Note:Man who has big and small plans.


I was never into anything like this before, but running the game at a gay club was always so incredibly boring to me that I had to go out and find a more suitable approach to life. The game being cruising for those uncontrollably hot guys that always seem to have a wider chest, bigger ass, and tighter abs. Decking themselves in those provocative jeans that beg to be ripped and plowed through. Exposing the tight flesh that was never quite natural in the florescent lighting, enhanced with glitter, drugs, spandex, and jewelry that define everything that I have grown tired of using.

Don't get me wrong though; I once enjoyed such mundane flesh-pleasures as these. But the flow of going out each night to a burst of fire red, ocean green and sky blue took its toll on my mind. The colors stream together forming a wash of gray and black begging to be erased with something fresh, and replaced with something exotic, new. And, although the realization of what I have wanted to accomplish has only recently surfaced through the blanket of color, and begun to manifest itself through my hands into the material world, I can already feel the pull of flesh between my fingers.

The club I frequented was called The Semi. The design of the structure taken from the Chartres Labyrinth, a circular layout set in a square building, the walls curving into a circle, opening to dead ends and odd rooms. The Labyrinth cresting into a middle point, a clove shape that held from the ceilings hanging cages, from the floor tables wet with human bodies, from the alcoves shackles and broken bones.

In the Myth's and Legends, walking along the walls of this Labyrinth had the power to transform average people into higher beings. But now, in the 21st century, with the morale value of a child, and the disease of a plague scourging the human mind, society has taken atonement to another level. Being 'lifted up' into the arms of God is in the shape of a pill, Blue Dolphins, Six-Pointed Stars; the lashing of a Cat-O-Nine-Tails; a scream from those sweet lips that beg to die. This Club was the perfect place to carry out my deed.

Late at night I would sit and think about those sad lovers I have had inside of me. The men still hot from dancing, still writhing in satisfaction from the drugs. Laying in soothing sleep, softly snoring themselves out of a wasted high. Their breath potent of hard liquor and sweat. The sheets that I forgot to wash again and again, save for the smell that always comforted me, rocked me to blissful sleep; the acrid stench of a wasted man, meeting flesh of nostril, causing the hairs inside to calm and bend at the breeze, and stroking the speech to sleep. These things always waft through my mind while I lay posed on my bed, ridged as the dead, over inside my head again and again the wasted thoughts that bring me back to the erotic thoughts inside my head, over all those dead.

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I had prepared for the evening of doubt, (doubting myself the capacity to do this horrid thing, and doubting the ability of my own weak sanity) with measured caution. The only tool I would need for such a horrible thing was my own body, my own sex and weakness, and an old piece of steel.

The knife, which would complete the task, lay sideways against my wall; point to carpet, handle to plaster. The blade edging deep into the floor, sucking hard on the carpet and opening a nexus of thoughts, which erupt from ground and enter sleeping head. A splatter of green paint decorating the wooden handle flakes as I bring the knife against noise and inhale the acrid smell of raw acrylic. It would do nicely. If the blade didn't destroy, the paint would…

Red light district at 12AM in the morning always made my head spin. The Drag Queens pushing against me, touching my leg, and hair as I compliment them on their clothes; not every man looks good in fishnet stockings. Jocelyn Enriquez comes blazing from an open club, the speakers pounding with the hot throbbing in my head, the red power that rushes through my veins to suffocate my senses.

The streets bring me closer to my destination, the infinite electric surge that pounds, pounds against my lower back where the stinging blade taps my spine as I hit the pavement with my sneakers. My temples aching for release, as if calling on the knife to split my head and rip the beat drums from my head with a fury of basic self-destructiveness.

I'm greeted upon entering the club. Men I've had and slept with, used and discarded pass me, ignorant to the beautiful design, which lies beneath their feet. The walls are decorated with numerous dead ends and short alcoves where two people can slip and fuck for a moment against the granite. Beautiful golden Frisbees protrude from the walls, where one can stop to snort the fine dust of the coca plant.

As I walked the circle, and headed deeper into the landscapes of granite and gold, the lights above became more frantic, fasters. They pulsed around me, and questioned my ability towards sanity, questioned my life as flesh.

My eyes close and watch the waltz of color, the gray and black outlined in psychedelic nonsense-colors. Nazi's controlled and defined the way of thinking during the Holocaust, and this was no different. The light defines who can pass, who has the will to tread the blackened corridors, and come out intact. The light was starving me, depriving me of self-control and nourishment; costing me these precious hours as I blindly stumble in and out of consciousness.

My feet do the damage of walking forward against the tide of light. So far away from the labyrinth of brain that rests inside of me, and slower to be hit, they now control my body movement, and lift me above the tide of mass. Sifting through the tunnels, my hands painted with post-blood that crawls along my arm in a trail of fragile red ant. The music seems to scream off of my body and say 'Touch all thee who come inside of me, destroy all thee who come inside of me. Come inside of me.'

Leather-shrieks come bite at my skin, leaving tiny welts that punch up tender and soft. I see a multitude of men laughing as metal spikes stroke their foolish bodies, tied by leather straps, and broken by the inner strength to destroy. We all destroy, I know we do; human nature kills off human nature in a circle of lust and greed. So what was the crime of skipping a loop in the circle and killing off a vicious young morsel? Nothing came the reply from my dusted mind.

I stood very still and watched as the men circled me, and came up my body with their mouths. The muscles moving so smooth and sweet against my hips and collarbone, so that I could almost sink down into their shuddering lips. I stood so very quiet in the middle of the chamber, and watched as the lights around me danced red with flesh. And in between each catch of breath I felt my hand crawl around my back, and slice against the brittle knife.

It was a moment of silence when I saw the lights bloom from red to green against the twilight, and my world sharply exhaling out of their shuddering lips.
End.