Thursday, May 5, 2011

I'll Call her.. Blue





I am in love.

I know what you are thinking even if you are not saying it.

"Again?"

But seriously.. I am. Again.

Is that so bad? To love? Easily? A lot?

Probably.

But each time I rip out my heart and offer it the bitch [whoever she happens to be at the time] just walks away and leaves it there laying all broken and dirty on the ground with little bits of offal all clinging to it as if it meant nothing and means nothing because it amounts to nothing but that is just not the case because.. it amounts to everything. Certainly counts for something.

Never means nothing.

So I have to pick it up and wipe it off as best I can and shove it back in my chest and wait for someone else to inspire me with a deep personal emotion akin to love. It could be lust, or even hate. They are so close sometimes its hard to tell them apart.

Despite that, she should be thankful. [whoever she happens to be at the time]

Oh.. I forgot I was talking about love. That I am in, it.. again. And no I don't know her name. She is a slave so it doesn't really matter what her name is anyway and if she does, have one that is, its most likely something stupid like "shep", "bingo", "rover", "fido", or it could even be "lassie".

I am going to call her Blue. I like blue and she seems blue a lot when I see her. I wish I could cheer her up. I want to, but I don't know what she likes or whats bringing her so low.

But I will find out.

I follow her around the city when I find her. She goes to the public gardens, falls and even the cliffs. She people watches. Like she wants to see the world as it might be if she were someone else.

She never sees me or notices me. But that's ok. Someday I will figure out what to give her to express my love and I am sure that will cheer her up considerably.

It will work this time.

I have faith.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

watching .. you




Are you lonesome tonight,
Do you miss me tonight?
Are you sorry we drifted apart?
Does your memory stray to a brighter sunny day
When I kissed you and called you sweetheart?
Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare?
Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?
Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again?
Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?

I wonder if you're lonesome tonight
You know someone said that the worlds a stage
And each must play a part.
Fate had me playing in love with you as my sweet heart.
Act one was when we met, I loved you at first glance
You read your line so cleverly and never missed a cue
Then came act two, you seemed to change and you acted strange
And why I'll never know.
Honey, you lied when you said you loved me
And I had no cause to doubt you.
But I'd rather go on hearing your lies
Than go on living without you.
Now the stage is bare and I'm standing there
With emptiness all around
And if you wont come back to me
Then make them bring the curtain down.

-words & music by Roy Turk and Lou Handman

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

then I saw her face


now I'm a believer

Saturday, February 28, 2009

I Don't Practice Santeria .. I aint got no Crystal Ball


.. and I still know that woman is a Bitch

Sunday, August 12, 2007

last dance with Mary Jane

Daybreak
at the bottom of lake
it's a hundred degrees I can't breathe
And I won't get out
'til I figure it out
Though I'm weak like I can't believe
So you tell me 'trust me' l can trust you
Just let me show you
But I gotta work it out in a shadow of doubt
'cause I don't know if I know you

Doing fine but don't waste my time
Tell me what it is you want to say
You sin, you win, just let me in - hurry
I've been out in the rain all day
So you tell me 'trust me' I can trust you
as far as I can throw you
And I'm trying to get out of a shadow of doubt
'cause I don't know if I know you

[Chorus:]
Don't tell me you wanted me
Don't tell me you thought of me
I won't, I swear I won't
(Did)
I'll try, I swear I'll try
(Lie)

Mother Mary quite contrary
Kiss the boys and make them wary
Things are getting just a little bit scary
It's a wonder I can still breathe

Never been much of a doubting Thomas
but nothing breaks like a broken promise
You tell me 'bout your two more coming
but once is just enough for me

I had gotten used to being a soul destroyed
She comes in apparently to fill the void
All dogs need a leash and
at least I'll forget it
And she would never hurt me though
she's never said it
But I'm not gonna ask her today
I don't wanna scare her away
Your town, I'm all alone
and I just can't stare at the phone
I wanna talk about lifelong mistakes
and you can tell your stepfather I said so

- Kevin Moore

Tuesday, August 7, 2007

absolution or puff puff ... pass

Got to face your fear
lying on the floor
Step into nothing, what the hell am I here for?
So come on and play
Stab me in my heart
So long this time was wasted ripping me apart

We are the hurt inside your head
Lost in the void of what is dead
Constantly twisting things I said
Happiness is boring, need pain instead

It's starting over, starting over
Can't stand it's over, God is gonna take me out
My time is over, this time is over
Why is this over? God is gonna take me out

Crawling on the floor
All around this space
Talking to myself
What is this thing I've got to face?
Walking through a door
Has it been a waste?
Going on and on thinking I could find my place

We are the hurt inside your head
Lost in the void of what is dead
Constantly twisting things I said
Happiness is boring, need pain instead

You can't see
I'm torn away from you and everything that's
close to me
I cannot face the truth, it's nothing that
I believe
Just run away from me and thank me when you're
free from me

-Korn

forgotten ophelia

The city of Ar. Not unlike most any other city as I have before stated .. however one that has grown on me and one I have come to call my home. If ever I am to have such a thing. Her great cylinders and spires rise like battlements to the sky. Decorated with flags and tarn wire until color and glitter capture the eye away from the dirtier darker streets below.

Sometimes clouds would snag upon the higher ramparts and moisture would drift only against these pinnacles of stone. The drops would glisten and shine in the sun .. here known as Lar Torvis or the Central Fire. It was such sights that would nearly make one forget the hunger and loneliness .. the murder and chaos, in the bowls of the city. Here the forest is of stone and the beasts look like men.

A part of both .. I like to think of myself. The upper worlds and the one beneath. The monster upon the battlements. The gargoyle. The watcher. To protect and at the same time to kill. For how can one protect if one does not also kill? Is protection a passive word? I don't think so.

Great Ar. A mecca of commerce and trade. You can find anything for sale here. Lives being one of the cheapest commodities. Her great walls stand protection, her armies known across the face of Gor. Though much treason also rests within. A black spot on the otherwise glittery facade. How ... classic.

If I could remember things better a great force I would be here. But like the great hyena I am crippled and my place destined to be with the scavengers.

These were my thoughts when I made my way to one of the smaller squares .. nearly deserted for better housing elsewhere. Meaner streets one would be hard pressed to find. I think one of the higher caste has been buying up the property in some attempt for future development. Leaving the hungry to eat each other so there is less to move when they are ready to take possession. I came to rest on a fountain .. much different than the one I sat near with my red angel. This one was cracked and leaked .. over grown with ivy and weeds .. but water still ran sluggishly through the motions though when it landed in the well it did so with a much heavier sick coagulated sound.

She was staring up at me from the bottom. Her large dead pale eyes long since had lost the ability to see though fresh enough that she was resting comfortably below the surface with no internal decay to lift her. I brushed away the green moss so I could see her face more fully. She was beautiful in an old world way. Plump and pretty about the cheeks and lips. There was a blue gash over her left eye and it looked deep enough to have caused her death though it was hard to tell with the water softened flesh.

No porcelain doll this. She had met her end through some base violence. Probably needlessly and without appreciation. I shook the water from my ringed fingers but I could not tear away my gaze from her. She held the epitome of this city in her features. So much wasted life and death. How many murderers were there gathered together feeding off each other? Thousands? Millions? Drawn to large gatherings of people like beetles to a kill?

Slowly the moss began to close back over her willed by the current of the sluggish fountain. I kissed the tips of my fingers to her before I rose and left the fountain and the deserted square. For some reason I went up. Away. I needed air and I needed to think and I needed to remember to forget. How odd .. me attempting to forget. That wasn't like me at all.

