Tag: chasing

Albatross

“There is love of course. And then there’s life, its enemy.” – Jean Anouilh

albatross

Fingers brush through your hair 
your leaving me there,
Floating on my ocean dream.
Feet run to your kiss, I say farewell to bliss, 
Crashing along the windy cliff.
Eyes transfixed on your stare,
of you I must beware, 
Chasing me on the rocky edge.
Mind searching for a hint,
your affection leaves no imprint, 
Leaping off to fall free.
An albatross on a long flight,
a blind journey with no insight, 
Asking “Where will I land?”

Also published in Broowaha 

Also published in Wingposse, June 2012 

12202011 

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It’s A Long Way Back –

“The Edge… there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over.“– Hunter S. Thompson
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“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.“ – Edgar Allan Poe
 *
butterflist

Its a long way back from the edge of life. I knew when I followed that path to the outer limits of my experience, my emotions raw and excited with newness of knowledge and feeling, that the price for this wonder is the journey back. It’s beautiful on the way to that edge, my soul being easily amazed by pleasures which offer no sure guidance and seduce me with their passion. This excitement is the elixir of madness offered by my wayward senses to lure me beyond the wise and sure. I have recognized the most painful of these experiences are the ones that offer extreme pleasures that lead me away from safety. There are many secrets out on that cliff, many of those secrets are taught on the journey back from the precipice. Run to the edge with reckless abandon, gather your pleasures of knowledge and lust, and know, a price will be paid. I’ll see you on our way back…

Also published in Life As A Human Magazine
Also published in Broowaha citizen newspaper
Also listed on Stumbleupon

First Published in Opinionsofeye.com

12022011

         

She Sings

“Dance your pain, sing your sorrows, because there is nothing else tomorrow.”
― Santosh Kalwar
 

She beckons one, she caresses you from afar.
You can’t see her, she knows you
You can’t hold her, never in your arms 


Hearing her singing in the trees, their leaves rustling her name 

Now you want her, feeling her desire
Now you long for her, feeling her power
Now you look for her, hour after hour 

Hearing her singing in the wind, the breeze whispering her name

You know she will fool you, she will give you great pleasure
You know she will hurt you, she will give you great escape
You know she will lie to you, she will give you great fantasy 


Hearing her singing in the storm, the thunder shouting her name
 
Left with nothing but what the struggle brings
Love wins once again, who’s next? 
She sings….. 

Also published in: Broowaha

12262011 

Angel, Part 12 – A Glimmer of Betrayal

We decided to meet again at a mutual friends house, and soon drowned our past in bottles of liquor, as was our custom. The party gave us enough publicity to dial in our emotions and be civil, at least for a moment. The night went smoothly, and our intoxication soon led to giggling and playing grab-ass for a couple of hours. The self-induced heaven I maintained was an amazing effort on my behalf, emotions in check, brain on hold. Of course, the sexual tension that always surrounded my Angel and I kept me going, “Hell”, I thought, “if nothing else I’m gonna get laid”. That seemed to get me through many nights with her, and, if I sorted them out then, I’d see what really was wrong with us. It’s entirely possible to live in my head, not checking the facts or figures or any reality whatsoever. But so goes this dance and regardless of logic and pain, which never added up to a positive, the door shut and in the darkness, our hands found each other. I breathed her in great gasping breaths, like a drowning man, breaking the surface a moment before unconsciousness. My hands ripped her shirt near off, her nails left tiny blood lines of passions anger. Our bodies moved so smoothly, wet with perspiration, sexual excitement, and hunger. As we satisfied our lusts with our fingers, our mouths, every part of our body became a playground, things that some considered taboo, seemed to possess us. Closing my eyes to the music, swaying with her sounds, wet and sighing sounds of desperation and passion. The light from the new day showed the results of our play. Clothes were everywhere, the mattresses separated and laid crosswise displaying the crumpled sheets and suggestive pillows and silken ties. That’s when I saw it, as she rode on top, driving herself on me with hard strokes of still drunk love, a glint swung from her neck, a glimmer of gold, a spark of diamond dancing just above my face. I’m sure she forgot she was wearing it, a symbol of her betrayal to me, a sign of success for her, his necklace pronouncing a conquest of my Angel. Yanked from passion, I couldn’t stop, I really couldn’t move, hypnotized by her sex, and violated by her betrayal. Oh dear God, my heart is stopping, I can bear no more, my mind drove itself to these newest depths of darkened morose pure and unadulterated pain. She saw it on my face, my tightened jaw, not from an orgasm, but, and she knew it quick, from that necklace. I could barely breathe, my throat dryly gasped out, “Why? Why would you wear that here with me?” But that was my Angel, that is who she is, no thoughts of anyone but her, no understanding of the repercussions of her curiosities. I was the fool. I made this whole thing up in my mind, I created the “us” from my own fantasies. She merely rode the ride, the ups and downs being a thrill of entertainment and nothing more. My reality, merely a fantasy, an old man wrapped in the make up and pretty things of her young world.

