COUNTRY CLUB

TWENTY THREE

It's hard to communicate with myself. They removed all the mirrors from my room to forget what I look like and see my reflection on mirrors while walking down the street. Unlike the unknown, I tried drawing a ladder that will help me get out of here, but then I realized my loneliness couldn't manifest a new reality for me. I had to take a step back, search for the piece I buried in Paradise before I left. When I came back I noticed the thin line between time and survival, time can expand as vast as our unknown; When it comes to survival, time detaches from itself, loses its identity, it no longer realizes its surroundings. Time chooses to swallow us whole whenever it desires, it's so full of itself that it nibbles on our crumbs to cue boredom. Quick memory erase, I have to figure my shit out on my own. My problem is that I write things down my head, thinking that the angels will watch out for the marvellous ideas and stores them somewhere we'd only know. I don't know who lured who, but all I know is that my doorman is a backstabber, literally. The thing about people here is that they're aware of being alone but they're not lonely, to be aware is a risk. Being aware of risk can never help you look for light amid the fog. Those lonely people though, make my heart wrench. It's like the biggest reason they are alone is because they're misunderstood, convinced that they'll never be loved. I saw an old man once around Central Park, I was out of breath, Kraze had lost it on me again. He would kneel and pick one thing after the other, a bottle of water and his reading glasses, and I could see his backbone. A dotted line, unable to carry the weight of the world anymore. I wondered how many people left their whispers on this man's backbone, how did it react against the enemy's breath? Did it twist forward or arch back at the sound of his lover? All my sacrifices are fated to be written in a book full of lies, where every word runs through every reader's veins like poison. I never insist to fall, I already told you; my doorman pushed me of the moon. I was safe up there, maybe he thought I'd be way safer with you. If we meet again, I hope you whisper every word on my spine like it's the last; for we never know when we'd be called liars, despite all the sacrifices we've made.

"This is just an excerpt," whispered Dune, they've been lying under the moonlight for hours to count, her head rested perfectly against his chest as she read while he held the journal, positioned it on his torso. Rafe had taken his checkered shirt off and dressed Dune in it, doing its buttons while maintaining eye contact with her. The monsters begged to come in, but Rafe didn't let them come near, two monsters can contaminate one room with death. Death slipped out of his mouth like smoke, "You're like death, your skin kills everyone who touches it, but I can't help it. Your touch derives me from my monster, brings me back to life. As much as I want to merge our worlds into one, I can't set our hideaway on fire."

The way he spoke to her grew a field of butterflies in her stomach, every new butterfly fought for a place, to point where they started biting on each other's wings. Who knew butterflies had hearts full of teeth? They've reached the unknown, what's next? She wanted to ask, but whenever she opened her mouth to speak Rafe would hover over her, putting the world to sleep, making sure her eyes remained wide open. One kiss saves a pretty liar. Charm, wit, kingdom come. The first half of the night got spent over reading the journal, Dune had sure to swallow every paper that had a confession, a secret message, or a pieces of the truth. If she wanted death to barge in now, she wouldn't have destroyed her stomach. She's addicted, for every time their lips met she couldn't help but smile. They wanted nothing more than that, smiling against each other's mouths for hours in a place they've envisioned in their heads yet turned out to be as real as the crimes they committed.

They were dressed in neater clothes, their skins smelled like mint and salt. He let Dune go in first, flowers bloomed on every part of her skin. I'm jealous of the petals sniffing your skin, as much as they're kind one's eyes, fear the pretty things my love. For a moment, Dune hesitated to close her eyes, she feared she might drown again, not because of her bad swimming but of the devil's hands around her neck. Would he kill me the same exact way I saved him? she thought. Her thoughts were her biggest backstabbers, anything to have her lose her mind. She survived after all, contaminated by greed that she spent two hours, to decades in the bath. Greed didn't tug at her hair solely, he watched the whole thing. He watched her intently, the way she would sniff the flowers and caress her skin, despair taught her how to be patient with herself, to treat her own touch as if she was caressed by fire. It aroused his curiosity, her calmness, her patience, the purple light surrounding her irises. Sapphire empress had to live off cheap dye and leather jackets, a cult that doesn't really exist and an oath that changes her life into something sweet. The sweetness in her life was partially non-existent, perhaps she left the door ajar, perhaps the syrupy sweetness of life expired on her doorstep, turning into pure bitterness.

Bittersweet was the only way to describe her. She knew he was watching, it took her a second to wrap herself in a towel and put one foot in front of the other. Making her way towards him, water dripped down her shoulders, a detached rose petal resided in the depth of her collarbones. He leaned down against her neck, blew off the petal and made it fly across the room. The thin line between love and hate, the voices were too high.

"You better get dressed otherwise you'll get sick, people like us cannot get sick."

"Thank you for the flowers, they made fall back In touch with humanity. Rafe, promise me you'll never let go of me. I can't sleep next to you and wake up next day with you being long gone. This dynasty is yours, the moon is our witness, Ward and the Pogues are just a fading memory. It's you and I now, we have to finish what we started. Remember what you told me when we were in Washington?"

"Do not worry, we'll crash into the unknown, a dot between the sea and the forest. We'll sleep under the trees and bathe within the waves. If fate loves people like us, we'll reunite. People like us reunite once in a lifetime to look for answers in the pouring rain. What are we going to do now that we met again? We'll never let go of each other."

They whispered in unison, anyone could be eavesdropping, anyone could be plotting their death, knitting what they'd wear in their corpses. They smiled, fuelled the moon with gasoline until it dries off its surface, it hurts no one to be cautious.