Monday, August 6, 2007

the art of philosophy .. cleanliness is next to godliness ... they say

"Murder is to me no special category," replied the other. "All sins are murder, even as all life is war. I behold your race, like starving mariners on a raft, plucking crusts out of the hands of famine and feeding on each other's lives. I follow sins beyond the moment of their acting; I find in all that the last consequence is death; and to my eyes, the pretty maid who thwarts her mother with such taking graces on a question of a ball, drips no less visibly with human gore than such a murderer as yourself. Do I say that I follow sins? I follow virtues also; they differ not by the thickness of a nail, they are both scythes for the reaping angel of Death. Evil, for which I live, consists not in action but in character. The bad man is dear to me; not the bad act, whose fruits, if we could follow them far enough down the hurtling cataract of the ages, might yet be found more blessed than those of the rarest virtues. And it is not because you have killed a dealer, but because you are Markheim, that I offer to forward your escape." ...

Markheim steadily regarded his counsellor. "If I be condemned to evil acts," he said, "there is still one door of freedom open - I can cease from action. If my life be an ill thing, I can lay it down. Though I be, as you say truly, at the beck of every small temptation, I can yet, by one decisive gesture, place myself beyond the reach of all. My love of good is damned to barrenness; it may, and let it be! But I have still my hatred of evil; and from that, to your galling disappointment, you shall see that I can draw both energy and courage."

-Markheim by R.L. Stevenson



There is only to convince the one that plagues you that by virtue he can thwart you. And that by his own self sacrifice he can achieve that which he has always failed to grasp .. sanctification. The blessed gift of forgiveness for one small phrase offered on a cross during a final hour.

I do not know if these acts will gain them the white coat they so desire after years of dragging their own through the mud and offal. I do not know if their presumed instantaneous righteousness can wash their hands of the innocent blood that has coagulated there in layers. I do not know if their believed martyrdom in the end does indeed thwart me from my final destination. All I know is that here and now they are no longer a pebble in my shoe .. a thorn in my side .. or a very small loose thread that needs tying off. Their end is self induced and peaceful enough for they believe that this act must secure the stone around my neck ... surely they can hear the bubbles as the fathoms increase over my head. Let them believe such. Tomorrow I will be here and they .. shall not.

Saturday, August 4, 2007

malediction of maggot

Pretty rather all together
in my psychic underwear
buttoned down for stormy weather
when she hit me .. out of nowhere

she blew apart my mind
despite all my protection
she didn't seem to mind
my failed misdirection

so Noah pair em up my friend
it's about to get real wet
I think my worlds about to end
but I'm not sure how I feel yet

Am I happy in my masochism
or sad I'm rolled up in the ditch
I'm left with this one realism
the woman is a bitch.

©2007 -she knows who she is

here .. let me help you with that ...


... uh .. yeah .... thanks

a kiss to build a dream on

Well I'd forgotten all about being angry with my red Angel. She was sitting pretty like on a fountain edge and I jumped up beside her and perched watching her tear a shard of something from her foot. Today I wanted to be Gorean ... a man, a master and I took her face and kissed her. Briefly. Her lips were nice. Now if she'd just have kept her mouth shut I would have been left with that pleasant little kiss and she would never have said something that invalidated my identity.

She said she thought I was unlike other men and she was unlike other slaves. I told her she was a Gorean slave .. how different could she be? But I on the other hand was not Gorean so .. how could I not be different? Though I did let her know she was kissable. Which she was.

She was in denial that I was not Gorean. She thinks all people from Earth become slaves. I violently cleared up her little misunderstanding and she will wear the marks of my hand for a couple of days I am sure. I assured her that not her or anyone else would ever question my freedom. Ever. I think she understood. But I still think I broke her snow globe all to hell. Here I was ready to cruise the miracle mile with her and she up and fell off the roller coaster. They make seatbelts for that. I could eat her for all her bullshit narrow minded self righteous restrained thought processes. Fucking Angel.

The beautiful person slave was there. I am not sure why she came over. I have not figured that out yet. She has come to my feet more than once but I still do not know her. She is quiet and vibrates with some kind of internal struggle I can't tune into. She watches. A lot. Struggles. A lot. During these moments though she comes in on the frequency of the white noise and I can't tell the difference. Talk about layers.

Then my little red angel went and got all female on me. Jealous .. and for what? It was her I had kissed. I suppose slaves are as much typical women as anyone and jealousy is as much a part of them as breathing and blood and nails. I didn't take it that it meant I was different than any other man in her repertoire. But I did tease her about working in a brothel and I told her as I strode away she'd look good in pierced ears. Fucking Angel. A brothel eh? Hell I might invest a dime .. or two.

Thursday, August 2, 2007

masquerade

let's rummage through our dreams
let's trip the light fantastic
let's trade each other's screams
all love should be eclectic

so

darling sister
sister mine
I've seen this play
I've read your rhyme

but all in all
I think you're grand
and all in all
I'd take a stand

to worry worry
super scurry
call the troupes
I'm in a hurry

to be exactly
what you need
to fill the spot
to plant the seed

cry little sister
I want your tears
though not for me
they calm my fears

so five or six
or even .. seven
I'll be them all
from hell to heaven.

©2007 for her

a cold one between friends

a dolly for my own
to have and to hold
never to roam
never grow cold

her heart in my hand
her love just for me
she must understand
she will never be free

no chatter or prattle
her company sublime
no whining or rattle
she's left to my rhyme

and she's my reason
to dance and to play
from season to season
in our own special way

she's a doll
she's my baby
never to pall
not even a maybe

and here she will rest
there's nobody better
I think she's the best
for ever and ever

©2007 all mine


When I entered my chambers I stopped as if I had run into an invisible wall. Rather lucid so I wondered if I had actually lost my mind. I never question my sanity unless I am actually somewhat in the here and now .. I wonder what exactly that means .. I don't question my sanity often. But in this case I had a real reason.

Here was the beautiful person Athame propped like a doll on a chair near one of the shrouded windows. Just enough indirect light to enhance her pale features and barely exposed flesh. Perfect in every way. A doll? Was it a real person? How did she come to be here? Then it hit me .. the Scarab. He had found her. He had made her a doll. I glanced behind me down the hallway as if he could still be there to watch my reaction.

A seventh sense though bid me to pause and after I caught my breath I stepped further in. There was something not right. Was it indeed a doll and not real at all? But as I neared the lifeless thing I realized it was indeed what was left of a human being. This was no china baby. A corpse. Her porcelain perfection was not quite flawless. She had lived. She had breathed.

I crouched before her and with ringed fingers flicked the black lace curtain further away from her. But it was not the woman I knew as Athame at all. No. And I couldn't tell you how exactly I knew it was not her .. other than I did. It is not as if I have a prime blue print of the woman to compare. I have barely seen more than glimpses of her features and certainly nothing of what rests beneath the heavy robes. But as close a twin I could not have made let alone found. The resemblance was striking. Down to the black ocular holes ... so like her eyes had been that night. Had he done that on purpose? Had he seen her as I had?

I revealed her completely by pulling away the ebon lace, and what perfection she was. He knew how I liked it and had prepared her to details I can only guess he must have crawled though my synapses to get. I was nearly breathless with the wonder of her.

I know I should have been unnerved by it all. That he had left her here, within my chambers. That he knew so much. That she was a dead ringer .. no pun intended ... for the woman I had been trying to keep out of his way for some time. But instead I felt only relief. Relief because this was how he chose to play the game. That he had respected me on a level only I could appreciate. That this was a gift.

Our friendship was to remain intact. But what does one get a Scarab who has everything?


