Written by:

L V HALL
 A reflective journey.
Altered by Name and Altered by nature,
Bringing the reader closer than ever to
understanding the lifestyles
Thats more gutter than glamour.
A journey back into the shadows of a past
laced with the ever-deceiving characters of
indulgence and addiction.
With each substance met along the way, a new
waltz of trickery, illusion & lies
performed behind the Veil of
The Great Hall of Highs

Powerlessness, Despair, Turmoil

& Desperation.

Addiction wears Horned Halos

.

When I first met your sister, we were sitting in some artist studio with

the local down n out. It had run down walls that wept the tears of this

broken homes tragic years that still sat piled high with rubbish in the

kitchen down the sewage seeped hallway opposite the broken toilet &

dripping tapped bathroom filled with grime.

Your sister approached me with a familiarity of someone who was no

stranger, her footing was simple & I easily learnt through her guided

movement, the way she wished to dance.

Your sister & I weren't frequent friends who regularly met for catch-up

dates, far from it...our relationship was secondary I might say.

The two of us would intertwine our lives paths & dance the great round

Hall only on occasions that my number one dance partner wouldn't show

up & I was left without only the options of waltzing withdrawal or

accept the hands of the lady in white who's dance came less graceful

than I preferred, static in movement full of body throws, inconsistent

choreography that would always strain the chest in its demand for

breath.

Dancing before mirrors, then bed sheets damp in cold sweat as I would

throw myself around as though a ribbon dancer on a tightrope without a

harness or hope.

This routine however, came as last option only if your sister also wasn't

round...she seemed to have quite the gift of temporary relieving my

needs & distracting my grieving for my partner of swing, my partner as-

well as my lover. We shared a secret romance thats affair only grew over

time until she was all I saw & all I desired each day & night. Lunch-

breaks we would sneak away together then come clock-off time I remember

running home eagerly to see her.

Each night creating perfected atmosphere around us, before writing &

listening to deep penetrative music that would hum ataraxia around and

straight through our bodies like some mantra of the flesh releasing

each tendon tied tense. Beneath the faces of each moon, thats start

point always played like an Angel to our ears because our anticipation

always led to this time.

Time passed & her influence on me became more over powering & where I

once lead our steps, she had claimed my tread, throwing me from walls of

wire to black charcoal burnt walls of steel.

This switch took place over sometime, & no matter what a beauty she was,

in my heart I knew that the job of lead was supposed to be mine.

I left, she stayed.

Not long after my return, I did bump into your sister again...in a

disabled toilet cubicle at a burlesque show. The old familiarity settled

us easily into the old swing & without me having another, we somehow

found a comfort in each other.

Everyday we would share the love of ecstatic dance, her maneuvers

smooth & consuming, almost devouring...yet, time passed & I had to let

her go you see, her possession of me turned ugly when I begun to realize

she was inhaling me behind the trickery of her mask, giving me many

restless nights as I felt my self being depleted. She wore me down to

bones & flesh.

Lifeless flesh you see,

Bones brittle, cracking.

Lifeless.
Then there was your Cousin...this lady of the night no doubt marks me in

a different kind of scar. A branding of sorts that still cannot be hidden

to the eyes & memory of the community we bounced round for some time...

I met your cousin outside a piss-ridden toilet...the only one in that

Bogan infested uptown warehouse apartment. The place always stank of

bourbon & stale cigarettes, metal music is good for gathering up the

local grimes & never getting round to clearing the old dirt before wind

milling their hair all through it.

Anyway...

Through the thick black smog of sweaty black band tee shirts I crawled,

knowing the bathrooms would be another dodge of the bourbon breathing

cesspool that linger, all waiting while grunting, snorting & slurping as

they wait in line to snort a line. Usually from the sachet of their mates

latest script.

I remember it like it was yesterday, those moments your cousin flew out

at me from behind the bathroom door, directing my hand into my card

wallet then criss-crossing her as she lay fragmented across the vanity

onto of a broken piece of mirror, we rubbed nose to nose then I tasted

lipstick lips that consumed me with ecstasy as she seeped down my

throat.

She had me.as she had intended all along.

Her multicolored lure spoke mystery, her many names were known to those

in various scenes who had known her personally even if her scent had

barely passed by the nostril hairs of the intrigued & socially in need of

her presence. Her reputation as inconsistent as the colors she wore. She

was loved & hated, but only the designers of her clothes would know the

true mystery behind her making. The acclaimed connoisseurs round town
didnt even know the threads of her fabrics when it was clung to the end

of there nostrils. & Although since that night I never found myself in

the tailors studio, her & I became very well equated & I spent many

nights being her driver round town, carrying her coats in my bag as she

raved the nights away & got caught up in ladies bathrooms chatting

endlessly with strangers as she lay on the flat ceramic surface of the

dirty cubicles.

