Kochira wa Geinin.

we all play parts in the greatest play
parts we often choose
but more often than not
just happen to fall into.
it's not so easy to walk away
to pretend we never wanted them
being a savior
a lover
a simple person
or even that one to take care of you
because sometimes we need to be
in charge of something
even if it's just playing our part right.
congregations of actors
all meet on the stage
and life begins a new
each and every day
listen closely
and sometimes you can catch
the slip of a line here and there
not every play is perfect
but when it is some call it fate.
I tried to play a part once or twice
but my co-stars never seem to get it right
flawed that I am
it must rub off on them
or at least it seems to.
I will never know the truth of the matter
for they are elsewhere now
on another chapter
reading another line
to someone who is playing a part
willing to be that one
who makes believe
without missing a beat
on the stage of life.

When people use you up, there is nothing left.

Often I wonder what the whole point is, to be constantly hurt and let down. So many people are out there happy and rejoicing in the crap that they sow for themselves, meanwhile I've just been stuck. Nothing to do, no one to love, just pain. Physical, emotional, mental. Many times I feel as if there is no exit, that this is it. As life has come to a standstill these last 3 years, slowly moored on the beach of pain, only amniotic sedatives seem to calm me, to throw off the distant disdain of apathy and anguish. It feels as if I was meant to be like this though, no matter who enters my life they always say "you are great, you are awesome, you are meant for so much." Yet they walk away, turn their backs on me, and toss me aside like a piece of discarded cartilage, meant to be there momentarily only to serve as a buffer between their emptiness and the next thing. Great, I say. I have found that I'm that guy, the one people use in order to not feel alone, the one people use in order to feel alive, because anything is better than THIS, and so they can acquire it and do so. Because no matter how many times they say that I'm beautiful or that I'm great, it's all lies in the long run. White lies meant to keep me at bay momentarily, an emotional band aid of sorts, to be tossed once I have run my use and course. Thanks a lot, to you all, is all I have to say. You make me feel worthless, and apathetic, pathetic, and unlovable. All in all, I hope you are doing well, I hope that life treats you with some sort of kindness, that which you lack so often when dealing with matters of the heart. Thanks for the extra pain.

John Lennon knew stuff

Truth

and I wouldn't know it

If I had never

felt the both

in such strong

waves

of emotion.

Flutter

Smoked my last cigarette
sleepy but not tired
dead but still awake
it's all on how you look at it
maybe I'll get another pack tomorrow
maybe I'll wake up and feel alive
maybe I'll stop living
in a wonderland
where a kiss is meaningful
and lovers still exist.
I really don't want to though
I'd like to live in fantasy
waiting for that one person
who will make my heart burst
just by having them near me.

Burnt Marshmallow

"Wretched night" are the words that escape his lips. Walking through the back alleys of the town, garbage lines the side of the buildings, some of it is made up like homes for the indigents and lost. Each step gets heavier and heavier with the passing of time, he needs his fix. Finally at his destination, a man in baggy clothes and baseball cap with shinny stickers on it looks him over.

"What will it be?" He knows his costumers by the visage of death drawn upon their beings.

"I just need the usual... It's been a long night." A stack of singles and fives is passed from one to the other, and as soon as it is counted a bag containing tiny blue pills is exchanged.

"See you soon."

----

When he gets back to his apartment she is waiting on the dirty old couch, a thing full of smells and stains that remark the past 2 years as if they'd been decades. Her thin lips are dry and chalked, a crust under her nose and bags under the eyes makes it hard to remember what she looked like before it all started. He puts his coat on the back of the door, and crunching past plastic cups and caps that litter the hallway he scratches at his head. Thin arms and even thinner wrists still manage to gather the tools of their addiction. Straws, tin foil, and a couple of lighters of which he can't recall if they are dead or not.

"What took so long?" she asks as her head wobbles, trying to sit up. He makes room for himself on the edge of the couch as he clears some of the table by tossing a heap of garbage to the floor.

