The Moon gives a blood soaked apology to the stars.

Her moist moments encased in porcelain and crystal gun cabinets, they shine like trophies.

Her fantasies kept in an old wooden drawer.

Windows open, a fan humming. A man lies asleep, face down,
sprawled out; his hair is tousled, his pajama top open and
twisted, the sheet thrown back.

She was biting her name, an pulling out her hair, she was saying something about her moister.

EYE(V.O.)
Sometimes I wonder where her horizons lie...

Covered in cobwebs. There is grime under this footnote.

Footnote: Is she really that helpless?

"Secret desires"
Sticking his white bleached skull into the smoggy air looking up.

Vinegar leeches the black sky to the stray gray moon.

EYE listens to SHE, who reads in fragments, Eye is smoking a cigarette in his black t-shirt and Spanish leather boots.

An Italian organ-grinder plays, while a number of ragamuffins of the neighborhood dance.

She's wearing tight fitting clothes though fading off and on as if in a dream.
The Moon grins a red face through the slits of her window blinds.

An echo comes out of She's womb, the false modesty's bastard sons were born free, then they multiplied.

SHE
‘do it again, do it again.’

Eye lights another cigarette and smoke fills the room titled 'SECRET DESIRES'.

Eye drags down a lungful of smoke bobbing his head with nicotine till his eyes string tears in mock sadness that wears off with the salty semen air.

EYE(V.O)
But nothing makes much sense anyway...

Cut to:

His feet ramble to the offbeat, car honks.

EYE
Not this room, not this bed, not this woman!

Eye rises as steam, damp and cloying, and he stumbles to the door.

Eye break open the door then flees the apartment.

Eye stops and waits for it to say walk.

Cool winds sent from the northern spheres, dries Eyes sweat leaving saline marks on his black T-shirt.

A close-up of Mary watching dancing ragamuffins in street below, a wistful 
little expression on her face.

There is a SOUND: of a caterwauling cat.

The woman turns over. CAMERA HOLDS on sleeping couple.

A marbled section of tram lines in front of him.

New York metro trains flowing like whiskey.

Walking slow paced to the vagrants grumble.

Eye stops at a television set.

Overhearing sounds of Tom Verlaine, Guitar chords weep songs of jade that confuse his memory.

Eye glanced inside the shop, window shopping.

EYE
Was it seventy seven? What came first the chicken or the big Mac?

The vagrant looked up at eye.

vagrant
I'm soiled with butter and crumbs. I've had all I can stand, I can't take anymore...

As Eye passes a large flee market, a rage of horns play a feudal symphony, it bit MOON DOG in the ass, Mood dog drops his Trimba.

Eye's Doc Martens lick the sidewalk leaving soon forgotten sole prints on the rain slick concrete.
Traffic whispers pass with a sigh. Red light halting him.

As Eye walk by the sight of Moon dog, Eye tastes the vile of petrol perfume in his mouth, he looks disgusted.

Water is flowing from a spigot on a street-washing machine
that is proceeding slowly down a street in the East Sixties.
First faint morning light, a freckled specimen with

dangerous eyes, asks:  "What's his trade-mark?"

The woman's finger nail became dull, he spotted the black board that read the words: It is by will alone I set my mind in motion to forms and patterns, The starting point for all aspects of desert ...Initially.

A stark nail across the city blackboard, leaving the hairs on Eyes neck to erect like horny bed lice, jumping and fucking his neck with their tiny organs.

I never loved her.

I just used her lusts for my own ends.

She never loved me.

I just supplied her with the where withal to make the days pass with less sunlight and pain.

Our moments together were just fragments.

The buildings turn phallic, penises rise as insects rotate like helicopter's in the air stream making CHOCCHOCCHOC sounds.

Murky liquid up to the knees of Eye, and litter that drowns him.

We hear somewhere distant a siren, as SHE scratches, Aiming.

CLOSE SHOT:A prisoners eye.

Walking by the soiled integrity in the graveyard of lost liberty.

eye(V.o)
On the flickering screen, Multiplication of fractions and equal signs in the middle of the screen, then a credit card number, odd types of salad dressing, and then two nuns walking.

Narrator
"Cash friendly, cunt come, cocaine driven dumb. Her syringes decorated her window ledge, her needles tattooed her arm and crutch."

Eye lounged back in a greasy theater seat, glancing at the wad of some odd looking chunky substance.

Eye pokes it with a stick, and moves away.
Backaches, holding a bottle of whiskey, is drunk. Garza watches
him carefully.

Both men are in shadows.

As Backaches talks, he sits down on edge of pier and looks out over water. He
turns so that we see his face.

We don't see Garza's face in entire scene.

Her rear attaching a new punching bag to holder. The freckled specimen is seated
in the rowing-machine strenuously working at the oars, and the broken-nosed gent with the tin ear
is skipping the rope.   The door leading to the timorously appears.

EYE

She blew me when she could find the way...

dissolve to:
Eyes hand flies up to ward off the stinging horny insects that bite my chest, my lungs, my legs, my face.

A puddle of blood greets him with a sepulchral silence as the sidewalk cracks a welcome to the bones of the already dead.

Eye spots the woman look his way and point.

Eyes other hand leaves him to fend off the approaching floor.

She's idiot son lays fetal curled in a bed of vomit.

