One day in the search of the elite clan, they find what they think may be their savior. Their last hope after their love's abandoned them and God has seemed to turn his cheek away. It's just a substance they almost innocently stumbled upon, if that's possible. Heroin was not the savior they expected but the easiest and most available. Heroin or Cocaine actually, either one. As long as it was shiny white or flat brown, dilutable and capable of being drawn through a syringe ... everyone had their drug of choice.
The serum was sucked from a soup spoon through a tiny cotton filter taken from a half smoked Camel. A needle then pierced the flesh, painlessly entering a warm waiting vein. A drawn plunger visibly mixed the serum with the victim's blood. The mixture was then injected ... slowly. To the victim's own surprise, they liked it; too much. The body gets a masochistic thrill the very moment skin breaks. Goosebumps become obviously evident. As the band releases and the serum is allowed to flow freely all pain and problems instantaneously disappear. Facial expressions transform immediately from disgust to pure relief. A warm feeling of ecstasy rushes through the veins and settles with warm comforting pleasure in the base of the neck. This terrible world wasn't so bad and the evils of people didn't matter much now. Pain became a thing to play with. The night was mystical and magical. Music became almost heavenly and the clan were so content that sex was unnecessary. Sex was just an extra pleasure they could add to the evening without distraction. The victim's became the vampire slaves to the new master that controlled them.
One of them (the lost one) sometimes felt like a caged zoo animal ... released. Unleashed from the prison forced upon him since childhood by a cruel inhumane society. He didn't just blame everyone else for his state of mind. He also blamed his own ignorance. For the time being, however; (purely instinct and reason to live upon) there was no room for thinking or man's so called logic. Man's logic is cold and unfeeling. The world became his den and his imagination the territory. The only limits or boundaries were those put up to safeguard himself.
He listened to Louis Armstrong, the great "Sachmo", sing 'What A Wonderful World' and realized at one time, it most likely was. His cat rests in his lap. Protecting him. Wild birds outside the window sang his song while he peacefully watched from the wooden windowsill. Paint peeled from the sill revealing wood with claw marks from a previous animal's attempted escape. No predator would harm him, only the "domestic people" were cruel enough to do that ... just not here in his domain.
Few escape this life of slavery. Bound to a needle that bring's them to their idea of normalcy. They become lost shells of human beings caught in a dimension of unrealistic escapism. The majority who live by the needle, die by it. A smaller minority are slaves to the needle until the day they die of another cause. Some beat their shiny enemy. Escaping their former master and manage to learn and live on their own. The luckiest survivors find themselves a relatively happy medium in life and realize there's much more to living than they ever imagined. The key is to see past the "domestics" and realize all people as individuals. Take them for who they are ... that's all.
Beautiful things are beautiful and cherished. Ugly is accepted as ugly and dealt with as appropriately as possible. Most important, everything is not always as it seems on the surface; making it necessary to delve deeper inside. True beauty is eternal. The world is a stubborn place and it cannot be changed, only interpreted.
All of those who beat the vampire king and evolve into better human beings know and accept one thing -- there's always a debt to pay.
That's it ...
No comments:
Post a Comment