The End


Angel, Part 11 – The Fornication of Love

silvereyedgirl
I stayed away for more than a few days, days of torment made longer by the endless churning of thoughts and questions. I kept my phone on me all the time, slept with it near my head, staring at the black form until sleep overtook my reluctant eyes and mind. Every day or two, my waiting was granted a teasing reprieve, her text would come through with the ring I had set for only her, electronic signals that love was alive in me, but was it love? I didn’t really care by this point, in the pain, truth and lies fucked each other, perhaps like we did, and in an orgasmic cloud, a fertile ground for these games, love twisted with deformities of lust. The games turned quickly to survival, her bullets of jealousy, desire, and my insatiable desire for her ripped through me with startling accuracy. I sat in an almost trance-like state, even while I tried to work there was a shock, a numbness that was only shattered by her call or the stabs of jealousy that poked at my cavity of care and concern for her. I was helpless. Strong, intelligent, and utterly helpless before my Angel. No other force on earth could have brought me to my knees as quick as her magic body and moist mouth. No choices were left for me, I had to see her, I would see her. I could swallow my pain and calm my shattered mind, we could make it work. She really didn’t mean it, she was young and had been hurt before. There’s no way that she really meant to do this, right? I mean she really had to love me, it was an anomaly, a freak of nature that she let it go this far, I mean no one could be so twisted. I consoled myself into my own fragile and crazed comfort, I’d forgive her. I’d treat her better, be there more, make more money, put myself in harms way for her. Yes, that’s how I’d show her that it’s ok. I still wanted her, more than ever it seemed. The next call would bring us together again. Ahh, sweet relief as I gathered the entrails of my dreams and stuffed them back into this amazing thing I had with my Angel. Only, the tears kept coming, unexpectedly creeping up and running down my cheek as I swallowed hard with the acceptance of this new Angel. It probably was my fault anyway. 

Angel, Part 5 – Jealousy Breeds Over Angel’s Dancing

bunnyalexander

The nights dragged on into months. We both learned the game, with a quickness necessitated out of survival rather than, as she supposed, fun and glamor. My angels’ eyes lost their shine, being replaced with a distant look now shared with the rest of the dancers. She was fresh on the scene, and new girls make a lot of money the first few months of their rotation, their clients hoping to sway them with “generosity”. Other more unscrupulous men, professionals, hoping to secure her in their own businesses, would throw her lure after lure and line after line. Not knowing how to handle the growing concern and yes, jealousy, I tormented myself by watching her night after night, grinding on them, whispering to them, and worse still, disappearing into the private rooms that cheapened the scene, their rudely built walls ending a foot short of the ceiling. My guts ripped in agony night after night, developing a hardness of heart that was unnatural but soothing. One client in particular purposely set himself to provoke me, giving me the impression that he was a danger to my angel, which drove me near insanity. I begged to her to dance for anyone else but him, it tormented me. Many nights I watched him with interest and growing anger, burning deep inside, like only a jealous lover can feel. A hatred growing so strong as to rival the love I had and would soon turn me into a dangerous man. He took her one night into the room, I followed and sat close, as close as I could get. Tears welled in my eyes, anger pushing at me, jealousy tugging me, my own care for her demanding I take action. I had not yet resorted to violence in my life as a means to an end, but that would soon change. For now, I took an unconventional approach. I yelled for her to stop. I figured if she wanted money, I would give her money, I could give her what he did, or so I believed. I threw hundred-dollar bills in crumpled wads over the wall, pleading for her to stop. He was giving her what I could never give her again, a stranger’s attention. I stormed out of the building, everything in me screaming and confused and on fire with powerful passion. She came and found me, comforting me, with kisses now growing cheaper with time, telling me that it was her job, and it was. However, I would learn that there are other parts of her job that were not so well advertised to those on the outside. This lesson I would be taught well, emphasized by the peculiar fact that I never saw those hundred-dollar bills again, ever, it was never even mentioned.

