Tonight at SinCity some idiot slapped my ass and I growled at him. I swept around faster than I could think about it and caught him by the throat. He was on his knees, unable to breathe in less than a second. Black PVC pants half a size too small hopefully scratching on the floor. Shamefully, I didn’t say I was sorry, but just tossed him away from me. Later he brought me a small bowl of candy without a word. Only handed it to me and nervously walked away.
For almost an hour I sat in a corner, feeling very much alone, sucking on horrid artificial flavoured chunks of mouth slicing sugar blocks. Before that I tried dancing, but the crowded dancefloor made it difficult. Drugged up dancing goths in rubber shorts are dangerous people to be close to. Too many spikes they aren’t paying attention to. It was a miserable night. Someone dropped a glass, smashing it not a metre from my bare feet. I left the house alone, I danced alone. My night a sad symphony of solo. I walked home kept company only by johns slowing down to pick me up and drive me home. Hardly cheerful. My thoughts are pathetic company when I want to cry to tear hearts out. Death incarnate inside my glass fingered hands.
The cherry was standing outside my apartment box unable to get inside. I stood for half an hour considering the different ways to climb my balcony in my fluffy black tutu and constricting trenchcoat. If it had started raining, I would have been off to wake up Marc or Jacques. Into the houses of my friends who’ve given me housekeys and slip into bed to let them wake at my cold feet and tensed fists. “Set the alarm for 8:30?” It would have been the easiest way. Borrow clothing and go straight to work in the morning, trailing my 12 yards of netting behind me on the field. Setting up mortars with my fishnets on.
Sometimes I’m glad I can’t hide my quirks, but more likely I’m glad I’m in no position where I need to. I don’t think I could. I have a secret now that is almost mine, yes, but I am still keeping it for them, not myself.