Empty bottles flung, they spun blindly past the son, Her morbid sentinel carelessness strewn from the mother.

She flailed her arms and threw a tantrum about a figure out back.

Cut to:
Flotsam floating behind the dead frigate out back.

A dead cod eyed boy cut up, razor blade blue lying down with arms folded.

The ridges of blood are blotted with a lily white throat, split open by the dead dogs yawn.

CLOSE-UP: The dogs feet face the wrong way, his jaw opened, fur slacking, dribbled saliva into minor pools around his chin.

Sordid sheets with darkened stains, dried corruptions of body attachments on the silky pillow case.

EYE
I remember the days in the old schoolyard when Iris Eisner first kissed me. It was behind the bike sheds. Her mouth an open invitation. We locked onto each other. All tongues twisting red snake like down the backs of our throats. We were only children driven by desire.

Eye basks in the moon light, before entering the steaming haze of industrial side of the city.

He crosses a bit wearily to a corner soda fountain that opens onto the street. He leans on
counter, blocks off another street on his sectional map.

The proprietress moves over, a middle-aged woman, stout, work worn,wearing glasses.

Eye lights another cigarette.

The nicotine taste like burning cords.

The memory of the lovable oldman and his kindness brings a little smile to her eyes, but the thought of Reagan banishes it and, her hand to her mouth and her head nodded pathetically a little to one side, a look of fear appears in them.

Eye's larynx suffers as the smoke rakes its way down his neck, his lip aches with leftover black lipstick.

Eye wipes his hands down the front of his pants and see the streaks of blood that have gathered there.

Seated on parapet of "Chairoplane" at deserted fair ground,
the big wheel behind him.

He gets up and starts to walk
round the "Chairwoman" stand.

A man calls out but his voice is dragged across the channeled streets with an echoing boom that roars as thunder Sirens gather in packs.

Another car whistles past eye its horn flaring an angry note as he stumbles from sidewalk to kerbside.

A drunken sailor walking by a rabid stalker. The siren moves closer chasing its favored whore.

Eye
A collective noun for blood should be, could be, might be a mosaic. That sounds good: a mosaic. I like that...

he woman looks at photo, speaks with an Italian accent.

It is still and nobody near it. They shake hands.
He mentally pat himself on the back and smiles with tarnished grit, but growled downward at his cigarette smoke with industrial conviction.

A man appears out of the haze.

Wolfs with fangs bared. who makes an instant hit with him.
Rigid iron teeth that snarl and froth.

Rabid wolfs that hunger devours as photo flashes burn the pupils.

Trent Reznor
I am Trent Reznor. I am steel and glass and pumping boiler rooms full of pistons pounding a perfunctory beat. I rattle my rhythms in metallic staccatos. Brazen as brass. Bold as sunlight.

EYE
There are several million people here in New York City. Each one as different from me as I am from them. A symbiotic collective that feels good in groups but is really a broken contagion. One that is spreading to far and too fast. One of these days nature will cull us all and we will bleed as we fall from grace. As\we all fall from the elevated skyscraper we built for ourselves. I cannot abide these thoughts that shake into my head without a by or leave. Stray thoughts, rogue and uncalled for. I hate them but cannot stop thinking them. They haunt my days and only her warm saliva can compensate for the bile that burns my brain.
...But the midnight of my day crowds in...

His jaw locked, a lamp light hunched over him, jaw now loose unfettered.

He grains across the concrete with sand paper rubbing intensity.

He takes up battered violin case and fondles it like a cherished baby. He goes to chair by open window, where he takes the beloved instrument from the case and holds it to his breast as he seems to look back through the mist of the years.

She is no longer warm, her bundled naked flesh on cold tiled floors.

Bits of her body thrown about like pieces of meat in the room.

MONTAGE: A finger here, an eyebrow there. Her feet in the fridge.

The window shades are drawn. The room is illuminated by electricity

EYE
..or was it her head.
I don’t know, I cannot remember.

Memory fails with the neon lite signs.

Helicopters panting in the air.

Search lights skimming the rooftops and snakelike alleyways and bone that sits there.

Everything fails in slow motion, his body falls.

he takes from his pocket a number of bills. Peeling one off, he flings it on table and says:

"Here's a dollar for the steak. I'll be back about five. See that you're here!"

but makes no sense... A dark night burns bright with neon, lights, spotlights, and flashlights.

EYE slides into the shadows, trying to find a single piece of shade to fall into, Eye fades but the spotlight glows sodium bright.

The CHOC CHOC CHOC gets heavier, the wind filled with techno beats.

The night air is filled with squawks and grunts as tires settle down on the road, making black marks in their determination to seek Eye out.

Through the structure of the big wheel from ground level -
CAMERA PANS UP slightly.

taking off his coat, enters from The girl attendant of the wheel enters He waits and listens to them, he listens in fragments, multiplication of fractions dissolve into echo's that form tight fists of the night.

Bang and bursts the noise is a climatic silence that breaks into eyes rib cage shattering the flesh

Through window, which is closed, can be seen fire-escape. tiptoe, raises window.

FOOTNOTE: future falls.

he wheel is turning - ground seen through window in opens toward camera, revealing contents consisting of tins of food, shoes, etc. The hands of a man come in from foreground to take something out.

The sky rotates. Buildings flop against each other. But suddenly the happy light disappears...

The END.