  

Also published in Broowaha

12132011 



Angel, Part 5 – Jealousy Breeds Over Angel’s Dancing

bunnyalexander

The nights dragged on into months. We both learned the game, with a quickness necessitated out of survival rather than, as she supposed, fun and glamor. My angels’ eyes lost their shine, being replaced with a distant look now shared with the rest of the dancers. She was fresh on the scene, and new girls make a lot of money the first few months of their rotation, their clients hoping to sway them with “generosity”. Other more unscrupulous men, professionals, hoping to secure her in their own businesses, would throw her lure after lure and line after line. Not knowing how to handle the growing concern and yes, jealousy, I tormented myself by watching her night after night, grinding on them, whispering to them, and worse still, disappearing into the private rooms that cheapened the scene, their rudely built walls ending a foot short of the ceiling. My guts ripped in agony night after night, developing a hardness of heart that was unnatural but soothing. One client in particular purposely set himself to provoke me, giving me the impression that he was a danger to my angel, which drove me near insanity. I begged to her to dance for anyone else but him, it tormented me. Many nights I watched him with interest and growing anger, burning deep inside, like only a jealous lover can feel. A hatred growing so strong as to rival the love I had and would soon turn me into a dangerous man. He took her one night into the room, I followed and sat close, as close as I could get. Tears welled in my eyes, anger pushing at me, jealousy tugging me, my own care for her demanding I take action. I had not yet resorted to violence in my life as a means to an end, but that would soon change. For now, I took an unconventional approach. I yelled for her to stop. I figured if she wanted money, I would give her money, I could give her what he did, or so I believed. I threw hundred-dollar bills in crumpled wads over the wall, pleading for her to stop. He was giving her what I could never give her again, a stranger’s attention. I stormed out of the building, everything in me screaming and confused and on fire with powerful passion. She came and found me, comforting me, with kisses now growing cheaper with time, telling me that it was her job, and it was. However, I would learn that there are other parts of her job that were not so well advertised to those on the outside. This lesson I would be taught well, emphasized by the peculiar fact that I never saw those hundred-dollar bills again, ever, it was never even mentioned.

  

Also published in Broowaha

12132011 



Angel, Part 10 – The Hunt

billiefuckingpiper

I gathered the leftovers of my senses and with a hollow aching knot deep in my gut, stronger than any hunger, I went to edges of sanity and looked over. Putting all my tools in the trunk of the car and covering them with a tear-stained blanket, I drove slowly in the early morning, my only company were the frogs and katydid’s of the country, and softly falling rain. Parking a mile away, off the road and hidden from curious eyes, I crept just close enough to her house to see the driveway and laying down in the wet grass, stared at her front door until my eyes ached and head pounded with concentration. Who I should kill first? Imaginations of what was going on between them were thumbscrews of jealousy that tightened around my throat in an unflinching grip. Many questions; some of her, some of me, some of him, were just empty mirrors that reflected a violence behind my eyes. The rain was gentle, the pain was not, both soaking me, both making me cold. There I laid for hours, till the early light of day peeked over the trees. I grinned, even the sun shuddered at what was going to happen. Someone must have told her I knew because they never showed. Walking back to my car and tears came again at what I was becoming. Following my Angel cost me everything, I lost my way and lost my identity. What was I doing? The unknown circumstances and crazy love drove me mercilessly, and loves evil sibling, Jealousy, took me farther than I ever thought possible. I shook off the channeled spirits of murder from my soul, thanking God, not for lack of courage, but for lack of opportunity. My imaginations stoked the fires of wicked intentions, but now I’m confused, for love had calmed me enough to lust for her again. I didn’t care if she slept with them, as long as I could hold her and act out my fantasies on her, fucking her like they did. This is love, this is us, this is hell.