Wednesday, August 1, 2007

all the world is sad and lonely everywhere I roam

oh say can you see?
by the dawn's early light
what so proudly I hailed
at the twilight's last gleaming
oh they say she has gone
somewhere over the rainbow
where the blue birds fly
I heard of her once
in a lullaby
so
there's a someone
I'm longing to see
hope that she'll turn out to be
someone to watch over me
but a candy colored clown
they call the sandman
tiptoes to my room every night
and just a sprinkle of stardust
and a whisper...
"go to sleep
everything is all right"

but I saw her today
I saw her face
it was a face I love
and I knew I had to run away
get down on my knees and pray
that they'd go away
but still they begin
those needles and pins
and I've felt this way
since yesterday
and today
I keep hurtin'
still hurtin
because I caught a falling star
and put it in my pocket
to save it for a rainy day
and I hoped it'd never go away
cuz
I'm a little lamb
whose lost in the wood
I know I could
I could
try to be good
to one who'll
watch over me
so won't you stay
just a little bit longer
please please please
tell me you're gonna
or
I'll never smile again
until I smile at you
I'll never laugh again
what good would it do?
for tears would fill my eyes
I'll never love again
I'm so in love with you
I'll never thrill again
with somebody new
within my heart
I know I will never stop
to smile again
until I smile at you.
cuz the moon stood still
on blue ... berry hill
though we're apart
I think of you still
you were my thrill
on blue ... berry hill.

and a little for later

I've really got some issues, I mean, I'm paranoid but.. I have a reason to be paranoid because I didn't want it to happen but it has and now I'm not really sure what to do with it and I wish I had a place to go and just stay until I figure it all out but I ain't got that kind of luxury cuz I'm just nothing but a street rat with a few scars and a missing ear because some bitch chewed it off not that I mind overly much it really wasn't all that bad at the time but now I kind of miss it and I'm wondering if it wasn't such a good idea to let her sit and chew so long considering I can't exactly put it back on though I think she put it in a pocket somewhere when she was through and I might I suppose be able to get it but really do I want it now with all her slobber and teeth marks?

She wasn't wearing any veils. Athame .. not the bitch. And I think she's been with the Scarab but I can't tell for sure because she didn't smell like him or taste like him and I think I swallowed her whole but I made sure she was alive before I left to find the Scarab because I have a few questions for him and I don't think it's all fine that he is invading my personal space even if it isn't really mine but someone else she's still my personal space as I see it and I'm not happy he is all focused now because I'm just not done.

I mean I'm not apposed to the lust or anything because it's a roller coaster ride from hell and I kind of liked channeling his entire desire wrapped up in one little neat empathic moment but I knew it wasn't mine and there's a certain part of me that likes to keep that part of me private which I figure is a big surprise to some but come on I mean was he feeling everything I felt and did he get as much out of it as I did and I did get a lot out of it but not near enough and if I could just figure out how to keep her alive longer I mean awake longer I think the experience would be even more sublime well and if I could experience it for myself and without the added weight of someone else's shroud of lust making me feel all used and slightly embarrassed after the entire thing which in turn set me off to find him and leave her alone wrapped up in a white shroud .. yes wrapped up in white linen as cold as the clay wait was she cold? I can't remember.

But I'm pretty sure I saved some for later.

I really have some issues.

Monday, July 30, 2007

star gazing

Why is it that when you reach for the stars that is when Fate decides to remind you that the ladder you are standing on was the one you forgot to remind yourself to mend last week and the whole thing comes out from under you. You are left flat on your back with the wind knocked out of you and Fate reaches out and takes that star like a five cent gumball and walks away chewing and whistling.

I am not sure if the lesson there is that stars are gumballs or that Fate can chew and whistle at the same time.

In any case .....

I learned not to reach for the stars a long time ago.

-mine .. borrowed with permission from .. me

medely of redemption

"what can wash away my sin
nothing but the blood
what can make me whole again
nothing but the blood

how precious is the flow
that makes me white as snow
no other fount I know

nothing but the blood

are you washed
in the blood
in the soul cleansing blood
are your garments spotless
are they white as snow
are you washed
in the blood

would you be whiter
much whiter than snow
there's power in the blood
power in the blood
sin's stains are lost in its life giving flow
oh there is wonderful power in the blood"

Sunday, July 29, 2007

EM pulse

The belt securely in place I wandered. I don't remember if it was the springs or the falls that I ended up at. I was still sick. I shivered and felt my stomach cave every time I tried to move too quickly. My head swam with the buzzing of the white noise. Lord of the flies I was not, they were not listening to me at all but I was certainly getting their message.

My eye was bothering me. Leaking .. I kept trying to swipe it away. The pressure behind it was intense and I wondered if the ball would escape the socket and fall into my hand. Would it be attached still by tendons and sinew like a spider's catch? Or would it be free. Free to fall and roll against my fingers. The thought amused me. I think the beautiful people slave was there. I think my little red angel was there. I think I spoke to her about self righteousness. Or was it the woman? At first I didn't remember her. I knew I should but I didn't. I kept waiting for her to say something, do something that would trigger my memory. Then she touched the air just in front of my face and I knew instantly. Like tiny webbed fissures the frore rivulets spread over the fever of my brain and I knew her. Athame. The woman that could spark the feeling. She had so much to give away and I had so much room to take. She was asking me of frigid. I was mad at frigid. I remember that. I was mad at her for thinking her right trumped my correct. Silly ass female. I don't bend my knee to right, I am not so narrow minded to think that right rules the universe. I'm bigger and stronger than right. At least when I am correct.

I asked for Athame's hand. She wouldn't give it to me. I don't blame her. Perhaps she thinks I will take her all and give nothing back. Perhaps I would. I have plenty of nothing to spare. But she did what I needed for the moment. She gave me a tiny gelid star to follow. A bit of icy pain to quiet the suckling seraphim. Their voracious appetite eased off for a few blessed moments.

The beautiful people slave has nearly as much agony to offer me. How interesting that is. Perhaps it explains what she is doing so far from where she belongs. I have yet to decide whether or not I will feed from it. Whether or not it will set on my stomach well.

I wasn't very good company. The sickness so strong in me. I left. I remember now how to use the pain. I remember now the velvet petals of slicing agony that let the pressure. I will nestle in their perfect embrace until the cephalic chorus fades and I can return to some semblance of atypical existence.

oubliette

I'm locked in an oubliette of wasted time and unmetered rhyme. My fingers all torn and bloody from trying to get through to the other side. The other side where all my memories and all my thoughts are without me. My nails long since sacrificed to this unforgiving granite wall. I keep chewing on them to ease the pain.

Give in

The pain is so great today. I can hear nothing but the song of the sweet suckling seraphim. Like honey I'm attracting black flies and I can't hear anything but the constant buzzing as they swarm around me. Deafening in their silence. Leaching every bit of desire I have left. My skin is stretching tight over my bones as I feel the drawing down of fleshy bits in between. Hungry bitches. I can feel someone tapping my shoulder to remind me not to give in but she is getting drowned out by the angel chorus. All I have is pain left over and none of it good. Today I would be typical.

Can you feel that? Give in


I want to remember to want to remember. I don't want to slip into indifference. I am teetering on the brink of nothing and nothing is not the lack of something .. .it is everything and it wants to eat me alive and that scares the shit out of me.

Give in

I remember there is someone who can help me. Who can spark the combustion. But every time I try to remember who she is all I see is her eyes. When I try to focus too closely on them, they are beautiful by the way ... they fade and dissolve and she is gone again.

Give in

I wonder what she wants from me. I don't seem to have whatever it is. Ah .. I almost remembered her there for a moment, but she escapes me.

Give in

The sickness is spreading. He is closer and he takes over everything remaking it into his image. His image is pleasing but it is only skin deep. Why can't they all see that? Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to be him. Perhaps they wouldn't think of me as such a freak. I could pretend to be normal.

Give in

I pull the mirror out from under my couch to see if it is still me looking back or if it is him. What unholy alliance have I made? What have I done? All in the attempt to be less alone. But I never bargained for this. Today I have his smile. I practice it in the mirror to see if it looks good on me.

