20100705
and then at night, when the dogs have stopped barking outside, the trains are silenced, cataracts are ripples, birds chirp at the fake glowing streetlight sun, he enters the dark room, from whence a soft blue glow casts the palest, most docile shadow on the wall. the fog is here as well - it's everywhere these days - odorless obfuscation, dimensionless, textureless, entirely without detail and entirely dynamic. the naked man on the bed is waiting, legs up, arms out, staring ahead with an expectant and eager smile. our hero enters the room, stepping gingerly between the folds of the massive velvet drapes that hang from indiscernably high in the dark untouched ceiling. the curtains hardly move as he slinks in, takes one step in and presses his back to the wall. the mens' eyes are locked. our hero takes off his shoes, socks, pants, shirt, underwear. he keeps his back to the wall and his eyes on the man on the bed. he takes sideways steps, never turning, his back always to the wall, sliding along it, until he reaches the corner. he carefully turns himself onto the new wall, as if he were standing on a very thin ledge. he is standing on a very thin ledge. the soft blue glow comes from the depths. he slides along the wall, faster now, his lust giving him courage. he reaches the next corner and carefully turns himself. he stops next to the bed. the man on it has shifted onto his side, casually propped up on one elbow, saying nothing. our hero steps onto the bed and stands above the naked man there. he lies down next to the man, careful that not a single part of their bodies should touch.
