The Show Must Go On (A Prose)

"Inside my heart is breaking
My make-up may be flaking
But my smile still stays on.
Whatever happens, I'll leave it all to chance
Another heartache, another failed romance
On and on, does anybody know what we are living for?" - Queen

Lost in the abyss of his mind’s ebb laid the distant fragments of a past he once knew. As he attempted to decipher and to create meaning out of this conundrum, pieces of him shattered even further. He was empty. The bludgeoning of chance had brought him deeper down the path of abomination. Cursed, he searched for his breath – lost like a stolen wind.

Love, or in whatever manifestation of it which he could comprehend, laid spread-legged in the dark, cobbled alleyways beyond the city walls. With her wretched, soulless stare she waited for him, beckoning him, seducing him with her vile fragrance. In a language unspoken, she would sing a song, enchanting yet vulgar, which can only be heard by those who could afford her. Love, was available to the highest bidder.

He found his breath buried deep within her bosom, and pleasure between her legs. He shared with her his inner secrets, and Love answered in insatiable moans. Dancing between the satin sheets, not a whimper from the streets could disrupt the placidity throbbing within his body. Feeling every inch of her body, he soon climaxed into a crescendo of his own deception.

He was but another fool in her eyes. When morning arrives, Love, as he knew it, would laugh at his frailty.

The show must go on.

- Inspired by August Man, February 2008.