Indispensable Lust

Hold my hand. I beg and plead for a fingertip, a skeletal embrace that touches mine, that is all I need. Please rid me of these icy claws that choke my neck, paralysing me, the ones holding me against my will. They tattoo my skin, black tar fills my throat, I choke, and no one aids me. Laying, my body is a doll, the fragile porcelain fractured, my legs clicked into shape, blackness seeps and caresses the floor. I am alone and left a shattered mirror. But it calls for me, that little glass, it plays with me. Gleaming and flickering, somewhat laughing at me, mocking me, it sits in the corner. I hiss at it; it shows no response. My arm is its lover, reaching out, begging for the embrace. I refuse. My mind is tangled, tumults of thoughts clatter and climb; they chitter with one another, it hurts, and my arm knows. The glass is reaching out, and my arm follows. I know that glass, that sickened glass poisons my tongue. It coats it with lust, hunger, and longing as it masks the cuts it makes under my chin. The longing lets my throat embrace the contents, sipping and swallowing the commands of this stupid glass. This glass knows I need it, my arm and tongue tell it so. My mind is silent, my tongue refuses any communication. The tangles of thoughts multiply as this broken doll cracks its ankles, helping my arm push forward, closer to the glass. Closer now, the glass is in arms reach. My arm is weeping, tears of lust mix with the black tar, my mind is overridden, the arm has won.

I wake up, my lips are swollen, pieces of glass cling onto my peeling lips, those minuscule mirrors show nothing. These daggers fall as my thumb tackles them, I wince, the glass attaches to my thumb, blood seeps. The glass has left the corner, darkness swallows the area as the glass sits dangerously close, empty and gleaming. My arm embraces the glass, this broken, fractured glass feels comfort, as the contents fester in my throat. It bubbles and feeds at my flesh, it burns as I want to chuck it out again. It holds such a tight grip; my throat obeys and settles. I try to sit up, the world crashes over me, the waves make me gasp, my breath is lost. I splutter for air; the air surrounds me but just watches me as I grasp for it. It does not care, it just stares. My mouth widens, my eyes madden, and at last air trickles into my teeth. At last my body is comforted; the world quietens, and the room saddens. This room is too spacious, air circulates too freely and the door is far. Far out of grasp, far out of mind, and too far to even think of leaving. I contemplate curling up, holding a position that shuts out the air, but that glass stares contently, I must not look away. A ring echoes through this open room, it doesn’t surprise me but somewhat comforts me. I let it fill the room, fill my senses, and the room grows lighter, easier. The ringing concludes. The room crashes, the multitudes of darkness swarm and that glass expands with glee. I grow mad, needing to hear something, anything. Crazed with desperation, I launch for the phone, my fingers frantic, I call. It beeps and the room is filled with this ticking clock. I slump and hold it to my ear; I soften into the floor.

‘Hello?’

The voice is deafening, I stiffen, the ticking has stopped. Why is the glass closer?

‘Hello? Anna, are you okay?’

A tone of worry resonates through the phone – maybe you imagined it – but still my throat holds my tongue. I want to sob, cry into the phone and rest on the shoulder of this cold metal, but my eyes are crazed, no tears are left to lose.

‘Anna, I just wanted to check on you. How’s everything going, we haven’t heard from you in a while.’

We. That word is spat out – she’s with someone else - but I look past it. I need to stop this.

‘I’m fine. Just a bit tired. I’ve been busy. Sorry I haven’t called’

My voice is hoarse, and I speak in a hushed tone, as if that glass is watching what I say. It is. I want this to end now, the call has taken its course – it’s been 34 seconds, we need to go – I need any other sound.

‘Well we just wanted to say we miss you, are you sure everything’s okay?’

That tone of voice presents itself as an unwanted visitor again – she’s lying – but I don’t care. I need to go.

‘Miss you too, I’m going to go now. And yes, everything is great’

I hiss the word out. Great. I should have said amazing, fantastic, I should have screamed it. I should say I need them – no you don’t, just like you said, you're great – maybe next time.

I end the call.

The beeping fills the room, I look at the glass. It's so close but empty. Why is it empty? It needs to be filled; no glass can be unfilled. I’m mad again, looking frantically and yearningly. What’s wrong with you? That twinkle meets my eye, pulling my face, asking for a kiss, I need it. I smile, a love-sick grin fills my face. I’m a fool in love being pulled by their lover as I lean in, grasping them close. The cold glass hits my face, it's cold and menacing as it opens up. Flooding its lies into me, the contents gush down my throat. I relish in relieve, I laugh, cackling with glee as this glass holds my teeth. More. I lose satisfaction soon enough. The lover falls to the floor, I’m lost, I cry for another. Craving for love, I call out for another. Lust travels and hits a tall glass figure, it's beautiful. It looks at me, I sheepishly grin and run towards it. It fills my kisses and tells me its problems, its worthless stories, and weeping memories. I listen to it all, my throat agonises. Just drink. I obey.

Now look at you. Left on the floor and you sleep so soundly. The glasses and bottles surround you, and like a summoning, you’re in the centre. You’re the baby, the floor is your crib, you need me for guidance. They won’t help you, only I will, drink the contents, forget your mistakes and listen to me. Hear my whispers and go for another glass, I know they stare but they only want your hand. Waltz with them and stay in this room, stay in this darkness, it will soon comfort you.

You just have to drink more.