Angel, Part 10 – The Hunt

billiefuckingpiper

I gathered the leftovers of my senses and with a hollow aching knot deep in my gut, stronger than any hunger, I went to edges of sanity and looked over. Putting all my tools in the trunk of the car and covering them with a tear-stained blanket, I drove slowly in the early morning, my only company were the frogs and katydid’s of the country, and softly falling rain. Parking a mile away, off the road and hidden from curious eyes, I crept just close enough to her house to see the driveway and laying down in the wet grass, stared at her front door until my eyes ached and head pounded with concentration. Who I should kill first? Imaginations of what was going on between them were thumbscrews of jealousy that tightened around my throat in an unflinching grip. Many questions; some of her, some of me, some of him, were just empty mirrors that reflected a violence behind my eyes. The rain was gentle, the pain was not, both soaking me, both making me cold. There I laid for hours, till the early light of day peeked over the trees. I grinned, even the sun shuddered at what was going to happen. Someone must have told her I knew because they never showed. Walking back to my car and tears came again at what I was becoming. Following my Angel cost me everything, I lost my way and lost my identity. What was I doing? The unknown circumstances and crazy love drove me mercilessly, and loves evil sibling, Jealousy, took me farther than I ever thought possible. I shook off the channeled spirits of murder from my soul, thanking God, not for lack of courage, but for lack of opportunity. My imaginations stoked the fires of wicked intentions, but now I’m confused, for love had calmed me enough to lust for her again. I didn’t care if she slept with them, as long as I could hold her and act out my fantasies on her, fucking her like they did. This is love, this is us, this is hell.

Angel, Part 9 – The Call

billigibbons

The parties ended the same, taking the cash and getting drunk off our ass, then fucking each other raw till we passed out. Her body was young, firm and supple. She easily withstood the ravages of those long nights and trailer appointments in the hood. I’m a creature of habit, and, true to form, found my rhythm and performed flawlessly. Except for the little splits in my sanity, the little blackouts now and then. Was it because of stress? Alcohol? I really think my Angel is making me crazy. Love, damn the love that drives me, that won’t let me go, that keeps me tied to her. Shit, it didn’t matter, I barely had time to think about serious things, she kept me going and going. Isn’t this how the military breaks their prisoners? Lack of sleep, push, pain, push, pain, push. I knew I was coming apart, I knew what was happening to us. The paths that we walked down, never had a peaceful end. I kept going and going, never looking back, never having time too.
 
She wanted more. More money, more exposure to the life, more manipulation. This meant one thing inevitably whispered her name. Call girl. Which, has a legitimate sound, and like exotic dancing, is legit, but what she had in mind was to be paraded around, bought lovely things, be spoiled with attention, and then…to culminate the affair. Any woman would love that, but she wanted to make a business of it. In other words, a prostitute. I found this out, not by her telling me, breaking it to me easy like the private parties, but by soul wrecking surprise. I came to the club to drop off flowers, a spontaneous thing I did for her, my Angel. One of the girls met me at the door. She said that my Angel wasn’t there. She left with another guy. There it was, the brilliant crack of lightning as my mind and world shredded down the middle and splintered into a thousand self-destructive shards. Those shards hungered for more than my destruction. Oh no, I had more sinister intentions. Rage, mixed with betrayal, love and overwhelming curiosity to know all the facts. Perfect for creating a devil for my angel. I found the code to her voice mail (she still had the generic code set on it, go figure) and listened to the man arrange the date. I listened from the pay phone outside a little rat hole back city bar. It was dark, all the lights seemed yellow, dim, and barely holding their own. Leaning against the booth I replayed it over and over. Tears began, coursing down my cheeks in an angry, hurt mess. They would not be the last tears, nor would I be the the only one crying.