From up here, the world looks blurred by smoke and sin.
The VIP section looms above it all tucked behind a one-way glass. Below, bodies writhe under red strobes, chasing ecstasy and forgetting names. My gaze lingers over tangled limbs and naked skin that gleams with sweat. Pleasure is currency here and everyone down there is either selling it or buying more time to feel alive.
I lean further against the glass. Not for comfort, because there is none, but to feel something solid beneath my hands. My palms are damp, and my breath is uneven but my eyes... they don't blink.
They watch.
They can see people disappearing into darkness down there. Into rooms with no doors or into corners that eat the light. I envy how they vanish willingly, like moths diving into flame.
A woman collapses into a man's lap and throws her head back in what must be laughter though I can't hear it. The music below is too loud, too relentless it just drowns everything in bass and distortion. Another figure slides in
