Summary: A modern take on Pandora’s Box with elements of romance and horror.
All around me the crowd seemed in a trance, enslaved by the heavy bass and the sporadic light.Their winding bodies moved like a tangled mess of flailing limbs, drowning in the stench of alcohol, cologne and blissful ignorance. The music was loud and repetitive, like a cicada buzzing in my ears. My vision see-sawed as an empty bottle slept in my hand, and a couple— or probably not— had their tongues down each others’ throats just a few feet away from me.
Here I was standing, my heart feeling like someone took it and wrung it dry of happiness. Imagine having a girl in your life, or a guy—whatever your prefer— someone you thought was special. I don’t mean hallmark card special or give them extra class time to write a test special. I mean fucking special— in the ways they made you feel.
Now imagine they turn to you one day and tell you they just couldn’t do it anymore. The thing about special is it makes everything else special; and then, when it’s gone, it all turns dull. Not dull like a pencil that needs sharpening, or dull like that kid who still needs extra class time to write a test. Dull, like no amount of alcohol or scantly dressed women could make the world whole again.
Continue reading “Pandora”
A Dude’s Five-Step Guide to (Easier) Relationships:
*This is not a guide on how to make relationships work, but how to make relationships less work. I bear no responsibility for any break-ups, divorces, cases of infidelity, broken dinnerware projectiles, and changes of sexual orientation that may result from following these steps*
As our lips locked, I’d have swallowed the key
If this wasn’t where she wanted to be,
Alone in this crowded place,
Where our hands knew only haste
Though we were strangers to each others’ names
With the newborn night to play Passion’s game
She had a smile like a shotgun buck shot,
Eyes that would paint a red dot on a man’s heart
I could see she was fire;
She only knew how to burn,
But I threw myself at her again
Losing a lesson once learned:
The most dangerous of girls sits at the top of her world
She broke away first
Having only whet my thirst,
She gave me a box to hold, but never open,
Five minutes and she’d return,
The burning yearning
I felt as her heels started turning
Planted in me the seed of need.
As the night swallowed her up, I could almost see:
She was as best as asbestos for me.
Five lonely minutes passed,
A sour hour,
The clock turned
She didn’t return
The impression she’d made was like no other girl;
I’d a taste of her body but starved for the soul of her,
I opened the box of secrets she didn’t bother to lock
And with that leveled myself and a whole city block