Naked With Sour Girl

When she used to grab my shoulders, digging her nails
into my skin at the rhythm of our fucking, it used to be
enough to almost make me explode inside her. Now it’s not
enough to just have her nail marks on my back, I want
her bite marks on my neck, I want bruises on my sides
from her thighs wrapping themselves hard around me
as I pound and choke her into ecstasy eternal, my balls
covered in our cum.

There was something about needles that always
perturbed me, something about the way they would
plunge into my veins and then made all that liquid
disappear. It just never seemed natural. Then
one day I had my first taste of an opiate, intravenously,
and my relationship with needles changed drastically.
I had never felt such exhilaration at the elation of that hard
steel needle, plunging through my being, penetrating me,
then releasing its payload into my vein. It still
makes me hard every time I think about Sour Girl, my heroin.

Now this old companion has grown, it has
made its way into the circles I keep and
without fail has taken the heads of
a few people I’ve escaped hell with. There is
something to be said about the ones who have cut off
their own strings and burnt their own bridges, but that
is another poem all together about floating corpses
in the milky waters of the river Alf.

Gin used to taste terrible, its strong flavor would
make the sides of my tongue burn, the place where
my jaw and skull met would ache, much the way Vodka
makes me feel today. Then it was distasteful, but today
it is what I usually like to order, and with a simple “Gin
and Tonic, please,” my youth slips down my throat.

Speedy drugs had never been something I wanted to try,
look at, or even get into. Time starts to change its flow as
one gets older though, the days get shorter, the change of the seasons
becomes more apparent and enunciated by the aching
muscles and bones. To keep up through the pain and fatigue,
now there will always be methamphetamine.

Sometimes it is easy to forget when I meet you,
sometimes I’m reminded after I pass you.
It is not so much that I’m afraid of you,
but of the experience I’ll be missing. I eat my drugs
and drink my gin, toasting to old friends I’ll never see again.

Musical Post? Musical Post.

Cover of Ben Folds "One Angry Dwarf and 2,000 Solemn Faces".
Sometimes mediocre attempts at popular music make me happy. It helps clear the mind.

Untitled

Lyrics to a song I'm working on. It is untitled, I will try to post a video of it once I have it down. It might be a while.

For Now:

there are some places between spaces

you shouldn’t cross

there are some creatures in the darkness

who ride the lust

calico vision vestibulary

you wear that coat

cos a harsh winters’ a coming

and it brings a razor of teeth

its got that beard of yours in sight

and it’s gonna win

time for your void inside the news cycle

no time for tears

the drugs they feed you seem to make it better

and while we’re here

go on forget about the way she mattered

one sorted kiss

lost inside diatribes

kept away from light

stinking of pesticide

and it’s gonna kill

She said ­— way he keeps on knocking on his coffin

might make me sick

I wish he’d stop going on with that rattle

won’t let me sleep

there’s someone out there digging six foot holes

right in the shade

of a cherry blossom tree

green pastures, happy green hills

of happiness, I sigh

as she lowers me in

Idiot

I really don't understand why I allow myself to feel anything at all
each and every emotion drags me through the murky depths of my mind
with turns leading to parts of my id unknown, places that I should have left alone
though it seems like I always drag parts along the paths taken
or scooping up pieces of reality to keep safely with me.

Postcards To Hitler (part 2)

Who was dancing in the middle of hell?
It was me, with the whore and swill.
Wish you coulda' been there,
it was full of fun, they had this fantastic
grilled tofu. It made the evening.

Hot Box Rental

There is a hologram that reminds of your golden splendor

another apparition of irresistible charm and woe,

so full of love and willing to commit itself to a life of rendering.

All in the name of passion, a life of unforeseen circumstances.

Postcards to Hitler

Correspondence with heaven, send a letter to see the devil

Spend a lifetime waiting for a response. We just didn't know,

there was no way to know. Everything fell into place when we feared

our own shadow as it made its way to hide behind us, we faced him

it was then that we drew, our conclusions became delusions

floating on the ether, high upon the clouds

riding the back of Pegasus, the winged muse of hope.

Tasting Through Burning

Future people have no idea what it was like

that compassion runs dry, tears fall onto dunes

spanning over the horizon, just where the sun lays

after we shot it down, while screaming enough is enough.

"We'd gone to have a piece of its burning flesh

eat it up and drink its blood, become one and like a phoenix

burn."

I think I might be going crazy, I think I might be right.

Today I start a strange trip, to say the least. This time the movie has a script where my face is the star, and the spot that has appeared is co-star.

It hurt, it stung, it was painful. I wretched and looked over, there they stood.

One of them came up to me later, talked about how the gov uses certain techniques to shut people up, and out. How some people need to be "taken care of."

I don't think it was a dream, the memory is too vivid. I was drunk, I think they were having fun. But how did they know about the pain on my cheek and the burning sensation?

One of them said to the other "don't tell him..." He'll know soon enough, replied the other. They walked away.

