Chapter I

 Piss fills my lungs. In the dead silence my match was lit and still hate the taste of tobacco. The bed is filled with detachment from fulfilled attachments. The exchange of niceties rise from the floorboards. Back and forth, back and forth like a gentleman’s game of ping-pong or skilled tennis players. This cigarette is yet to impress me.

The niceties don’t slow as I wonder how they do it I reach for my holster and exhale smoke into the room, a la French, and prefer my skill set to theirs in general although the familiarity of their banter beckons me in this moment.

In fact I have come to hate this room more than my cigarette. I cough as smoke is stuck in my lungs and remove the gun from it’s holster to balance myself. Cigarettes. I swear they put piss in these things. I wish she was still here. An angel by my side never disloyal and as close as a sister and a better fuck than any porno.

Red on the wall and smell of iron is what the mouse tells me. Into the room she greets me with the kiss of death. Her lip lock demands I listen to the story of her murder.

The mouse sees that her ghost has got the story from here and retreats to it’s home beneath the mahogany dresser only to comment from time to time with slurries within the wall.  

Her lips suck the life out of me as she places my cold hands on her deathly frozen breasts and the icy tips of her fingers close around my warm cock and I know she wants me inside her dead carcasse. Her bloody body draws me towards the bed. Suddenly I get the sensation of being naked little boy in the presence of a mature older woman.

He eastern star of my great great grandmother comes to mind unexpectedly. I wish I wasn’t alone in this woman with this gorgeous still figure lying disgraced in front of me. I feel as though I am in over my head. If she was alive she would be beckoning me to fuck her without a condom so as to give her a child and a future but she is not alive, so no seductive calls associated with movements occur. 

A wave of confusion overwhelms my mind. The loss of life placed in my hands is staggering. I stagger like I have been hit in the chest and my hands flail without the command of my mind. I have to get out of here. I need to get out of this room.

I will die in this room with her if I can’t pull myself together. Her naked body has lost it’s glow. I have no idea who she is. Her eyes open. I jump. I check her pulse because she is not breathing. Nothing. I close her eyelids. I open her eyelids. I close her eyelids. The door slams behind me.

I just want to fuck her one more time. To eat her out. To kiss her mouth. That is all over now. The only passion I will know now is to fuck a man. I have never even touched a man in a sexual way before. She was all I’ve ever needed.

As I walk out of the room a tear falls down my face as I look at my beloved, wife of ten years, bloody corpse one last time.

I walk down the stairs and there are two black men wearing white face. I walk over and shoot one with my gun. The ceiling above the cash register is dripping blood. The other man puts a glass away and takes a shot of Hennessy and washes his face. I empty the cash register and light a match.

The door to hell

Is always there

It cannot be destroyed or hid

The door to hell

Is always there

With an open lid

The door to hell

Becomes the cross

A man carries all day long

The door to hell

Becomes a ring

Inside a woman’s dream