In the cold Light of day
“In cold light of morning,
while everyone is yawning,
you're high,
In the cold light of morning,
the party gets boring,
you're high,
As your skin starts to scratch and wave yesterdays action goodbye…
Forget past indiscretions,
and stolen possessions,
you're high,
In the cold light...”
Placebo – In the cold light of morning.
The darkness of the early morning found the two men sleeping side by side, with their bodies pilled up, their skins thrusting to one another with outspoken passion. Shadows shading their naked, fragile bodies, slowly wiping away the midnight sins.
Ashbury’s eyes opened wide with a spark. He tried to get a use of the darkness of the room in order to find his way out, out of his bitter-sweet prison.
Minutes pasted, yet he remained under the delicate linen sheets of Lestat’s bed. He had to leave him though, as he was once more feeling swept away by Lestat’s urge for sexual satisfaction. Ashbury then got aside Lestat and tried to get himself up, but oh the misfortunance, Lestat had his arms around him still. The young priest froze in place listening to the echo of fear,
“Don’t wake up, oh my god, don’t wake up”
“Why wouldn’t I?” replied Lestat with a playful mood,
“No reason really….” said Ashbury as he sighed.
Lestat pressed Ashbury’s chest down, forcing him to lay in bed again, then crawled on top of him, creating a sexual atmosphere once more.
“So, tell me, you wish to get up little one?”
“Yes I do, could you let go of me?”
“What if I don’t want to, what are you willing to do about it?”
“Nothing, just let go, what am I, some sort of toy to you?”
“Fine, just don’t be so brokenhearted about last night, it wasn’t the first time after all…”
“Indeed, you have used me many times in the past to relieve your tension”
“I thought I had explained to you before, do not seek love in my actions for you will find none”
“Not true, there must be a part of you that cares, that loves me, all you need to do is let that part meet the surface”
“Lets not quibble over that matter you said you wanted to go, then go”
“I will then!” said Ashbury.
He got up and left the bedroom in childlike rage, followed the small hallway and reached his own room. The boy locked himself inside his hallowed room for hours, hiding away his endless sorrow. Screaming, moaning and bleeding for him and still he won’t hear his cry out for love. Tears, spilling blood and lip shed poison the gifts of Oizis and Algie upon the young boy, whose heart had been crushed once more by his merciless tutor, Lestat, the banshee of desire.
Though the passion may have strained, it did not break their bonds of affection. It is sadly true that Ashbury, as a little silly child he was, would never let go of Lestat, ignoring his cruel and loveless words.
So, slightly altered by the means of this story, as a hymn of love says,
“He’ll be right here in his arms,
So in love,
He’ll be right here in his arms,
He won’t let go”
H.I.M.
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