I accepted the subtle invitation in your beautiful green eyes
And pressed an ear to your ruby red lips…

"It’s coming to get me", you whispered.
A button on your dress released itself
And the garment dropped to the floor.
The fussy eunoch had fumbled to cover your exposed shoulders
But you couldn’t reach…

"Look… it wants to kill me!"
Understated, yet petrified…
You were appealing to my better side
Although the devil in me ached for satisfaction.

I dashed to the elevator…
Pressed the arrow and waited.

On my 13th floor balcony in this hollow hotel
I spied on the lobby below.
There’s pandemonium.

Guns are trained… cops in corners.
Cops in visors… lines of shields…
And I swear I caught the eye of the beast.
Wrong.

As my would-be adversory turned from the counter, a dart flew into his forehead.
The guns rattled… the line of shields parted.
There was a distortion of spice like a ball of congealed air rolling at a massive speed…
Scattering bodies as it squeezed through the gap in the closed elevator doors.

And I turned to watch the illuminated number descend…
1… 2… 3… 4… so slow it must grow angrier by the second…
8… 9… 10…
"It’s coming to get me", you whispered…
But what the hell could I do about it?

I woke up.
I’m sorry.
And the radio at my bedside spat out the ever-worsening news:
Satan’s in the White House!

React.
Reboot to the sound of a violent fart at a pretentious dinner party.
Let it pass.
I want to wake up again.

I couldn’t save you, my lovely.
I cannot save myself.

It’s coming to get me…