. Gorgeous in it's entirety and entity. A giant music box of tinkling happiness. Then the room became his view, and along with it, Astin, sitting in the corner, staring at the ceiling. 
 Although his fingers melted in with the floor, he had nearly no trouble creeping his way over to her. She sat shivering, and he knew why she shook so. He had left again, like he always did, to fulfill that inner yearing. Had left her there all alone. Their eyes met in a fusion. Burning were his while hers let out an ocean of water. 
 She shook even harder when he comforted her and prepared himself. The rope needed to be tied tight, and the edge needed to be sharp. His already scarred and bruised flesh gave way easily under the pressure of the steel blade. Into the world glowed that red. That crimson drug that she needed. 
 Astin grasped her hands hard together at the sight of that scarlet. This time it was her turn to burn brightly inside. The world again changed from color to monochrome. Everything except for that color. That one that meant another day of life, another day was all she needed then. Her mouth met the skin in a clammy licking. first it touched her tongue, and then her throat, soothing each pain as it made its way through her body. Transferring Omri into her. Making his desires her treatment. Letting her mouth water and mix with that lovely taste of dreams. The simple sensousness of it made her want it even more. This made her want the retribution more than anything. And Astin knew that this was the plan. That was what the mirror man wanted her to think. That was what they were all supposed to think. 
 Omri pulled away as quickly as he could. Falling down, sinking halfway through the thick floor. It was masterful, the feeling of being a slightly detached part of everything. Just being a part seemed enough. Nothing now came into his view, for nothing else mattered. Nothing else was sacred enough now for him to care about. Nothing was held closer to his heart than that of the mans needs. Astin sat across from Omri. Letting his features slide infront of her face, off of his. Until he melted into that other man. Not the Mirror Man, but the other one. And he whispered her of what was next. The miracle to be cast upon them. Upon them all. And she knew what he meant. He meant that their was to be a gathering. The man let the air flow into her ear, whilst telling her to get the others and bring them to the gathering. She listened, and Omri started off the floor to begin...
 

Nobody Loves Me, Not Like You Do
 

In the deep reserves of the lowest part of the mind, there is a certain little part that hides. An aspect of everyone that no one wants you to know about, a secret shall we say, a secret someone inside. Dr. Jekyll meets Mr. Hyde. From the reserve crawled the Sir himself, Grandious in his reptilian skin with wings of bat and hooves of horse. He was impitamy of all evil concentrated into one fallen angel. But the churchgoers and nay-sayers are wrong, the Sir does not dwell in the bowels of a hungry earth, covered in molten lava, ready to boil the sinners. He dwells in the spot of confidentiality within us all. In that certain small cavern afor spoken of. Just as he dwelt within Omri and Astin, along with the others that day. The day of the sacrifice...That night of sacrifice....
 
 

The Monsters' Gone, He's on The Run and Your Daddy's Here
 

Omri gazed in paralyzed wonder as the cross was lowered. Swinging back and forth, see-sawing through the air slicing it as a hanged corpse slices through the sun. It thudded against the floor with an echoeing tympani roll. The drum solo that so thoughtfully preceeded the main event. Omri's pupilized eyes that were set far back in his face, far enough to make them look like hollow holes,stared at the engraven details. 
In the middle was the semblance of a woman. Not in a specific sense, but generic in originality. Swallowing her feet were giant licking orange and red tongues'. They lapped against her flesh and bit at her legs. He sat, sucked into the carving so that when Astin touched him, his muscles all let go as her collapsed to the floor. His body in a pile of faintness. Astin did not pretend to care about his nullified state. The human love for him was vanquished by her love for the purpose of the cross. Her face burned with the passion that marks great things. With each movement of the crowd the grin inside her features seemed to get greater and spread. Until the wicked smile enveloped the entire crowd. Astin was disengaged watching her own movements from a distance, yet being able to feel all of the anticipation and anxiety towards the outcome.
 Ahead stood She. She who was to be given over to the inner needs of the people. The crowd stood in massive rows surrounding the altar. Fires that burned in a repetitive sphere around them lit their faces, showing them all in their new clothes. The things that draped them came from the soul, that secret inner place were Lucifer lives within us all. Astin blocked out the world and the words that spilled from her lips. Concious of their movement but completely unaware of the rythmn to which they harmonized. She could see Omri, his disallusioness shining through his face, and every stiff jointed motion he made. He wedged his thin fingers into the handle and using every unfeelable portion of his strength, lifted the mighty cross' top. The enormous hinges letting out a faintly rusty creak, like that of a secret room within the confines of an ancient castle. 
 The reluctant one, the She, stood before Astin. Her soft doe eyes pleading with her in a silent fit. Astin touched her perspiring arm, and thus drew her to her final resting place. No writhing did she produce, no screams, no prayers, no last wishes or pleas did she make. Compliance was writted accross her face as she was lowered into the groove within the cross. That groove that seemed to fit the mold of her body with a perfection otherwise unknown. Deep sighs issued from her and still that silent look, but Astin had not a care for those things, not a care whatsoever. Omri could be heard in the distance, saying something in an unknown tongue, but it was all fuzzy and seen through that cloud of sleep or maybe that cloud of unrepressable desire. The crowd chanted in unearthly tones and the sacrifice let out a single teardrop. That was all that Astin could see as the cross lid closed....A coffin lid of an extremely delicate nature. 
 In a single moment, after the screams stopped and the sound of spikes eating away at flesh ceased, it came. That love of everbinding passion came. In poured out of the cracks. The holes that the freshly pounded in stakes had make oozed with a scarlet fountain. They let out bubbling falls of blood, frothing like faint river rapids. This was the payback. This was also the benifit. As Astin stood their, the red was her reality. Was her reason to move on through this semblance of life. Omri stared at the face of his corrupted love, in an awestruck horror of the ecstasy it displayed. The crowd drew silent, all eyes trained on the flow, all mouths salivating, their imagination tasting the copper. The disgust mingled wtih the passion. One plane saying that this would be the last time, the other saying that this was the beggining anew. Though the repulsion was high, the reverance flew higher than any else and Astin knew she would be in the position she held again. Just as Omri knew that her love for it would draw him with her to this place again. This place in the back of his mind were that mythical animal dwells. That Lucifer.
 
 

The End?