Give in

I want to leave but every time the door appears and I try to get through it I end up right back here where I started. Over and over again. There is no leaving this sepulcher. I am trapped here. Is there someone on the outside that has the other half of me? Am I someone's scapegoat? Am I all the bad so they can be a good. I saw a good once. I wanted to touch her but she was too high.

Give in

I tripped over the belt this time on my way to the door. Ah .. I remember the belt. I wonder if it will help. Is it my key out of this tomb?

Give in

Thursday, July 26, 2007

missed

does she know?
simply stated
I don't think so

X

Just when I thought everything would be ok
Just when I started to believe that everything was going my way
Out came the cloud from under my feet
Crashing back down to reality

You used to call me pumpkin now I'm Halloween
Remember when I used to your jellybean
You used to call me schnookums and shit like that
Now you're after me with a baseball bat

I remember when I used to be the king
Your honey sweet darling baby everything
I used to be your tall dark mystery man
Now I'm just straight up history man

It used to be sugar then it turned into salt
I used to rock your world now I'm standing on a fault line

Lying naked in a hail storm in the dark
You're my little tornado and I am your trailer park
You used to call me names too cute to repeat
Like honey bunch hairy bear and piccolo peet
Goochy goochy goo goo gaga shit like that
Now you're after me screaming you dirty rat

I don't remember applying for a name change
So why is it you're calling me mister deranged
Psychopathic pornographic stinking drunk
Failing fast lying ass worthless punk

You used to call me sweety pie and baby doll
I guess another studs kicking in my stall
You'll probably call him superman or loverboy
You'll probably disregard him like a broken toy

Just when he thought everything was going his way
Just started to believe everything was hunky dory
He'll look at that cloud that he's standing on
And with an itsy bitsy tiny little almost inaudible squeak

He'll notice

It's gone

-smash mouth

overstimulated

I was playing gargoyle again. Hidden by the shadowed bastion. I like it up here. No one bothers to invade my spect ... introspect .. retrospect .. whatever spect I'm into at the time.

Last couple of days were a blur for me. Having trouble remembering again. I remember the fight in the alley. Not always clear on why I got into it. Easy to remember it happened though because I still can't see out of my eye right. It will heal though. Always does. So will my hands. My hands make me smile. I do remember that part .. when I look at my hands.

Anxiety is high. There's something I want and I'm not sure I'll be able to have it. I wonder what that means. The white noise is almost audibly understandable. If I had a bag of weed I'd be alright. But I've learned to weather it out .. mostly.

The white noise made it so I didn't recognize who was below until it was nearly too late. They were leaving. Heidi .. my red Angel. Heidi was in white. I remember that amused me. There was a slave with them. She looked like one of the Beautiful People. That was odd to me. Slaves like that don't hang around down here. For very good reasons. She wasn't dressed like a Beautiful People slave. She is a curiosity to me.

I dropped down the wall though so I could talk to my Angel. I snuck up behind her and grabbed her. She was pretty alright with it. She tried to convince me she didn't like the man I had seen her with. Didn't fly with me. Gorean girls need to figure out that on earth women lie all the time. I told her she was lying. She blushed. I knew then I was right, even if I didn't know when I accused her of it. That's why the cops do it .. it works. That didn't bug me though. She's a slave right? She's supposed to like it.

But when the other Beautiful People slave came over and started to talk I realized I'd made her drop her mistress' pouch of coins and someone had taken it. You can't leave money laying around down here. Actually you can't leave much of anything laying around down here, including yourself. But anyway I felt bad. I made her lose it. I am the one who owed the woman. Who would expect a slave to owe anything. They don't own anything how can they be responsible for anything?

These people confuse me. I dug around in my pockets, along with some lint, lock picks, string, ect I found a bit of money .. and gave her the coins and a bit extra to find a pouch to put them in. Probably won't be as good as the one that got stolen but, it was all I could do. It was everything I had. I pay my debts. Well at least the ones I figure I owe, especially those that involve someone I like. Why would I want her to get beat for me? Is it honorable to blame a slave for something you did like a two bit ballless rat? Hell that's like blaming a kid.

And what does she do? Questions me. Tells me it is wrong. Who is she? The master/slave police? Fuck her and her righteous indignation. I thought she was different than the other self-important slaves around here. And it wasn't just her. The other slave was the same way. I saw it in both their faces. Since when do slaves question men? Who were either one of them to question my honor in paying my own debts to another free person? I wasn't giving money to a slave. What the hell? I despise them both for questioning me. In their own uptight predictable narrow minded idea of their world they broke all their own rules.

How ... Gorean.

I got all paranoid and claustrophobic. As usual I went .. up. Locked in my room in the dark. I got the shakes now. Sweating like a pig. I'm fighting to remember. I need to remember. I wish I could remember what it was I wanted to remember. But I'm too sick to think.

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

blue

I've never once in my life met someone like you
I don't know what the word blue means
As long as I'm with you
You fill me so completely through everything you do
Blue is not a word at all
As long as I'm with you



Jo-El Sonnier/Judy Ball

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

on the other side

My face hurt. One eye so swollen that I could barely see out of it. What was left beneath the aegis of bloated lid was tinged bloody and the ichor tainted tears that would ooze over the lash I kept smudging over my cheek in a weird dysfunctional courage scar. I've seen the plains people. They have multicolored scars on their cheeks. Like baboon butts.

Anyway. I wasn't the only one that got a taste of violence because if you think I just sat around and let them beat the shit out of me you're double dog dare wrong. They won't corner another spider any time soon. But this spider went to his corner to lick his wounds, or I should say .. his rings.

The stench of the springs was rich with people. I scaled the usual rock so I could perch and peruse. Heidi was there in her "look at me" red dress. A spinning satellite off that was frigid. I was pleased to see her. It had been days since I last had the pleasure of the angel's company. The duality of her nature just made her twice as good.

I was just dragging a bit of tissue from my ring when she approached. I gestured her to come up beside me. Sometimes when I am around frigid I want to be human so bad I can taste it. I want to even be Gorean .. god forbid. But the sensation and urge is new to me so I like it and thus wish to prolong it despite the masochistic tendency or because of it.

She had been beaten or whipped. She wore the marks and I could smell them on her. The surface marred and excited to bring the blood and fluid to damaged cells. But it was different on her. It made me angry. Or I think it should have made me angry. I am not sure which. It is hard for me to tell. But I wanted it to stop. That I found nearly as interesting as wanting to be Gorean. Masochism at it's finest.

She wanted to touch my face but was afraid to. I didn't mind and I took her fingers and pressed her cool skin to my own feverish flesh. It felt good to me. I put her hand on my knee so I could examine it. She smelled like stringent laundry detergent. I liked that. She was clean. I liked that also.

I touched one of her welts and I asked her what it felt like on the inside when she was beaten. Not on the outside. She told me, but I didn't exactly understand her. I think I upset her by asking but I actually did wish to know. Oddly enough it sounded to me like she hurt on the inside when she was beaten because of her own failure to be good enough. But why would she worry about whether or not she was good enough for a woman she did not even like? That's where I lost her. It just doesn't make sense to me how a spiteful woman who would beat a slave out of jealousy could command such respect and loyalty as to make the girl suffer simply by calling her a failure. I understand the hurt on the outside. I understand the physical pain suffered. But what I am struggling with is ... I think I must meet this Eliza person who has such a profound effect on my angel.

Tonight she said something that hurt me. I don't remember what it was. I just remember being suddenly very angry. Either I have some residue left from Mary Jane or perhaps my wish to be human for the angel is manifesting itself. I wish I could remember why I felt.

