al-bed summer

(chappu's eyes)

beautiful evenings

It's the heat of the moment as she clamors over the sand, bright black stilettos crunching into the sun-bleached bones of some fallen fiend.

Her face is thinly veiled by a material crafted in a pale perspiration of sweat. Her body softly wades through the ocean of sand, the dark folds of a sleek leather dress drinks in the summer air; greedy and without fear of wasting a ceaseless hoard.

A shuffling of feet, a pitter patter of lyrical dust in the breeze, and one of her many (too much) boys (men) comes clamoring behind her in a salute.

But she closes her eyes


why couldn't you be more like chappu


while her lips pray to the fallen gods, and demands for water.

And his shadow falls over her shoulder, a thick velvet liquid, as he blocks the frailness of her vinyl body from a fiend's claw.

Water forms around in the ground, liquefies itself. And there's a scream matching the shrill notes of an echoing violin.

He smiles at her


with chappu's eyes


as the bright black stilettos pivot in the opposite direction, and walk away.

al-bed nights

(chappu's hands)

lust in the air

The Velvet Witch smells the scent of sex in the air.

But she can't touch, can't touch because


chappu won't let me


the moonlit air is silently strumming the strings of a guitar, and the velvet witch is forced to listen to its sweet serenade.

There are three beautiful boys in the sterile air, the scent of their individual sweat lingers in the air.

Two she can have all to herself; one she cannot bear to touch because


he reminds me of chappu


of a bitter sentiment in the atmosphere.

He is forbidden, a fruit that she resists the temptations of.

al-bed midnight

(chappu's face)

fires of love

The flames of celibacy is slowly diminishing in a relentless night.

She's in her cot, black polyester covers matching the seams of black leather. A shadow moves, velvet fibers against harsh stones, as she feels the temptations clawing deep inside of her.

"Why won't you love me?" his voice is musical, lyrical in the dieing light of the moon.


because you remind me too much of chappu


But she bites her lips, knowing it is something not to be said.

She turns around in her cot, and fools her self into dreaming that he is nothing more than chappu's ghost.

al-bed mornings

(chappu's memory)

velvet stripes she can't hold on to


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