Bad Cowboys

I wrote this piece my junior year in high school, way back in 2003. I edited it a few days ago, and have decided that I still like it enough to put it up here. Hope you enjoy!

He placed the cigarette between his lips, set the half empty pack on the counter, and picked up his cheap plastic lighter. With a flick of his thumb he brought a beacon of light to the dimly lit, crowded room. He lit the cigarette and inhaled the bitter smoke, holding it inside his lungs for a few moments before exhaling, adding his own smoke to the fog that hovered over the the crowded dance hall.

His eyes wondered lazily about, watching men in their expensive cowboy hats show off their cheaply dressed women. His eyes drifted from the dance floor to the bar, and as he scanned the people surrounding it, he saw her.

She was huddled in a corner by herself, trapped between the bar and the wall. Her mousy brown hair was pulled back in a haphazard pony tail, but the glasses that obscured her eyes spoke of money. She wore a bland sweatshirt that was several sizes to large for her, and well worn but obviously tailored blue jeans. She cradled a light beer in her tiny hands, and several empty bottles lined the counter in front of her.

He took another long drag from his cigarette as he studied her. She huddled over herself, making herself as small as possible, like a frightened animal backed into a corner. Her eyes saw nothing around her, but stared blankly at the bottles in front of her as if searching for something in their amber curves. He lifted the cigarette to his lips again, closing his eyes with pleasure, as the slow tawny drawl of a country love song filled the air.

His eyes shot open, and he watched as she reacted. She flinched as though someone had struck her when she recognised the song. As the chorus to the song began, a single tear trailed down her cheek, shimmering in the neon light like a precious stone. A slow, arrogant smile spread across his lips as her watched her break down. By the end of the song, her face was splotchy and red, and thick fat tears fell unimpeded from her eyes to splash on the counter of the bar. She was hurt. She was vulnerable. She desperately needed someone to comfort her.

She would make easy prey.

He took another drag from his cigarette, the red ember flaring as excitement filled him. It would be so easy to walk out of this neon lit hell hole with her. Drunken cowboys and their whores would hardly notice another couple leaving. No one would remember she'd been here, and he doubted anyone knew she had come. Her clothing and appearance marked her as better than those around her, and he imagined she had come to mourn without the prying eyes of her peers.

He took a final draw from his cigarette, rolling the smoke through his mouth, savouring the flavour of it. She would pay for coming here. She would pay with her pain and he would revel in every second it.

He pushed himself up from the table, shrugged into his denim jacked and smiled his flawless "good ol' boy smile". Never taking his eyes off of her, he picked up his white cowboy hat with one hand, as with the other, he slowly crushed the life out of the butt of his cigarette.

Communion with the Worms

Take.
Eat.

This is my body.
This is my blood.

Shed for you
Though there are
No sins
To forgive

I am your Cadaver Messiah

Who died
That you might live

That you may be fruitful and multiply
And spread my Soul
On gossamer wings
To the ends of the Earth

Know that I will sustain
Your children
And your children's children
Until they have eaten away the
Death
And I am nothing

I will be all-knowing and
All-seeing
Through the visions of a million
Tiny black eyes

I will become
God

I will be
One
With the Universe