Tonight I am frustrated. I rage against the bars of my own inabilities to understand and connect. Tonight I prowl the fence like the Wall Road. Scratching, howling .. hungry. Around and around trying to find a weak link so I can get through.

redirection .. right through my face

She surprised me with her answer. She said she was there looking for me. Instead of being insulted that she was looking for me in the refuse of Ar I accepted that as logical and got all wrapped up in trying to understand why she was looking for me in the first place. Fifteen and a half things formed on my tongue to say, but it was the seventeenth impulse that took root after eating the poor weakened sixteenth child of my assumptions and I finally got all of it boiled down into one profound universe-encompassing question ... "Me?"

She brushed over the most important thing in the universe like it was any other mortal question. "Yes I was looking for you, you told me to find you."

oh .. right

I used stomach and thigh muscles to pull myself back up and I grasped the bars while I worked my boots loose .. hanging for a moment before I let go to drop to the ground beside her. At this point since she was not jumping on the universal question bandwagon for me I decided to ask it a little differently. "Why did you want to find me?"

"I wanted to see if you had eaten today."

huh

I was distracted by the candy store of cuts on her fingers and thumb. So distracted that it took me a moment to realize that the two guys intent on collections were once again hot on my trail. Couple of trained sleens. So distracted I told her I would eat something with her. What a crock of shit that was .. where exactly was I going to sit and eat with a high caste woman like her? Had she packed a picnic lunch in those robes of concealment? Were we going to spread a little checkered tablecloth on the offal of Ar and drink tea from rose printed cups? But at the moment it seemed logical to get her away from the immediate area. Only it became even more obvious that there was no way she was going to be able to keep up with me. I started looking up .. up to my escape routes. But I couldn't leave her. That left only one thing to do. I told her to keep going and not look back until she was back where she belonged. And then I turned around to head back the very way I had come to meet what I had been so good at avoiding before. This was going to hurt. It was going to hurt a lot.

Women.

sweet nothings

The natural progression of my trajectory took me towards the carnarium of Ar and I gathered to jump grabbing a handhold in the stone masonry. Using boots to scramble my way upwards I grabbed window bars and swung around the corner letting go to fall with a thud of my boots and I tucked a shoulder and rolled to shed off most of the energy before I kept running. I slid around another corner like a young Tom Cruise ... only there was no music and I wasn't in my socks and underwear .... and I guess it wasn't like that at all really.

Suddenly it felt like I was running through molasses. Not on the outside but on the inside and I almost tripped over my own sensations. Now the sequence was slow enough that I kept going and only then realized I had reached the carnarium .. and a dead end of keepers who would frown upon my cavorting among the flies. Not to mention they might hand me over just for entertainment. You can only look at so many chamber pots before you need some stimulation. So I changed direction with a grab to a lamppost that nearly jerked my arm out of the socket. Another alley became my intent.

Blue eyes searching frantically and I saw more window bars strait ahead. The geometrical lines drawn and calculated instantly and I gathered myself like a coil to spring which landed palm and boot on the opposite wall. Shoving off with wrist, knee and ankle and turning to catch the rusted iron as I scaled upward using all my strength to reach for the decorative railing of the balcony above the window. Once my purchase was obtained I hung there tilting my head backwards so I could figure out just why I was sure I wasn't supposed to go any further.

Even upside down she was unmistakable. Even if her presence had not been wrapped around my ankles and digging nail marks on the inside of my skull I would have recognized her. I canted my head for there was absolutely no reason I could put together that she would be here .. now ... here ... did she know where she was?

Partially in the shadows of the alley now I watched her excuse herself and walk my way. Was she insane? Had she lost her little female mind? This was one of the worst parts of town .. and Ar had quite a few parts so it follows the worst ones were really bad. That gnat like attention span flitted away from those that pursued me and danced around those amazing eyelashes of hers.

She paused at the window just below me and tried to peer within. Was she so curious? I found that rather attractive. The plump parts of her slender fingers tapped a rhythm on the glass and I heard her whisper. Little succubus. I secured my boots into the ironwork and extended downwards until I hung upside down just above her. A copper bit fell from my pocket and I caught it just in time with a fleshy metallic sound before it touched her. I rolled it through my fingers unwilling yet to betray myself for she was so ... feminine in that moment. But the sound of it against my rings must have caught her attention for she turned upwards and our eyes met. The lamp light off the copper flashed in her eyes once before I stilled the coin and asked her if she were attempting to materialize her lover in the dust on the window pane.

hi ho hi ho .. lalalalalala

Unlike my previous captive audience he was not so willing to be my sounding board. Hands on techniques however can be very persuasive. I am not bragging but when I set my mind to something I rarely have trouble getting it accomplished. Unfortunately I don't always stay focused enough to set my mind to anything. I could rule the world if I just had more of an attention span.

Now, where was I ... ah yes the peasant. He smelled like the fields. Like sweat. Like onions and sulls. He was so close to the soil maggots writhed in his shadow waiting for him to sink just a little lower. I packaged him nicely. No maggots for him. It would be too poetic, too predictable. Besides the butcher did me a good turn last week and I owe him one. Isn't feeding the hungry one of those things one has to do for sainthood?

They frown on carrying weapons in the city proper. One of those control things. Does not stop anyone but the law abiding. The unlawful never paid attention to the laws anyway except to find more interesting ways to avoid getting caught. We are such creative little bastards.

It was a couple of nights later and I was actually not carrying any weapons. Lax of me. I suppose my recent high might have had something to do with my carelessness. All full of myself. I was on my way to the local "landfill" to dispose of a few extra bits when I ran into a couple of guys I would rather have avoided. They were intent on collecting some things from me I didn't have any more and they were more than willing to substitute my flesh pound for pound. I stashed my collection and then I did the only thing I felt appropriate at the time. I ran.

Saturday, July 21, 2007

spider bite shots

She wasn't what I was looking for. She didn't even resemble what I wanted. She couldn't give me what I needed. But unlike the Scarab I can do generic brands.

The cool sweet clarity that slipped through my veins after the roller coaster ride was enough to freeze my paranoia for a few hours. Like a crystal winter wonderland of experience I explored the finer points of life. Running the gambit of emotions I stepped from one to the other like a carnival of mirrors. I studied myself in each one and I was fascinated. What beautiful skins my Mary Jane gave me in this Dance Macabre. How normal I felt in each one as I paraded them for the generic watcher on the chair.

She reacted to each one appropriately. For that I am grateful. But by the end of the show she was drunk.

Little blue spider bite shots.

I drank her under the table. She couldn't hold her liquor. Like I said, she wasn't what I needed. But the temporary fix did me good. Good enough I left to prowl the streets. The emperor with his new clothes.

Problem with that was I forgot where I left her. That could be bad. I hope that doesn't come back to haunt me. Spider bites are hard to miss.

While I was strolling the strip and stretching out my new skins I spied him.

I love it when I want it to stop

Somewhere along the yellow brick road to find the Wiz and get my heart I fell off the side and rolled into a briar patch .. and there in the thickest part I found three. I ate one and had two left over. I wanted to eat them all but there wasn't enough room in my stomach so I saved the other two for later.

Origami doggie-bag coming right up.

So the problem. I was stuck in the briar patch and all rusted tight and no where to take my new found pulsing organ. All this blood flow and no where to spend it. Damn good thing Princess Peach had taken her mushroom home or I would have shown her just what I could do with her truffle.

Party of one? Let me find you a table, Sir.

I could feel every skin cell. Hell I could feel every DNA strand twisting with my new found sensitivity. Suddenly I was so small and it was so big and the White Rabbit was tapping me on the shoulder and asking me if I wanted wine with my meal.

And may I say a very good year, Sir.

Oh where or where has my little bitch gone? Oh where oh where can she be? Never mind, you'll do nicely nicely. Now put your lips right here and .. whistle.

Will there be two for dinner, Sir? Let me get you another glass.

Oh it hurts me. Three little mittens had lost their kittens and they began to cry. Poor little mittens I've eaten your kittens and now I am going to die.

May I suggest the mutton, Sir?