"I was just thinking, maybe we ought to get out of here soon. I mean, like... get out of here, this town, start new somewhere else." He opens the baggie and takes two pills out, rips two pieces of tinfoil, and passes one of each to her. She grabs a straw and lighter just as he does and places the pill on the metallic surface. With the straw in her mouth she begins to burn the underside of the tinfoil, a smoldering crackling is emitted from the pill as it heats up and starts to smoke, she suctions the white smoke as the smell of burnt marshmallow fills the room. He follows suit.

As the pill melts, it moves on the tinfoil, making a dark spiral as it travels on the surface of the heated metal. Their lungs absorbing the opiate and eyes widening, this is what their life has become. After two more pills they lay back and hold one another.

"I think it would be a good idea." Her hair is oily from lack of washing, she tucks it behind her ears. Pimples are sprouting like mountains across her unwashed face. When was the last time they washed? They can't remember, the bathroom is only used to defecate once every couple of days, and maybe to throw up in more often than anything else. The shower is seldom used. "I'm tired of this place, the people are horrible."

Sustaining his head like a helium balloon that has grown too heavy, he comes in and out of consciousnesses unable to talk. They both fall asleep on the couch.

-----

Sunlight. It's warmth is heating up their faces, it awakens him. She's still asleep. Getting up he feels his bones crack, falling asleep on the couch is no good for them, but he doesn't notice after a fix or two. Once in the kitchen he pours himself some water in a cup that's been sitting by the sink for who knows how many days, weeks even. After gulping it down he opens the fridge to find it empty. The last of the food stamp money had been spent on their current stash, selling them had become yet another habit meant to sustain their addiction. He serves more water and drinks it down.

Sitting on the couch he sets up another piece of tinfoil, the roll is still new and has quite a bit of the shinny paper on it. He shakes the lighter to make sure it's still got fuel, placing another pill on top he lights up. She awakens as he blows smoke on her face.

"What... oh... here..." she grabs for the paper and straw as he lights it for her. This is how every morning is spent.

"We need more money, we'll be out by tonight." His voice shakes a little, she knows what he meas.

"Alright, I'll call Hue. I'm sure he could use some release." She inhales, and holds it. Again, burnt marshmallows fill the air.

-----

She's dressed up, unshowered, but dressed up. Her skinny legs are nothing like they used to be. Once upon a time she ran every morning before going to work at the restaurant, her figure was envied, her beauty was obscene. Every man wanted her, and she knew it. Now she's just another corpse walking the street.

"Hue is coming soon, you'll have to go wait outside. Can you head over to John's and see if he can hook us up with some pot? Tell him he can come by for the money later." She's applying lipstick to her chapped lips, a bit of eye shadow, and some flush takes away the look of death. She almost looks normal, but there is something about addiction you can never hide.

"Alright." It's all he says. He gets up and walks to the door, grabs his jacket and just as he's about to close the door she says to him:

"I love you!"

"I love you too babe... call John's when you are done." He walks down the stairs and runs into Hue, he's a tall blonde man, wearing glasses as usual. He's married, but likes to get his kicks elsewhere just like everyone else. He's never asked her just what he does that he has to go somewhere else to find it besides home, he doesn't care. Hue doesn't know who he is.

-----

John's house is five minutes from the apartment, it is an old house filled with old newspapers and an array of stuff which could be easily thrown out, but John just can't seem to part with it. It reminds him of his parent's, he says. They saved all of this stuff, and now it just happened to be his watch over it, having them both gone this was the only thing they'd left behind. A house full of garbage. He knocks on the door.

"Come on in!" John screams from within. Opening the door with his think fingers, he hears the rustling of the dog as it's running towards the door. It's an old pit bull with barely any teeth left, a very lovable old dog.

"So what's up?" John is rolling a blunt, he always has pot.

"Not much, Lucy is working a job so I thought I'd come by."

