Still – Losing love to addiction

“When you can stop you don’t want to, and when you want to stop, you can’t…”
  Luke Davies, Candy  

“What about today, you ask? Today it’s already too late. He’ll be home soon, and I have dinner on the stove, and wine chilling in the fridge. And he will smile at me when he comes through the door, and I will pretend like this fragile, dangerous thing we have created between us can last forever.
Just one last time, Sweets. Just one last fix. That’s all I need.
And that is why I now understand addiction.”  – 

 Marie Sexton, Strawberries for Dessert
 

lizzesaurus

Now love is to suffer at addictions hand,

This fight that happens I can’t understand.
I wish it were you that love had freed.
But addiction won, it a sturdy steed
Forcing itself on loves soft breast
Love itself would lose the test.
So take your leave I know you will
Follow your lust, I love you still

Related post: Evidence of a Shell 

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If you need help with addiction GET IT.

Love Again 2 –

I believe this fits the general theme of my blog and so I give you this poem, written by Philip Larkin. Enjoy.

Thomas Hawk

“Love again: wanking at ten past three
(Surely he’s taken her home by now?),
The bedroom hot as a bakery,
The drink gone dead, without showing how
To meet tomorrow, and afterwards,
And the usual pain, like dysentery.

Someone else feeling her breasts and cunt,
Someone else drowned in that lash-wide stare,
And me supposed to be ignorant,
Or find it funny, or not to care,
Even … but why put it into words?
Isolate rather this element

That spreads through other lives like a tree
And sways them on in a sort of sense
And say why it never worked for me.
Something to do with violence
A long way back, and wrong rewards,
And arrogant eternity.”

My Girl Manny Quinn

“Art and love are the same thing: It’s the process of seeing yourself in things that are not you.” – Chuck Klosterman, Killing Yourself to Live: 85% of a True Story
thestuffispoison
Pressing my lips to yours…the coolness soon gone with hardened kisses. Inanimate style, making me hard. My hands trace over your glossy skin, swollen to meet my design. My fingers skip across your seams, more oil makes it easy. I carry you to the room, your long hair falling across cheeks blushed with my paint. I fall on you with unrestrained fervor, wild horses in my blood. Turning the music up loud, and dimming the lights enough to cover your dead eyes, I leave you there, lying still in my bed. Taking enough time to adjust the amount of blood in my alcohol, I come back to you. It never matters how long, still you hold that position for me. Never being able to scream means you can’t moan your pleasure over my illegal intrusions. I love you my sweet. I think tonight I’ll make you a blonde, and tomorrow a brunette. Then, I’ll tie your stiff arms behind you and in my final thrust, I’ll feel your soul drain and you’ll lie limp in my arms. My tears wet your flattened breasts, your misshapenhead makes your eyes point in crazy directions. You are my everything, you never leave, you never complain, you never reject me, your are mine and I love you, Manny Quinn

(’tis all in jest my faithful readers)

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