Someone stop this merry-go-round I want to get off. I think I might puke. No, wait .. too late. Can I ride again now .. I have two more tickets.

Your bill, Sir. Will that be cash or credit?

blow me

Well it rains and it pours when you're out on your own
If I crash on the couch, can I sleep in my clothes
‘Cause I spent the night dancing, I'm drunk I suppose
If it looks like I'm laughing
I'm really just asking to leave this alone
You're in time for the show
You're the one that I need
I'm the one that you loathe
You can watch me corrode
Like a beast in repose
Cause I love all the poison away with the boys in the band

I've really been on a bender and it shows
So why don't you blow me
A kiss before she goes

Give me a shot to remember
And you can take all the pain away from me
Your kiss and I will surrender
The sharpest lives are deadliest to lead
A light to burn all the empires
So bright the sun is ashamed to rise and be
In love with all of these vampires
So you can leave like the sane abandoned me

There's a place in the dark where the animals go
You can take off your skin in the cannibal glow
Juliet loves the beat and the lust it commands
Drop the dagger and lather the blood on your hands, Romeo

I've really been on a bender and it shows
So why don't you blow me
A kiss before she goes

Give me a shot to remember
And you can take all the pain away from me
Your kiss and I will surrender
The sharpest lives are deadliest to lead
A light to burn all the empires
So bright the sun is ashamed to rise and be
In love with all of these vampires
So you can leave like the sane abandoned me

-MCR lyrics

love in A minor



you left me
and I didn't look back
your precious pains
clutched tightly in your hands

I love you a little less
than I did yesterday
for your abandonment
when I walked away

and in all the places and in all the times
from all the stories and from all the rhymes
when all my verbal pixels are penned
am I your beginning or am I your end?

so where are you going?
I'm headed this way
but don't turn around
when I want you to stay

there's nothing I can do or say
to make you want to stay
no there's nothing I can do or say
to change that part
of my dead and bloated heart

wash your hands
get out while you please
because you scare
the living shit out of me

and
I want you to know
if you don't surrender
and become all I need
I might forget to remember

and in all the places and in all the times
from all the stories and from all the rhymes
when all my verbal pixels are penned
am I your beginning or am I your end?

dance marionette
to the piper's rune
and when you walk away
I'll whistle the tune

but
I want you to know
that if you came along
I'd love you some more
just because it was wrong

©2007 Mine: written for and dedicated to a night without alcohol

but .. I'm awfully fond of you

Ah Juliet .. I'm no fucking Romeo. And when it's all said and done I've probably molested all your sacred issues and took a piss in your toilet, and I probably didn't put the seat down either. So why are you still here? Is it pity? Pity for the boy that needs to feel so bad it nearly kills him when it does?

Fuck you.

You owe me some blood bitch. And I mean to collect.

I might learn to love you just because I think it is the most cruel emotion that one human can offer another. And I can't think of another way to eviscerate your pity any quicker than that particular sharp scalpel. For when it's all said and done do you offer me anything more than the spittle on my lips when I'm done screaming your name? Am I supposed to leave a tip on your pillow when I'm finished?

Do you sleep with a poison pin with my name on it? Which one of us is worse? Is it me for not having the capability to feel? Or is it you because your fabric of caring is patched and stitched together by rotten threads of justification?

Would you still be here if you knew all I had done? The pain I've caused and the lives I've ruined? Would you forgive me? Offer me absolution so my little patch fits in the space you need to fill? Do you have a home for all your lost boys? Have you tried your skin on lately? It's looking a little frayed around the edges.

So what's going to happen when I muss up your little world? What's going to happen when I don't fit? I don't stay in my room when I'm told. Are you going to gather all your little toys and stomp your tiny foot and demand I leave if I don't play nice?

Princess.. I've got something for your precious little ducky .. right after I wipe this spit off my lips.

P.S. There's a dollar ninety-five on the pillow.

sunglasses at night

I know the smell of a Kur. I know the sound. I don't know if there was actually a Kur at the falls or if it was some sick joke by some really bored spoiled Red Caste brats. All I know is that my reaction was instant and instinct as I grabbed the woman I had yet to touch. It happened so fast that it took time for her to soak through the heavy velvets she was wearing. I felt my soul filling slowly and without sign it was going to stop any time soon. I know all the secret trails that the animals use. I know every escape route and every secondary plan to get from point A to point B without getting caught. So it was simple enough to get her back to the gates into the city proper from the more wild gardens and falls. Usually though I am not carting a screaming woman intent on not going anywhere with me and certainly not quietly. But that was as far as I was going. I had drawn my sword to start back for Heidi .. not forgetting the reason I was earning coin in the first place .. but that is when my knee went out from under me. My legs refused to work properly but that was not my most pressing issue. My sight was gone. Blind as a wounded bat.

No .. I did not need this happening here. Not here. Her screaming had surely alerted every testosterone filled Red Caste between here and the Anbar district. That was all I needed .. Ar's finest relieving the poor abused free woman of the naughty barbarian who was molesting her sacred vessel. What dysfunctional maggot took root in my brain to even give a shit I don't know. But now I was going to pay for it with my life if I did not think quickly.

But thinking quickly was not to be for I ended up retching my guts out until I thought for sure the base of my balls came out passed my teeth with ichor drenched bile. That sucked. Problem was I had a little difficulty controlling all the sudden emotions flittering inside me like sparrows scratching and fluttering against the inside of my skull. Twitterpated was a fucking understatement. This of course all manifested itself in a fit of sniggering giggles. I sounded like a horny catholic school girl. I nearly turned myself on. It was contagious. The scene was gruesome morbidities at their finest for heightened blood pressure from the exertion, the run, and the sudden experience of all the emotions at once exploded many tiny capillaries.

Why wouldn't she leave me alone? Why wouldn't she just go? Was she trying to get me killed? Was this paybacks for dragging her away and putting my dirty paws on her precious pristine person? I can't remember all that happened. I can't remember what all I said. I know I wanted nothing more than for her to go away and yet ... I needed her to stay. The gift was incredible. I wanted it more than anything. There was just no time to enjoy it here. I ... didn't want to be impaled for it. There was a lot I intended to do yet with my miserable life and I wasn't done wasting it... damn it.

She left me .. when I could see again. I remember returning to the main parts of the city. I remember I had a few emotions I hadn't been able to shed off yet still trying to crawl through my eye sockets. I remember ... I remember I didn't look back.

they're touching me

I slept. It was not the deep comfortable sleep of alcohol induced unconsciousness. It was the troubled half-way-to-hell sleep of the righteous and the sane.

When I woke my anxiety was high. I needed to be clean. I felt every fingerprint in great ridge detail upon my skin and I scrubbed several layers off. I still feel it. There is no disinfectant strong enough to make the stench and tacky stickiness of humanity go away forever. The shaving helps. No fine hairs to catch their bits of virus coated offal. The air caresses with wrinkle free shrouds around me .. and I am eased.

The bedding was next. Thrown into the hall to be washed by one of the slaves. On the rare occasions I let someone into my pristine place of peace, I tend not to allow them to touch anything I can not throw out to be laundered. Even the idea of not doing so sends a shiver up my spine. Their pours oozing body scented oils that leave prints everywhere as a testament to their invasion.

My hygiene rituals are extensive and precise. That includes orifices that otherwise might offend me by lack of attention to detail. Fingernails and toenails trimmed and cleaned to perfection. I use cheap strait forward soap that has no perfumes or dyes to pollute it. A bit of mint can always be detected on my breath. The rest .. you'd have to know me a little more personally.

When I as well as my chambers were clean. When the smell of soap and mint replaced the scents of cheap perfume and cheaper pussy. When the anxiety was paid her due, I decided to take a walk.

Thursday, July 19, 2007

Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo

I did what any red blooded human male would do with his new found love.

