The cold stings my knuckles as I quietly tap on the door knowing that you will hear it. I admonish myself yet again for not using my palm, knowing the bone on would tapping wood only cause pain. Footsteps echo in my head as I hear you approach the door and turn the handle. You know it is me, you knew I was coming the polite call that I placed first is always a warning.
I often wonder how you deal with the thoughts that float through the air between us. I can’t read you like I read everyone else and this is a good thing because despite the reason I am here I really don’t want to know. The door opens in a rush of warmth, you must have the heat on or maybe it is just my body reacting to the cat like grace you use to step aside to let me in. I move forward slowly, cautiously, still afraid you will spook like the wild thing that you are. Walking past you making sure that no part of you touches me because the tiniest touch will have me undone. Sitting down on the worn sofa my hand automatically reaches out to pet the feline that stretches lazily on the armrest. Touching the feline is almost as natural a gesture as it was to touch you. Soon the others are there curling around my legs asking quietly for the attention that they know instinctively that I will give them because they are as much a part of you as anything else in the room.
I watch you for a moment as you move through the house only glancing up to meet your soft brown eyes with their almost girlish lashes for a moment as you set the usual choice of beverage down next to me. Not a word is spoken, even though your voice would send a shockwave up my spine. You move to the chair that normally sits near your desk. Your eyes flitting over what covers the wall before resting on me for a brief moment and then on the television that plays an inane drama that neither of us is interested in. After a moment of indecision you move closer to me making me wonder if you know how dangerous you are to me. How addictive you are.
I am almost sure that you do. You use it well to control me without making it seem like that is what you are doing. I watch you out of the corner of my eye, my hand still moving restlessly over the cat soft fur sliding through my fingers. You speak softly telling me about the things that you do and those that you wish that you were doing. I listen more to the timber of your voice than the actual words. One of these days you will catch me listening to you rather than what you are saying, trying to understand why the voices quiet and the glass doesn’t seem as sharp when I am this close to you. I am tempted to reach out and touch you but am afraid that you will dissolve into darkness
I know I should be able to take it with a grain of salt but I can’t. It eats me alive when it is like this because it shows things that I don’t want to see. They have no idea what they do to me. There is no answer to this. I should have stayed in my quiet reclusive state without any contact.
This is one of those days that I have gotten nothing done and can feel the glass writhing under my skin trying to break free. The shards just cut and slice deeper and I can’t do anything to stop it and I am not sure I would if I could. Sometimes pain is better than anything else at least it lets me know that I am alive. Unfortunately I should have stayed in my quiet corner and in my quiet home deep underground with the glass surrounding me. At least I know it I know what it does and why it does it.
Tonight I am so very disappointed. But then again I should know what to expect from people by now.
Since everyone I know seems to be locked into a progression of holidays it seems only appropriate that I point out the worst fact of all about this particular holiday. There are several and most do not fit with the annoyingly happy gift giving sappy cherub loving crap. The pagans and you have to love the pagans for this picked a day in the middle of February to celebrate fertility. The Romans not wanting to be out done had a woman lottery where they would essentially raffle off young women to spend a year with the participating men – most of the time this year ended in marriage (gee wonder why that is) This lottery took place only after proper sacrifices of goats, dogs, and other livestock and whipping the women with the skins…. yeah romantic.
This brings us to the Catholics, the Roman’s who sacrificed not one but several people named Valentine or Valentinus and the Catholics were set on making them martyrs. Nothing like celebrating death with love. Perhaps they did this just because it has always been frowned upon to celebrate love with death.
When asked my simple response is that I don’t celebrate holidays. Not due to religion I am Catholic which is not only a church of contradictions, riches, and holidays.
There are however a few things that they symbols of valentine’s day make me think of.
Cupid – cherubim servants of god who held the fiery sword barring the doors to Eden. Light bringer was a cherubim. He is also known by quite a few other names such as morning star and if you don’t know who that is study your lore.
Hearts – Now there’s a better image. Hearts bring to mind blood, pounds, skipping a beat, and how you could slip a small knife through the muscle between the ribs because it is only two inches to touch someone’s heart. Although this is probably not the type of touch the valentine’s day card writers mean. How slick blood is and how it changes colour as it leaves the body going from crimson to dull red.
Harlequin – Don’t ask why there is this association. For some reason valentine’s day always brings up the image of the character Harley Quin.
Aphrodisiac poisoned cupcakes and chocolates. It would be interesting to do and even more interesting to read the headlines in the newspaper or watch reporters try and describe the tragedy of hundreds literally fucking themselves to death. Oh come on you can’t say that you haven’t thought of it. If they poison Halloween candy why not…
No for those who wonder I do not hear voices… well sometimes I do but I don’t believe what they tell me… ok so sometimes I believe them but never act on them… oh hell I do often act on them because most of the time they are right.
I often wonder at what point I stopped caring what others thought of me and at what point I stopped caring about what I thought of myself. It was probably the point when I realized that I am the person you don’t want to meet in a dark alley mostly because I am in that dark alley for purposes that might offend most people’s delicate sensibilities. I am the person who makes the statement “Good friends help you move, best friends help you move the bodies,” and means it.
