Catching my breath, covered in Summer sweat;
The motel room lit by only a flashing sign outside.
Her silhouette accented as she drags on a smoke;
Quiet now, we both lay here naked and spent.
I look into her face as she takes another drag;
She is a million miles away, anywhere but here.
The torrid lust just moments ago is long gone;
Replaced by a dirty stickiness; a lonely feeling.
Without ever looking my way, she begins to dress;
The excitement of an hour ago is not even a memory.
She slowly walks to the door, then looks back at me;
Not a word, she lights another smoke, then leaves.
I'm glad when I see that door softly close, she is gone;
The hollow shell left behind from the act of treason.
I consider a quick shower, but instead, I just get dressed;
Walking out the cheesy motel room into the muggy night.
Driving home to my house in the suburbs, my family asleep;
Not even really sorry about what I did tonight, just lifeless.
Lying down on the couch, feeling the chilling coldness
That is growing within my heart, slowly dying is beauty.
Another brick in the wall, closing me off from all morality;
Knowing that the zombie within will do this again soon.
I have become what I hate; driven by a passionless lust
To the edge of insanity; I fall off into a restless sleep.
An experiment into the darkness of the loss of morality.
Honoring the master, Steven King.
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