I got drunk.

Then I wrote her a letter.

I am not sure how many of them I wrote and what all I said. I kept crumpling them up and throwing them into the fire. It didn't take long before everyone left me alone. This is the first time they've seen me drink at Grimm Pleasures.

I know I wrote three songs, two sonnets and one haiku before I lost track. The Innocent wasn't in the tavern, or if she was I hadn't noticed .. which isn't saying much in the condition I was in. I remember weeping over a particularly good piece but not much after that. And I don't know where I left it. It was a good one. Or at least I was sure it was last night. It was all so clear at the time. Not so much now.

Also what is not so clear right now is where I picked up the female. I leaned over and licked the salt of spent tears off her cheek. I felt something stir again within me but when she whispered she loved me I kicked her off the couch. She started crying again. I remembered that is what drew me to her in the first place. The tears. But now they were just annoying. She was pretty when I was drunk .. and I was pretty fucking drunk. But now she just looked very .. tired. Not sure what all I put her through last night but whatever it was she was all in and I was all into her being all in somewhere else. I had to drag her out the door and throw her down the stairs. I should have looked closer at her collar .. might have to pay for that.

I crawled back onto my couch and tried to sleep. But my brain kept slipping sideways without my skull. My mouth was full of sweaty dirty cotton and my eyes needed to shed a few scales. I stared at the ceiling and counted the stains. I can't remember what all I drank .. I remember vomiting something the color of 2000 flushes. I wonder if it made my teeth blue.

I stayed in my rooms today. Perhaps I will venture out this evening. The cool mists of alcohol still shroud my brain and I am content to lay here. I hope I can find what I wrote for her. I think I remember it was very profound and literate ... right and the slave was pretty.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

love

Well you can dig me up a grave
And try and stick me in the ground
Well you can tie me to the bed
And try and beat me half to death
But you can never keep me down
Well you can stick me in a hole
And you can pray all day for rain
You can shoot me in the leg
Just to try to make me beg
And you can leave me there for days
And I'll stay alive
Just to follow you home

And I will survive
'Cause you're my Mississippi Princess
You're my California Queen
Like the Duchess of Detroit
And every city in between
You can slap me in the face
You can scream profanity
Leave me here to die alone but
I'll still follow you home

You can make a couple calls
And tell your brothers I'm in town
Put a bounty on my head
And tell my parents that I'm dead
And hope to hell I'm never found
You can steal me the keys
To your daddy's Cadillac
You can tamper with the brakes
Call it a mistake
And pray I'm never coming back

You can dig me up a grave
And try and stick me in the ground
You can tie me to the bed
And try and beat me half to death
But you can never keep me down

And I will survive
'Cause you're my Mississippi Princess
You're my California Queen
Like the Duchess of Detroit
And every city in between
You can slap me in the face
You can scream profanity
Leave me here to die alone but
I'll still follow you home
-Nickelback

my Michelle

"Well, well, well you never can tell
well, well, well my Michelle

Everyone needs love
You know that it's true
Someday you'll find someone
That'll fall in love with you
But oh the time it takes
When you're all alone
Someday you'll find someone
That you can call your own
But till then ya better ..."
-GnR

I love.

I think it is love. I'm not exactly sure. I haven't ever loved before to my knowledge. And yet, I think I love. There is a darkness swelling up inside of me that I can't identify. It resembles the shadows of my dreams, my nightmares that I can't remember. It feels like the same absence of light. Ravenous blackness eating its way outward from inside of me.

What is love? Is it an emotion? Is it a feeling? It isn't like that with me. It is a drive, a force, a directive to do and protect and to be something for someone else. There is no emotion in it for me. It does not feel cold or warm. I just want to ... do.

She is so small and frail and I wish I knew why she was different for me. Different than any other human I have ever met either here or on earth. I am tormented by her eyes and her smile and her fingers. I feel my chest ripping outward with this swelling of intention. She makes me imagine I am bigger and stronger. What does this mean?

I was following her. I was scaling the cylinders and jumping and swinging from walk to walk above the street. When there were no ropes I used the small spaces between the stones working my way over ramparts. My fingers are sore and bloody but I did not even notice as I kept her in my sights. I came to rest on a bastion when she stopped and it was then I noticed the beautiful people. So busy. So consumed. I was distracted.

I paused to perch upon the precipice of parapet and I pondered the portent of my pretentiousness and somewhere in the process I lost possession of my prey.

Monday, July 16, 2007

and she had no idea

spider starfish eyes
suspended
by sinew strings
of secret sufferings
staring longingly
upon surpassing life
without the asylum
of sheltering lids
stretched of tendon
sanity's edifice
structurally sound
starved for sustenance
satiated by
sepulchral sheep

and then ...

she educed
sweet succor
sensual sanctification
twice and thrice
she sliced and diced
severed innervating light
singed and cauterized
peaceful silence
finally shrouded
by my
seneschal sapient sadist
©2007- started 2005 finished 2007, thank you

Sycophant

I abhor sycophants. Probably because I make such a poor one. Should I judge parasitic organisms simply because I am such a failure at being what I am? Doesn't one loathe most what one is by rights? Do we all not strive above ourselves?

They make me feel dirty. And despite my slovenly appearance I am clean. So clean I shave .. everything. Flatulent flattery weighs me down like tar. I start to stick to everything and I can't move for the distasteful stench of it all. Mired in pits of black suffocating substance. It shackles my intentions, whether best or not. I can do without it.

By rights of who I am and what I am I should learn the art and thus feed myself. But I can't. It hits my stomach like ipecac and uncontrolled regurgitation ensues to the point I catch my bowls behind my teeth until bile stains them yellow. In other words. I don't like it much.

Appreciation is another thing entirely. Sometimes it is said with a look or a few words. It does not feed me but it does help to motivate me. Why? I am not sure. Perhaps it is a dysfunctional way of attempting to form my own identity. Something I seem to portray but rarely feel.

My head hurts. I would weep for the pain of it but it does not sate me. My eyes are swollen and bloated. The aegis turned to pressure against the liquid center. Everything is blurred and distorted. In my self absorption I am even more antisocial. Laconic. Torpid. Insipidly feverishly languid. I have nothing to offer and very little to give.

Except for a few coins to an innocent who needed a light in the darkness. I cared. Perhaps I am saved.

My head still hurts.

Sunday, July 15, 2007

from heaven or hell?

I saw her again. Red that is. The little red haired slave that seems to be the catalyst for all my recent experiences. Like an angel with an omen. She was the portent of the recent dabbling with beautiful people. I don't know if she is a good angel or a fallen angel. Both ideas hold some value for me.

She left after seeing me. I was disappointed, understanding but still disappointed. If I were a slave I wouldn't serve me either. I am not the kind of guy that attracts slaves. They don't jump into a kneel when I am around or crawl instantly to beg to serve me. Probably because I don't look like I care enough, at least about them. And slaves seem to need a shepherd through the darkness. I sure as hell am no shepherd. But my Red Angel still draws me in .. or up. She makes even my scattered intellect sit up and take notice. It has to just on the premise of keeping up with her. Not that I am all that successful at it. Sometimes I realize we are talking along parallel lines that shall never intersect. Instead of finding that frustrating, I am entertained.

of Grimm Pleasures

There are seven Brothers Grimm. And just as many reasons to not cross them. Most of them are muscle, neanderthals. But there is one who is quite clever. He is the one to watch. But they all work in this collective, borg, way that defies reason so you actually have to avoid them all.

The place is not the worst. Not the best. They will do whatever people want/need/desire at the moment and that could be anything from "food" to "alcohol" to "sex" to "I really hate my mate and I want them to disappear". I am surprised they do not serve Italian here. The Brothers have their big meaty mitts into everything. They have taken multitasking to new levels, though I suppose that is not too hard considering how many of them there are. God forbid number four or five gets bored or sits around and eats too much cannoli.