"I see..." He knew what this meant, but didn't say anything. Lucy wasn't a stranger to him by any means, even shut in pot heads need to get their rocks off every once in a while.

"Hey, do you think you can front us some of that pot? Lucy will have the money for you tonight, you can just come back with me and she'll have it for you."

"Alright, not a problem." Lighting the blunt makes the room fill with smoke almost instantly, maybe it wouldn't happen so fast if there wasn't so much shit in there, air circulation might be better, but tell that to John, he'd only say that it's his house and he'll do as he pleases. He's right though, no one should be telling someone how to live their lives.

-----

The phone rings, it's Lucy.

"Yeah, I'm all done over here, you guys can come through if you want."

"Sure, we'll be right there."

-----

She's back in her regular clothes, her face is still flushed even though there is no make up on it. Her lipstick is a bit smeared, and her hair looks kind of clumpy. She's smoking a pill as the two of them walk into the living room, seems like Hue left her a tip, there is a bag with a nice stash of pills by her side of the table. This is good, he wont have to go out tonight to re up. John takes a seat on a metal chair across from them, tossing a baggie of pot on the table.

"Twenty five please."

"Here you go." She puts down her utensils and reaches into her pocket, pulling out a small wad of bills. He accepts the money and pulls out a pre rolled joint, lighting it he winks at her and she smiles.

"So what is up for tonight?" John takes a couple of puffs and passes the joint to Lucy.

"Oh I don't know, thinking we are going to stay in and maybe watch some Fifth Element." Her voice seems raspy, maybe it's all the smoking.

"I was thinking we could get some groceries, the fridge is kind of empty." He takes the joint from Lucy and inhales a large hit, coughing as if his lungs were trying to escape years of torture and abuse.

"Easy old man, you can't take those big hits with this stuff." John takes the joint from him and puffs at it. "I can give you guys a ride to the market if you need, I could use some supplies myself."

"Sounds good, now that we have a little bit of cash it sounds like a good idea." She lights the tinfoil, and sucks in more of the burnt marshmallow.

-----

It's been three days since Hue came around, and they needed more money. Lucy went to walk the streets for a little while, he stayed at home trying to figure out who he could rob and how to make a quick buck.

Lucy comes in a couple of hours later, her dress is a bit ripped, and there is something dripping from between her legs. She doesn't say anything as she passes by him on the couch, she throws a wad of bills on the table and heads straight to the bathroom. He hears the shower go on. He grabs one of the last pills and lights it up.

"Hey, Steve!" She screams from the shower. "Can you head down to T's and pick up some more blues?"

"Sure thing babe."

-----

The alley hasn't changed much, a couple of bums are fighting over the contents of a garbage can as he passes them, they don't even notice him. Shadows seem to elongate and compress, the wind is blowing and there is little to no fresh smell, it's a stink of decay that seems to linger in the inner city. Shivering from the cold he crosses to the other side of the alley where T is usually hanging out this time of night, but he's not there. Instead there is another dealer, he's seen him before. Tall and dark, with an over sized coat on, gold teeth, and a fuck you look to him.

"What you need boy?"

"Umm... where is T?"

"He ain't here... now you need somethin' or not?"

"Yeah, I need two hundred worth..."

"Aight..." He reaches in his jacket and pulls out 4 baggies, each with 5 pills in it.

"Cool cool..." He hands the money and takes the bags. "Catch you around."

"Yeah, whatever."

-----

Back in the apartment she's smoking the last pill from the last stash. There are a few bills left on the table, and the aluminum roll is growing thin. He walks in and plops next to her, setting the bags of pills on the table as he does so.

"We really need to get out of here..." He says, but just as he does she kisses him and exhales into his mouth. The hit makes him feel light headed, he forgets what he was talking about.

"You just need some more of this..." She rips some foil for him, opens a baggie, and sets up a fix for him. "Come on, smoke some and fuck me."

