Seeking pleasures in dark rooms with pilfered lights, trombones wielding threads that bind erotic couples in the dim wispy curls of smoke. Desires of drink and virtues lost in the folding of nights into days, thick with beating temples and vacuous heaves…delivering nothing of the night’s pursuits.

Gossamer veils reduce the truths of the moment. Childish tantrums get thrown across the rooms at young tender hearts that misunderstand the hurt they’ve caused, yet remain willing to return to the tainted, selfish laps of the throbbing mass.

Jazzy sounds envelop and caress thin skins, emboldens approaches and questioning stares across the spaces in between. The thirst for society, impressions, drink, opioid delusions, and validation, becomes the road most travelled, to the door least opened.

The misery of an empty chase erodes the surface of pretensions, destroys the so-called commitments and drills holes in the façade of relationships, leaving all spent and breathless against the welcoming wooden floors.

Society recedes as if seeing for the first time the intruders trying to fold themselves into the unwatched corners, hoping to grow into something more, something they deem real. Left alone, the lights begin to brighten, and the glare becomes the seer as the veil fades away. What remains is a twisted reality folded neatly into pillows for heads to rest on while pondering life in the daylight. Abandoned we see each other.

Inspired by The Beautiful and the Damned by F. Scott Fitzgerald

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