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Satan After Hours
Hell is a house stiff with cigarette smoke.
Elijah/Dominic (implied)
PG-13
I claim naught and not. Title taken from a poem of the same name by David Lerner.

Elijah knows that Hell is Los Angeles in the summer when your air-conditioning’s just broken and the house is bleeding the cold from its seams. Hell is a house stiff with cigarette smoke when opening the windows would drown you in bitterly hot smog. Hell is the bedroom with Dominic’s unclaimed clothes on the floor, the death rattle of bone white plastic hangers in the closet.

Elijah knows that Satan is the crowd that presses you into the crush of bodies at the club. Satan is her smell on your fingers after your eyes go empty as vodka. Satan is the fingerprints the bedroom leaves on your skin, a history of beautiful girls too pretty to have secrets and boys with highways for track marks.

Elijah knows that demons are doors when you’re too stiff and scared to open anything. Demons are the last traces of hope in the bathroom mirror drowning in the circles under your eyes. Demons are in your pores when you have a hangover.

Elijah knows there are worse things than loneliness until the devil makes him forget.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Good visualization. Poor lost Lij...

i'm glad you thought so on the first part, and somewhat on the second, because i'm happy that came through. if that makes any sense whatsoever.

anyway. thanks for stopping by.

Wow.
Poor lij

yeah, he is an angst-case.

thanks for reading and stopping by.

Hi. =)

You don't know me, since I'm just a random passerby, but I just wanted to comment and say that I really liked this a lot. In fact, reading over previous posts, I really like *everything* you write. If you don't mind, I'd like to friend you, but I don't want to be a crazy stalker person, so let me know wether or not it's ok. Thankies.

randomness will save the universe. no really.

thank you for the lovely compliments on my writing; i'm very glad you like it! of course it's fine if you friend me, no worries. *friends you*

thanks for stopping by on your course of random passing. :)

i'm so totally traveling back in time, yo. i wonder what einstein would have had to say about eljay: the farther back you go on your flist, the farther back in time you are... anyway.

i like this. it's hot. not in a good way, in a bad way. but the bad way's good, if you follow me.

the death rattle of bone white plastic hangers in the closet.

that's just deliciously morbid.

after your eyes go empty as vodka

and that's morbidly delicious, ~~aren't i clever?~~ and i like the... er, would it be parallelism? how you focus on different aspects of hell with each stanza. i want to say stanza rather than paragraph, because it's like poetry, in a way. really, the only piddly concrit i have for this is: Demons are in your pores when you have a hangover. it seems a bit unexpanded, compared to the rest of the writing. but not noticeable enough to really detract.

yeah. i just really like it. that's all. :)

i wonder what einstein would have had to say about eljay

my guess: THEY SAID I DID WHAT WITH WHO? didn't i prove that's impossible?

that's just deliciously morbid.

see, i have this thing for morbid romance (which i can easily blame my franz ferdinand and bright eyes love on, natch). so that is so so awesome to hear. (look, ma, new word for "wonderful"!)

yeah. i just really like it. that's all. :)

i just really like this, too. once again: danke, and You Rock.

no, no, it's all quantum theory. there are an infinite number of ~~positions~~ possibilities. erm. yes.

wonderful went off to college, then? funny you should mention, i just bought franz ferdinand about a week ago. and of course, have been listening to (literally) nothing else since. morbid, yes. and strangely sexy.

i really just like you :P