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 



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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 



Collateral Damage – Know when to let go of that hell bent soul

“She doesn’t know what she is doing
Only acting on what was taught her
Behaving irrationally and using
Destroying those who loved her

She goes on with her life
Only causing pain
There is always strife
Collateral damage, no gain.” – DMW



Hurting people, hurt people. It is no surprise, when you chase a hell bent soul to the edge, that your drawn down after them. Stand strong on your ground and know when to let go. Some people cannot be rescued. They must live out their destiny, which they have chosen, and you must let go. Beware then of collateral damage, for their life is like an exploding bomb and you can be hurt without seeing the wound. Collateral damage, the best defense is to not be there.

“We met one day after I was diagnosed

But I didn’t tell you.

You liked Wes Anderson

So did I

You listened to Bright Eyes

I did too

And one day, you told me

That you liked me

But I didn’t

So I kissed you instead

And told you about

How I liked to be on top

And how I wanted you

To be rougher

And I didn’t want you

To say my name and ruin the mood

All the things that seem personal

But really aren’t

But you said it

You said

That you loved me

But I didn’t

And this time

You wanted more than a kiss

So I went and kissed your father instead
Right in front of you

I wanted you to remember me like that

You didn’t talk to me for weeks

And then you showed up on my doorstep

Happily drunk on misery

And you said I destroyed you

And you said

I destroyed you

I said, Oh Honey

I didn’t destroy you, I destroyed me, you were just

Collateral Damage”lickallbrook

Published in: Broowaha
111611

Collateral Damage – Know when to let go of that hell bent soul

“She doesn’t know what she is doing
Only acting on what was taught her
Behaving irrationally and using
Destroying those who loved her

She goes on with her life
Only causing pain
There is always strife
Collateral damage, no gain.” – DMW



Hurting people, hurt people. It is no surprise, when you chase a hell bent soul to the edge, that your drawn down after them. Stand strong on your ground and know when to let go. Some people cannot be rescued. They must live out their destiny, which they have chosen, and you must let go. Beware then of collateral damage, for their life is like an exploding bomb and you can be hurt without seeing the wound. Collateral damage, the best defense is to not be there.

“We met one day after I was diagnosed

But I didn’t tell you.

You liked Wes Anderson

So did I

You listened to Bright Eyes

I did too

And one day, you told me

That you liked me

But I didn’t

So I kissed you instead

And told you about

How I liked to be on top

And how I wanted you

To be rougher

And I didn’t want you

To say my name and ruin the mood

All the things that seem personal

But really aren’t

But you said it

You said

That you loved me

But I didn’t

And this time

You wanted more than a kiss

So I went and kissed your father instead
Right in front of you

I wanted you to remember me like that

You didn’t talk to me for weeks

And then you showed up on my doorstep

Happily drunk on misery

And you said I destroyed you

And you said

I destroyed you

I said, Oh Honey

I didn’t destroy you, I destroyed me, you were just

Collateral Damage”lickallbrook

Published in: Broowaha
111611

Angel, Part 6 – The Flip Side –

moolf

Driving her to the club once again, my eyes showed the strain of working all day and watching her all night. We parted with our usual exchange of kisses and hugs. I drove away, looking back at my Angel, her innocent looks were slowly changing, leaving traces of fear and emptiness. My Angel, I want to take you away from all this. Gathering myself, like I always did when I had to leave her, I drove away slowly. The day I drove away faster than I came to her would be the end. Halfway home, my phone vibrated to life…its Angel, “Baby, don’t come back, I’m staying here.” “What!” I screamed into the phone, “What’s wrong, what happened?”. “They told me you were screwing another dancer, that you would hurt me, and that I needed to stay with them”. Swerving off the road, pulling a two point turn that would make a stuntman jealous, I peeled out back to her, stones and dust chasing me.

 
I hit the gravel parking lot, cranked the wheel and slid sideways toward the entrance. Flinging my door open, I jumped out, the car was still rolling. I didn’t give it the least thought, my only concern, was finding out who was sabotaging my relationship. “Fucking jealous haters, always gotta try some shit to get what they want. This time they went to far, I’ve had it.” It’s a bad thing when I talk to myself like that. The bar was still closed, the girls getting ready in the back. Kicking the door open, completely breaking the lock, I began my incursion. A want-to-be bouncer put his hands on me, I looked at him with rage lighting up my eyes. He let go almost immediately, standing back with both hands up, saying “Calm down man!”. I wasn’t a small man, throwing around logs all day had toughened and thickened me to serious looking potential, and this perhaps kept him at a distance as well. I kept screaming, “Who is the mother fucker who is spreading this shit about me?”. I grabbed a stool, throwing it across the bar into the one of the many mirrors, mirrors reflecting now, a passion of a very different sort.
 

Breaking glass announced to the rest of the club that something is about to go very, very wrong. Leaving a path of destruction, I found the dressing room, threatening anyone and everyone, screaming for my accusers to show themselves. Dancers ran, screaming, scared. Another bouncer looked frantically under the bar, probably going for a gun, which apparently wasn’t there. I sent mirrors flying, the carefully arranged makeup, scattered like cockroaches in the light as I flipped over tables. Smashed lipstick resembling bloody smears littered the carpet, as  I continued my enraged foray. Confronting her I used all my control to not be rough with my angel. She boldly said, “it was the owner, Paul and his wife”. “Fucking players, they just want a threesome with you!”, I responded, knowing Paul’s intentions from the start. They had to remove me from the game, for the very reason that was now playing out, their worst nightmare, a jealous raging man, with nothing to lose. I stormed out of the dressing room, now a disaster area, and focused on finding Paul.


Going back toward the entrance, I saw him, puffed up and proud, yelling at me. I ran and grabbed him with both hands, lifting him off the ground, pinning him to wall by his neck. I drew back and was just about to punish him, when I started to calm down. If I hit him like this, I would crush his cheek bones, ruin his jaw, and screw his life up for a good amount of time. I let him down as my Angel grabbed me and pulled me to the bathroom. She had an evil grin, an excitement at all this done for her, over her. She loved it, every minute. When I heard the crackle of police radios, she smiled again “there here for you”. Yeah they were here for me. From now on, the police would come four men and two cars deep when they heard my name.

 

 

Saltwater of Lust

“I was always holding onto people, and they were always leaving.” 
 – Lili St. Crow, Jealousy
Syrkell
The following is a fictional account, don’t get all worked up over it…

Yeah, I paid you for your services, what you thought was sex. Yeah, you used all my drugs, trashed my house, and spent my money. You lay down next to me, and to your surprise, I ask, “Can you just hold me”. You left within a minute, surprised at the intimacy I required. I can get sex without paying for it, but can I get you to just hold me? No amount of money or drugs can get you to just lay here for hours, caressing me, holding me, giving me affection, helping me to feel like I’m someone special. You leave me here, alone, me and my high. I can never get high enough, drunk enough, to lose this feeling of rejection and abandonment. I need to have a woman’s touch, that thing which you hold from me, your affections. Now I must go on, with wildness fucking every woman I can get my hands on, trying in vain to quench this thirst with the salt water of lust. What a fucked up game this is, a fucked up hand I’ve been dealt, to need something that I can never get on my own, to need you. I suppose I can blame it on anything I wish, but in the end, can you just hold me?