after-death

the actual sequel to death at a sex show

spiders crawling over my feet as i lay there
panting.
she lights her second cigarette and pauses

thinking,
postulating probabilities of possibilities
believing in every one.
she ashes
some of it falls in the spider's trail
she exhales
a perfect O
framing her face for a moment
before it dissapates
emotions flutter across her face
spirituality runs into her heart-
hesitates, turns, and runs to her brain
hedonism seeming to have more flowers
hiding all the thorns
but this empty justification is what she clings to
i see this as though i know her somehow
a junkie romance
of the very worst sort
driven to tears
hiding my face against a brick wall
ashamed of my emotions
wanting to believe
as she does
that it was nothing
masquerading as something
wondering
whether or not it was a facade
placating my nerves, believing in myself
believing in second chances
at uncovering intimacy
inside of lust

she looks me in the eye
i can see a glimmer of desire
it was deeper then i'd hoped
she blinks a tear out of her eye suddenly
cursing the smoke
and wiping the desire from her eyes
she stands and half smiles at me

"maybe in another life"

a billion unspoken wishes
falling to the street
dying
gasping for air-
panting
and falling asleep forever