Was I targeted? Was it a paranoid dream? I don't have paranoid dreams. Why is the spot on my face growing? Why are the lymph nodes on my neck freaking out? Why are the lymph nodes on my neck appear to be moving something? Linearly they swell.

One of the most important questions is, why me?

Junkies

People dance on the streets,
streets covered in shit and piss,
but they still dance all the same.
As the little bit they share

of fun and debauchery
course through their vain,
meanwhile just on the other side
people starve and beg for food.

The happiest people on earth
all have a reason to look away,
otherwise the front they've built would fall,
they wouldn't be as happy.

To truly see the pitiful eyes of the addict
begging for more change,
will make anyones heart quiver with pity.
So instead of looking

deep into their darkened ocular orbs, sharing that pain,
making that human connection for just one second,
it is easier to reach into pockets
paying off the junkies to walk away.

Junkies know and use this to their advantage, beggars
making sure to look into their darkened
empty souls, asking them to make a donation
to the nation of addiction and injections.

People dance, dance the pain away.
Needles drop on the ground, junkies
shooting away the day, trying to be
the happiest people on earth.

©Who_Leo All Rights Reserved

©Who_Leo All Rights Reserved

All Images Are © By Who_Leo May Not Be Used Or Shared.

Empty Seats

Every where I go
there are empty chairs in front of me
and no matter what I do
there is nothing that can change that fact

unless I spend my time with some junkie
unless I spend my time with some whores
unless I spend my time with another husk
of the people I used to know.

It's not so easy, to breathe freely.
"A lifetime of fucking things up,
all summed up in one determined flash."
No one wants to sit across from that.

Who wants to share my pain?
Who wants to share in my joy?
Who wants to share in the way I see the world?
Who would want to sit across for me at dinner,

starring deep into my eyes
as I complain that the carrots and the peas
make me feel like I could scream
at the top of my lungs FREE PALESTINE!

No one, at least no one I've met yet.
Each night I sit alone,
consuming the necessary protein
to survive another day

so that I may sit across from another
empty chair, mocking my intelligence
integrity, sanity, and reminding me of my negligence
when it comes to make friends.

On a dream from a chance meeting

Had one with you in it. First off, I was at a hotel, expensive hotel, where my bag was stolen from the Sauna (?). When I was leaving, I noticed all of these people with weird things growing on them, so I headed straight for my bedroom to shower. The grand hall was enormous, mostly made of glass and crystal, women walked around in what appeared to be see through night gowns, but their faces... twisted and wretched. Lots of jewelry, and pretty things. This place was crowded. By the time I made it to my room, there were people there. It was strange, I only knew about half of them. I started to go into the shower when you walked in.

This got a little weird, because when you and I talked here, I wasn't in the hotel anymore, but riding on a car/bike. Something motorized. I was trying to get a hold of you to tell you about the party, but you were just screaming in my ear. I couldn't understand what you were saying. As this was going on, my bike headed towards a path full of hills and steep inclines, I had to hang up both of my phones in order to drive. Somehow I'm on the couch of the room again, and you are just wobbling around. Yes, wobbling, you were quite drunk. You kept saying how you were leaving, and that this shit was lame, that you had to see him. So I went to walk you out. The door led straight to the parking lot this time, and not the main hall. I was trying to talk to you, but you wouldn't listen, you'd just walk away faster every time I caught up.

Eventually you started to run, and I couldn't keep up at all. My knee, my weight... it all seemed to add up. Your drunk ass just kept running until someone in an orange Murcielago pulled you over. It was UN police. He asked for our ID, and all he had to do was just scan our fingers. This gave him all the info he needed. When he found out you were UN he relaxed, and commented on my tatts. I told him about them, and asked if he had any. At this point, he started to remove the hat he had on, and his head expanded greatly. First there was a butterfly and then a butterfly with glow sticks. Both lined up in the middle of his forehead like glowing antennae, which was now HUGE.

I wake up in my bedroom, you are nowhere to be seen, but I do have a piece of paper with the number of the room they gave you. 9005 or something. I try to get to your room cos we still haven't talked, but entering the elevator from the main hall, I fall into a movie (?) having to do with this disk looking thing that travels over and under water freely. It can do anything. So we head out and are following this rogue ship, but i don't want to follow no ship! We go underwater, and I can't breathe. Everything is just coming too fast while all I want to do is find you, and I can't keep the water from seeping up my nose into my lungs. I let go of the vehicle. I start to swim like a dolphin, towards this set of staircases that are going upwards. There is a light, I am drowning. I head towards it. It's a crystal door, heading into a hall. You are there, in crutches. One of your feet has been hurt. I'm trying to go as fast as I can, I don't want to miss talking to you. I swim as fast as I can, I attempt to scream, heading towards the light... And just as I'm about to reach the door to smash it and talk to you

I wake up.

So far...

Meeting a lot of interesting people in South America so far. It isn't half as bad as I expected. It has actually surprised me. Cannot wait to see more of the world.