Pleasure Of Pain – An addict’s suffering

“Addictions that plague our friends, family, and neighbors bring pain, both for the user and those who try in vain to love them in spite of the torturous twists and turns of their habit. To the addict: There are no easy answers, don’t stop trying, get back up and keep on fighting.” – Healey’s First Law Of Holes: When in one, stop digging. ― Denis Healey

elements4health

Alone again in a cheap hotel room
The small TV flickering
The nasty images tempting
Putting my fate in the Pleasure of Pain

Been everywhere, feeling nothing
Trying to recover, going nowhere
On the sticky carpet falling
Putting my fate in the Pleasure of Pain

Fears from everywhere I hear
Muffled screams from the room next door
The dirty mirror reflecting
Putting my fate in the Pleasure of Pain

It’s all gone, money is low
One more call, one more go
The old a/c is struggling
Putting my fate in the Pleasure of Pain

Collapse, need to get out
Twist and turn from the pain
The phone light is blinking
Putting my fate in the Pleasure of Pain

Sounds exploding out of silence
Flinching in paranoid terror
So lonely, no one’s coming
Putting my fate in the Pleasure of Pain

This is fun? (no!) This is exciting? (tears fall)
This is what I live for? (deep sigh)
My future’s a pay by week hotel room (God…help me)
Putting my fate in the Pleasure of Pain

12152010

Leaving – The Death of Love

“With my last breath, I’ll exhale my love for you. I hope it’s a cold day, so you can see what you meant to me.
” 
 

radikal

I gave love the last burst of my precious energy, 
hoping to revive her before she passed on to the light. 
No shock on earth could ever start her heart again, 
growing cold as stone before my eyes. 
The hardness creeps in like darkness at sunset, 
first intriguing and beautiful, but then, a cold wind 
blows from the darkness, night is coming. 
One last chance I gave love, I started a fire in her, 
using all the dead things I had in me as fuel. 
Nevertheless, she refused to breathe. 
Now I feel her life ebbing from my soul. 
Her presence evaporating from my heart. 
Left with the cracked parched earth of my soul, 
thirsty for wetness, she refuses to live. 
Have you ever felt someone leaving your soul?

Have you ever felt someone leaving your soul?
Also published in Broowaha

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 

The Music – Music brings a release

 “Without music, life would be a mistake.” – Friedrich Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols

I turned the music on today.

I let the pain work its way out and through
my heart to my eyes,
welling up with watery release

I turned the music on today.
I let the tears come rolling on in and down
my face to my lips,
tasting my salty sorrow.

I turned the music on today.
I felt all of it rolling around and across
I let myself go
from my life in this dark room.

I turned the music on today… 

Also published in: Broowaha

12062011 



Though – To forget you, I cannot

 “Love between strangers takes only a few seconds and can last a whole life.”
Simon Van Booy,
Love Begins in Winter: Five Stories

I felt your hair, though you were a stranger, laying on my leg.
I enjoyed your attention, though you were distracted, by another.
I let myself feel you, though I knew you would leave, again.
I remember you now, though others have forgotten, you never left me.

12012011

The Queen, Part 13 – Comfortable Violence

 

spiffynorthwest

The throbbing in my shoulder matched the muffled sounds from the headers of the car. Sweet liquid morphine and shots of Jack Daniels had their desired effect, easing my body and mind out the bowels of this craziness. It’s amazing how fast life can change, from dreary and boring to “What the fuck!” in a hot quick second. I noticed things were getting easier, surprises less surprising, and choices made by previous choices. Violence became a common thing, life and death, no longer fragile and precious, but cheap and forgotten. The only lives important were ours. It wasn’t the fight for life, because I had life and it never was this exciting or crazy, but it was the fight for survival. I know survival is life, but there’s something about staring at the wrong end of the gun on a regular basis that ingrained a grit, a hardness that’s comforting and that sedates the complacency experienced by the blue and white collared grunts, performing the same routine, longing after a little dough to buy a house or car, or the beautiful trophy wife. I imagine cavemen had this same excitement, and really, that what this was. Caveman style, fight for survival, kill and maim to push ahead and escape. Some men are born for this lifestyle, and for me? Well I didn’t know, but I knew that guns now felt comfortable, my aim was sure and not shaking, my stride confident with my queen by my side. I guess that even if I didn’t start in this “trade” it seemed that it grew on me. These thoughts eased me into another deep sleep, the lullaby of mufflers at 70 mph, and the comfort of cold steel pressed against my skin and delicious lips, parted slightly with just a little strain visible on her china face. Where this was going, I didn’t care and it seemed my career description was rapidly changing from my old mundane, back breaking job, but the goal was the same, that I might see her and escape from the listless world that was mine, outside my Queen’s castle.

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