Grimm Pleasures is not my first employment on Gor. I have quite a resume. I would if I could remember all of them anyway. I am also not the only one employed by this fine upstanding establishment. There is a big sonofabitch black guy with markings all over his body kind of like mine but .. different. His name is Djinn. I call him Rummy. He doesn't get it. Which is a good thing too because one of his fists could crush my skull easily. But he seems to like me. Perhaps all that inking leached into his brain. If the Brothers Grimm are like the Mafia then Djinn is like the big guy with the mirrored sunglasses standing by the door.

There are others of course but they have not exactly entered my sphere of focus yet. The only one that does not exactly fit here is Heidi. Indentured virgin. You can smell her innocence and the brothers have used this to their advantage. She is one of the beautiful people. She doesn't belong here and yet she does not seem completely loathe to be here. She appears to be here of her own volition. I am curious.

And who am I? That's easy. I'm the janitor. They call me when they need something cleaned up, swept up and polished. I not only clean up the mess, but I direct the entire thing somewhere else just in case there is someone left to remember the mess. By the time the authority arrives with their uptight over stimulated ideas of themselves and their purpose .. they realize they are at the wrong establishment all together and the entire thing happened two streets over, or at least three doors down. And there is plenty of evidence to prove it. Not that they employ any CSI over the top techniques. In fact I think my talents are wasted. But I've proven myself valuable enough that I no longer have to worry about the rent or food. Grimm are not the best people to work for but they aren't the worst so I am at least adrift somewhere in the middle. Any worse and I would have to worry about my own survival more than the job I was paid to do and any better and I would have to worry about the politics. So I'm alright with this middle.

Saturday, July 14, 2007

social studies

Since I am not one of the decorative bits it follows that I can fade into the shadows wherever I happen to be. And this holds true in Ar. Despite my odd appearance people look over me as if I am not there. Most people anyway ..

In my time in one of the wealthiest cylinders here in Ar I did my studious attempts at understanding this place. I have come to the conclusion it is a shadow planet of earth. Take earth ... add extra legs, hair and fangs and you have Gor. Trim it with a man's fantasy and you pretty much have summed up the entire outline. The juicy center of this twinkie is that this place is run by giant insects. You have to wonder at the irony of it all.

Nearly every race of people is represented here in its own rendition. Mutated perhaps over the centuries but the flavor still lingers. And at any given time you can see a representation of every representation here on the streets of Ar. The melting pot of this planet.

The woman Ath-aw-mayha ... I butcher it every time I try to say her name, is one of the beautiful people. You can smell it on her a mile, or a pasang if you prefer, away. Why is she slumming? Some beautiful people do so. For many different reasons. Her reasons? I don't know yet. But sometimes I try to figure it out.

The Scarab is slumming. But I know why he is.

They tried to tell me I had a disassociative identity disorder. I don't think I have that many of me. I think I just have a really shitty memory now and then about the times that I can't remember. I know exactly who I am. Besides, what the hell do I have to disassociate from? I can't think of anything right now. The entire idea is ludicrous to me. I think they were just out to give me another diagnosis so I had to take more pills, I know they wanted me to tell them the secret of ID, but I won't. Or I wouldn't ... I suppose that is all redundant now. They don't have mental illness on Gor and thus they don't have professionals to make money off of it. Boo-yah for me. They are all quacks.

After all that I nearly forgot why I brought it up in the first place. A need to make money. So I have sold myself, rather my talents since they did not seem in need or want of my soul, to the tavern/inn/whore house/whatever you want for a price-place of ill repute .. Grimm Pleasures. The benefits are two fold for me. One I get coin for what I will do and two they stop chasing me around the streets of Ar.

That only leaves about three other groups of people I have to avoid. One down ..three to go.

of cities

Cities across the globe .. and now I can safely and with all authority say even across the galaxy, have the same functional outline. There is a need for food, water, sanitation, transportation and habitation. Living beings need a place to live, they need to eat and drink, dispose of the waste resulting from eating and drinking, and get from one place to another in a reasonable amount of time. Reasonable being relative to a particular planet's technological progress, of course. Now outside this very stable infrastructure are all the decorative bits. The social trimmings that make a place unique. I don't exactly fit into the decorative bits. I am in a sea of shadow figures that move around behind the scenes. There are those invisible people who are the ones that repair the street in the middle of the night and otherwise grease the wheels of the big machine and then there are those of us who have no particular place. We just ... exist. We are the ones the beautiful people try to forget and yet we are the mass. We outnumber the beautiful people and yet, we seem so enamored by their very beauty as to empower them to bigger and greater things than we ourselves feel capable of ascending to. How humble ... how noble, of us.

Many of the invisible people are morally and ethically sound. In fact they are more honorable than the beautiful people. More strict with their children and have higher standards than the beautiful people. They are what keep the city alive. They are the backbone. The stability. They ensure fresh blackwine beans and the latest fashions made up into wearable clothing at precisely the right time and place to make the beautiful people .... well, look even more beautiful while they are being .. beautiful.

Then there are the insects. The scavengers. Those shadow people who prey off of and eat the weak, sick and dead of the city's society. We devour the rotting and provide the fertilizer to keep the backbone strong. Without the insects there would be no need for policing and locks and guards and clinics and banks and ... well you get the idea. There are a lot of people who make their living off the insects. As well as rely on the insects to ... clean. The only time this becomes a real problem is when an insect gets out of control. Eats the wrong beautiful person, or too many stable invisible people so that the beautiful people get inconvenienced and that is even worse than eating one of them. They really ... really loathe being inconvenienced. So as long as we stick within the very simple parameters set ... we are free to do what insects do.

So even in Ar there are the levels of people. The beautiful people. The stable invisible people behind the walls and beneath the floors making all the things work for the beautiful people. And then lower than that, within the drains and trenches we have the insect shadow people .. that would be me.

Friday, July 13, 2007

papa's got a brand new bag

Alright,
now listen, baby

You don't care for me
I don'-a care about that
Gotta new fool, ha!
I like it like that

I have only one burning desire
Let me stand next to your fire

Listen here, baby
and stop acting so crazy
You say your mum ain't home,
it ain't my concern,
Just play with me and you won't get burned

I have only one itching desire
Let me stand next to your fire

You try to gimme your money
you better save it, babe
Save it for your rainy day

I have only one burning desire
Let me stand next to your fire
-Hendrix

I saw her again today. I was right. She is like a drug. No, perhaps I should say she is like the promise of a drug. I am not sure which is more luring. The promise, or the culmination. But I will not deny there is a draw to her. She warms the frozen edges of my emotions. I don't exactly feel, but I think if I just stay long enough I might. For me that in itself is a heady mixture. I want to learn more. I can't use the word desire for the word desire breathes, it feels, it exists ... but not for me.

In the puppeteering of my expressions I have noticed a penchant for mimicking hers. I am not sure yet if she has noticed or not. But you see, she picks up emotions like discarded lucky pennies. And she does not care if they are face up or down. Talking to her on the street was like wading through the crowd. I felt like I was talking to a hundred different people all contained in one not unattractive package. She is a candy store of feelings. Some of them are her own but many are from others. People passing us left odd colors on her aura like passing a magnet over a computer or TV screen. We are mirror opposites. I am empty and she is cracked and bleeding with it all. I don't mean to say that she is insane. If she is she can pretend she is not with the best of us.

I feel like a gargoyle waiting on some tower corner, guarding the castle. I must wonder if there will be a time I come to life and fulfill whatever purpose I was made for.

Clarity is still mine. I am enjoying the clean window for now. But with clarity comes reality and reality is making it clear I must do something for money.. coin. That thing that buys survival. And I must do it before the window starts to darken. I feel the anxiety invading my calm. There is much I need to accomplish.