di Mattia de Franceschi
Sunset now and out they come, the bastard children of fuck it all ideology. They live the night, dusk till dawn, torn between ecstasy and the need to find a place to crash, drugged up and out of their tomb. They swarm the underpass to dance between trash can firepits and the light pollution backdrop, haloing the sky above the lagoonside factories. Venice burning by night if you look at the mainland. The water here reeks of shit and chemicals, looks oily, seems about ready to burst into flames. They’ve tried a couple of times, maybe they’ll do it again tonight if nothing happens, but there’s usually a concert nearby and the mosh is always a good place to get thrashed so here they stream into the venue, occupied tin shack already chock full of noise and feedback. “Live fast/Die Fast, deontology, banner above the door, final wisdom, why not?” This one is a hardcore night so expect concrete jungle rhythms and screams of pleasure. The beer stall is up and working, but they’ve got their quarts. “Who’s gonna pick a fight with a mob of meth head vampires, black-clad and thoroughly pissed off as a ground state of being? No future as an aura, can go both ways pal, you and me, one man standing.” Thirty minutes in and they get booted out for the night, no real harm done, couple of lips split and a lot of black eyes but those you don’t see in the dark. “’sides, blood looks cool right?” Lick it up champ, it’s good for you. Trainbound now to Venice, last one in before midnight so it’s a one way trip. They’ve gotta roam the streets and knock on the right doors to get in before the spell ends, darkness fades and reality sets in, if you really want to be timeless and immortal you’ve got to keep up the trick and never see the sun. Empty city this one, if you count out the tourists and the rats and all the dead people in the water looking at the stars with their ugly rotten pearly eyes, just sneak through the sidestreets, never look down, eyes for your next angry fix. Crawl’s the word. “Besides, if we do find someone just smile and you’ll see they’ll offer us some nice cool beer somewhere dark and then we’ll suck their blood away as a payment.” Sure enough here they are, happy drunks with joy to share, wicked bad young drunks thinking they’re hot shit, the hottest shit, thinking they met their match. There’s idiot love in the air, feelings festering in high price, low quality alcohol. Doesn’t last much, never does, not when you’ve got the nihilism death squad hunting for poseur blood in full amphetaminic mind-attire. “Look at them starseeking now too, how those beautiful wide-open eyes cry in the ripples their bodies made”. Soft, there are other eyes watching now eternal younglings, you’re criminals. “Always have been”. Ah but now it’s different, now you’re drunken beasts tearing at the heart of this city, hearing liminal voices in the dirty night, waddling towards unknown salvation. They all tremble and shake now horribly, retching in the gutters where yes they do sometimes sleep, halogen rainbow creeping up in the shimmering blood and waste reflecting streetside neon lamps. Looking up to the constellations and the eternal cop in the sky they flee to the shadows. Time’s ticking, choices are numbered. Late night churches, occupied buildings, damp cellars, parks. “There’s an island out there, used to be a nuthouse, sounds good to me”. But vampires can’t cross running water, maybe this one isn’t running as much as slouching but it’s still a mile to the island, a mile to where’s a mile to the island. Pilgrimage for the twice faithless, empty shells looking at the outward void. But fixation is setting in. They’re going, creeping at the edge of the light, walking the inner borders of this town. Schizoid geography rising up from the water, the buildings are all impaled sacrifices. “Venice is an altar to the elder gods…”. They hear laughter coming with the high tide, the pneumatic hilarity of the sea. Panthalassa, mother of all life, don’t swallow your wayward children as they cross your breast. Surrounded by stars and navigation lights they claw their way towards heaven on stolen ships with kidnapped shivering captains. They’ll kill again one last time before going to sleep, a final sin before the confession of dreams. Stepping off now, sated and still crazy, exploring the forsaken wilderness of a private island. Churches and stonepaved roads and perimetral walls. No crosses and no shelter. Perfect neutrality, but doom’s coming on pink radiant fingers gripping the outline of buildings, smiling with the bloodlust of ancient Aztec sungods. “Tear everything apart, we need coffins and mausoleums and urns for our unborn infants”. They raid the concrete darkness of empty rooms grabbing all they can, splinters biting back in illegal self defense. They too bleed but don’t notice. A ramshackle necropolis rises to block out the sun and the doors and covers slide on their faces. “Undeath has no meaning, my feelings are numb…” whispers one of them in an open casket, still looking at sky, uncaring of the sun, getting kissed by the dawn light, hoping it would, just once, turn him into dust.