He get's high, he doesn't fuck her, his dick can't get up after he smokes the pills. They both pass out on the couch as the sun begins to rise on the horizon.

Comment ça va?

Sometimes life feels like the movie Groundhog Day. Every day it's the same, every interaction is a mirror of days prior. It wont change until something big happens, until automatons stop showing up for work, cops stop sending people to jail, and politicos stop taking bribes. Until then, nothing is going to change, it will always be Groundhog Day, waiting for a furry over grown rat to tell us if it sees it's shadow or not, with a blizzard just outside of our door keeping us at bay. For now, I think I'll just work on myself, so when the day does move on, I'll do something so different that you wont have a choice but to say hello.

Sweet Lovely...

It's all so abnormal
the way we go through life
in our air conditioned vehicles
with our cellophane sex
barely talking to each other
like we were a million miles
apart, yet our skin touches
and our stink commingles.

I tried to love once or twice
it fell on my lap
much the way it usually does
and every time it managed to
be squandered by the corrosion
of time and space
triangles often do that.

Antiseptic dreams
clean and coordinated
like the dance of a dying race
we beat the drums of war
love and sadness
to the rhythmic procession
of hearts left behind to spoil.

Can you imagine
for just one second
what life would be like
if we all just said fuck it
and started to talk
and walk
and listen to one another
towards one another
and made the strides
to make a difference in our own
and each others lives?

I can't
I've been locked in too long
kept inside my wrapper
I know not freedom
I feel little but the air
as it rustles against my plastic prison
the medicine numbs everything else
and my mind plagues me with one thought
over and over and over and over again

When will I feel that soft caress?

Are you out there?

LF female 25-32 yrs old, without a criminal record, enjoys music, cheese, and dancing. Must be ok with video games, and possibly play W.O.W.

lolz if only it was that easy.

Whenever wherever

and wouldn't it be nice if we could wake up
dressed in the clothes you weren't wearing yesterday


kinked hair spread over the pillows
like her legs on that spring
my widow
I didn't leave anything behind
but a name
and some DNA


musing over her breath
heavy on my chest
like the thoughts of yesterday


with a spine crooked
like the number five
we crawl down the street
looking for another drink


lost down the river
we drown misery
and remind ourselves
that tomorrow is another day
another wrinkle
and it's alright

Cavities

There is nothing to worry about
the wind blows all the dust around
just as it begins to settle.
It's not about to keep still
it never does
it gets in your eyes
your hair
lungs
and you could even feel it
as it grinds against your teeth.
This dust
thinly spread through out
is the only thing left
of the past.
We once danced on clouds
made of sugar
caressed lips
numbed with lust
but in the end
it all turned to this.
A finely refined dust
that grinds against my teeth
to remind me
you were once here.

Contemplation

sometimes I wonder if I've done the right thing
by pushing away certain people
in the long run I will miss them
and hope to maybe see them again
but honestly it's not worth the drama
and the pain
of having them around
when all they really did was use you as a carpet
and played with your emotions
as if they were a yo-yo.

Dear Sour Girl

The thing about sour girl is that she was deadly honest with me, and that is something I will never forget about her. Thank you, I still love that about you, and realize just how hard it is to come by.

Tree of Life, a Rebirth.

Like a fruit that's been tossed around
bruised battered and torn
so does the ball
sit in your court.

I do hope one thing,
once all of the flesh decays off
and it's rotten to the core
that the seeds happen to fall
through a crack
of the cement floor
on the court of adversity
which we have built between ourselves.

To dig in,
something to crack the hardened surface
destroy the deserted streets
to grow and blossom,
bloom
a fruit giving tree
with sweet and sour pulp
to feast on and kill hunger
for both you and me.

These are the things I think about
when you come to mind now
it's not so bad you know
the taste of your smile
the stink of your skin
it all comes back suddenly
every time I think of you
freckles
blue eyes
blonde hair
gentle lips
telling me to "hither forth"
with one subtle
yet inviting
hand motion.

A kiss.