2 AM

   

The following article was published in N-SPHERE October 2009 issue.

 

It rains, it pours. There was a time when I could tap into the circling tears of saints and angels. Now I can only think of the liquid insinuation below my poor broken excuse of a window.

There was a time when my ghostly companion could play the lights of the sky, steal the grotesque thunders off the clouds’ perverted and perverse game board. The ticking on the concrete outside graciously and sadistically traps our thoughts in its claws, eavesdropping on our intimacy.

“Do you have a light?”

“Why do you need it? Have a cigarette. You can’t have a smoke without even a remote idea of a flame. And toast with me in the pale spotlights. For better times and worst memories.”

“Thank you. I’d better run along now. I will see you at the next round of the high and mighty’s uncontrolled game.”

Rewrite the history my friend, if it suits your purpose on this realm.

It rained, it poured.

 

 

by Bahak B

artwork by Vel Thora

Full article here.