My value lies in the pleasure I give others and only in that. I am the one who when you ask what my name is I look at you and say “what would you like it to be.”
The value I get from writing all of this down is that maybe one person will read it and think to themselves I am not alone. There is at least one other person who understands this. Yes this blog is not cheery, inspiring, or of any extrinsic value but somewhere along the line it might help someone feel. It doesn’t matter which feeling it inspires in some it will bring the creeping sense of hot breath on the back of your neck the second you realize something is standing right behind you in that second before you turn on the light.
In some it will bring the sense of belonging that only cold brick can bring as you are pushed up against the wall and fucked in an alley behind that bar that you frequent.
In some it will bring the desire to push against those little things that are commonly called limits and bend them until they break.
And in some it will simply bring understanding that pleasure and pain can exist simultaneously in a mind shattering way.
Ok. Tonight I have the perfect chance to do what I want, to play how I want and quite possibly to get the dual sided affection I crave. Am I going to do it. No. Despite my desperation and absolute desire and longing I am not. All it would take is standing up getting into the shower and finding my keys (it has been a while since I have driving my truck oh fuck it there’s a spare) say screw my responsibility for ecstasy for just one night. No sex no obligation just pure unadulterated energy and something I have always wanted. I am almost tempted to stand and get dressed and go and then reality comes crashing down on me. I have lost too many friends speaking the truth what would happen if they knew how real the truth was for me. What if they knew what I am and what I want. I think they would run and I wouldn’t be able to stop screaming from the gaping hole that is just waiting to be reopened. i
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And now they can never get the timing just right. When they join together it forms a grotesque shape, all edges too sharp and dips and valleys too soft. There no sound other that a quiet gasping, because someone has always run out of air. They are so twisted and broken that they can’t even look each other in the eyes, and yet they can’t let go (don’t want to).
So every night they twist a little farther into each other. They break their souls so that the jagged pieces cut each other, the metaphor becoming so real sometimes that they will wake up with their bodies still tangled together, now slick with blood, and their mouths tasting like copper. And it’s fucking perfect.
Take this phrase, I often used it with my students when I was a teacher.
“Let’s eat, Grandma” and
“Let’s eat Grandma” Two totally different meanings and a tiny thing like a comma makes so much of a difference. If you don’t get how, that is ok you probably need to go back to elementary school for other things as well… oh and YES I know I am an elitist snob but there is so much to make fun of about people sometimes I just can’t help myself. I would never do this to someone who honestly didn’t know or had no reason to learn it. But if you were in almost any westernized nation you would have heard something similar to this.
People say that you should not take LSD or hallucinogens because they bring up all of the dark and nasty thoughts that are in your subconscious. When I was younger I tried LSD several times and liked it. I am a dark
sort of person and therefore write and read dark sort of things. I like poking at the thing that resides in the blackest portion of everyone’s
brain and seeing what comes out. It’s fun. If you don’t want to know what is lurking in at least one person’s mind don’t read what I write. There is a dark corner in all of us I just dragged mine into the light introduced myself and asked it if it wanted me to get to know it a little bit more over say afternoon tea. That was a long time ago and now that dark corner and I are very good fr
iends. Some people run from darkness others embrace it and I was never one for running
The monster inside me growls twisting its body right behind my eyes. I can feel it slither turning circles. Its body sliding sharp scales against my brain leaving lacerations that not even I can understand the implications of. I hear its rumbling breath, the gravelly whoosh that a large reptile at rest makes. It is much better when it is sleeping. I don’t have to feel it move restlessly like it is now. It wants something although it will not tell me what and I can’t fathom what it could possibly be. Sometimes it talks in low growling voice sounding much like the rumble of an earthquake sending vibrations through me. At times these vibrations are pleasant and at others horrific. At times it makes my entire body quake with the force of it. It echoes in my head painfully when it wants something as it is doing tonight.
If it would just tell me what it needs at this point I would gladly give it over without hesitation just to make it quiet again. The bladed tail swishes back and forth drowning the other voices, the quieter voices. The ones that tell me in their strange double way of speaking what I should do. These are the voices that make want to slice into my skin to let them out. There used to be only one crying in the distance but now there is a cacophony of speech sometimes drowned out by the dragon curled behind my eyelids. I can almost see him when I close my eyes. He is getting stronger and the rational voices are getting weaker. His frightening visage scares others when he peeks through my eyes. Others see something in me that scares them when he looks directly at them.
Ut alii do vita et sanabitur anima mea. Omnibus Angelis sanctis, et daemones praeesse dolor sit moriar et alius potest salvari. In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti.
Ok… so there is more than one annoying thing in this world but this just happens to be the latest. The quote that I use “And I find it kind of funny I find it kind of sad The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had” IS NOT FROM DONNY DARKO… not that I object to that movie it is not why I like that quote. The quote existed long before the movie and I use it because it is from a scene in a television show that sparked emotion in me. It made a kind of sense in a way that made me remember it. It being used for the movie Donny Darko makes no sense at all considering the movie and the song. Now that I am not sure if that makes much sense I am going to stop ranting about it now…