A social diva with only a facade of glamour that really was also was

just as false as you, her so called designer coats were no more than

cheap offcuts of what the 70s got the best of. I couldnt keep up with

her inconstant faces & grew tired of the Connoisseurs who knew nothing

at all. People always telling me that they had danced better with miss

white diamonds or blue star or lady with the red apples... they were all

the same woman! They never listened to reason though; if they did then

they wouldnt be trying to grind her when she is a party woman who will

melt the dance floor if the DJ would only DROP a beat.

& Then there is you...

You came into my world through mutual circumstances. Your dress a

Pure white& remained so, since the very first day I saw you & smelt that

natural sweet scent that would carry through the wind.

We worked together for some time, we worked very well together. You

bought new possibilities to a scene that had become as dull as over

chewed gum, tasteless, bland & lacking any flavor at all.

Through the beginning I was still under your sisters demanding thumb

of addictive ritual illusion.

Quietly you kept your own modest gifts to yourself, little did I know

then that what was under my nose since you walked in to the scene, was a

blessing that would become the curse. I found out by the one who knew

you better than I...your maker.

Upon fire tips & glass flooring, we tore each other to life.

You had & elegance still untainted by the stigma of your bloodline. You

were mine, not withheld by another. So much of you. Always so much of

you- your white free flowing garment like silk, could trail on & on down

endless alters.

Pure white.

Ever flowing. Flowing & holding.

You awoke my greedy need, each breath gliding like falling stars in

galaxies of ecstasy.

You sparked matches & cast light upon my shadowed desire to dance the

walls of tarnished lungs.

You made my chest full with a tensioned tremor, but your abilities could

also tame the wild beats of ribbed cage.

You bought an old comfort in a twist backward then fall...trusting you

would catch me.

Sometimes your movement violent, grotesque & ice cold while throwing me

away then straight back even closer, closer so your stench of your

torment could be smelt through the spit of self hatred that would

pierce straight through me.

The rest of your kind was just like you; just take take take as though

they owned my very soul.

You, no longer curing any such desire, I no longer want or desire you but

your spell has me believing I need you like I need the very air of your

sinful breath.
All we are now is estranged dance partners. Playing out a routine that is

just that- a routine.

A ritual.

Our passions long since faded...without lust, hunger & thirst between us,

why do we continue to circle around each other like pack wolves. Guess

we are both as grotesque as the other, circling like vultures. Me for

your ritual & you for the handles of your puppet. Circling and circling

because simply this is all we know.

Walking backwards while hands remain connected like some contradicted

comfort in the other, as though a safety net if one should fall.

I dare you to ignite me, dare you to just try & spark me into life again.

Our romance goes just one way, from your ritual twists & my altered

sway.

I give the flame that u only claim. Your bloodlines a stain on even the

surrounding worlds to your game.

You wore my watch then claimed it as your own, twisting its chain

slowly, hovered over the blaze of my torment. You would yell endless

regrets across the dance Hall of echoes. So many echoes from a source

that swayed smiling...id throw u over & over but you were the yoyo

thats loop strapped itself to the bones of my finger, layers so deep it

would take more than a cut to untie your deceit.

Lips bitter but your touch soothing & sweet. My heart would

Palpitate the moment your presence crept through the walls of my

Flesh, you held tight the gasps of breath keeping my chest

Strained with the pressures of your high demands. Not a single

Thing was enough, you needed me fragmented & spread throughout

Different angles of the floor so I could be of no real use to you but a

pawn placed upon each & every point you may find intrigue.
Just a family of vultures, all of you in your own demeaning way thrive

through the disguise of the illusion you wear & use without a burden of

care.

Now here we are. Just you & I. you're looking like your not so confident

now to continue playing me off in your game of dancing puppets. My

apologies for the state of the dance Hall, guess the echoes drove me so

mad my care to sweep it new has faded, & with nothing more of me that

you could possibly destroy & take away, why bother to glamourize you

any further when your deceits have been well & truly exposed. So for

our final dance, you without any dress & me nude of an ear to tell of my

final debut...let us dance for the past before your intrusion, let us

dance for the great times we shared, even if they were beneath your veil

of illusion. Let us swirl n sway for the last time that we may. Just you &

me & the devil u play. Now flick your heel twice & spin.

L.V Hall 2014