just like that, sneaks up on me, dead slumber in the basement for the night ahead and it’s not so much i hear her but i can feel her inches from my tired eyes, the stuccato pace of her breath before she giggles.
and just when i want to jump up and scare the bejeezus out of her, she leans forward and kisses me, softly, softly. she asks, as i crack open an eye, “daddy, daddy can i stay with you, here?”
forever and ever, forever and ever.
Monthly Archives: August 2007
and i woke up
when i woke up with her twat in my mouth i tasted all this copper like it had been bleeding,
“is your pussy bleeding?”
she laughed and ran snakes in my hair,
“silly, silly, boy. i bet you say that to all the girls…”
mechanical play
“goddamn this noise inside my head” -NIN, “the becoming”
wires and flesh, machine beast
mechanical heart strings, like strumming a guitar
finding the chord that opens the world, all hope
cold eye stare, hot steel, unfeeling pump, unthinking logic
depraved and loving, the circuitry of incalculable desire
the weakness of being, there’s nothing in being this way
absolutely nothing to the core, tin shell rust yearning, pining
to be cracked opened, to find a way to bleed
(and you want to crack her open to get to all the soft parts, to poke and prod, inside and out, find where it still hurts, to see what you can and cannot fix, to swap out this feeling for that, set this bone in its proper place and shatter expectations, to repair her and take what you need for yourself, swap spit, swap wounds, swap muscle for springs, gears for teeth, vampire mechanic asking for nothing, taking everything and giving it all in return, the blunt joy, the exquisite trauma, the mad laughter of sorrow, the beauty of the lie, something like love but more like mindless fucking, desperate repair, something at angles with everything you both know)
and for this moment, i will give in
i will give in for this one moment, i will give in to the pain and the sorrow and the cutting blinding light of this life, for this one moment i will allow myself to live outside of it all, i will walk outside of it and drench myself in this madness for once, i will breathe deep and hold it for as long as i can, i will give in because the pain deserves to be married to the joy for just this once, just for this one time only
there is no managing it
there is always damage control, only ways of exerting one disaster from happening over another. there are times i look at all this, all these people doing something, talking, dancing, casually passing one another, and i feel such disconnect, such amusement, i wonder, ‘where the fuck are you people coming from?’
where the fuck did you come from?
just that moment too soon, too late, when it’s unavoidable, burst of metal, exploding glass, tossed ten, twenty feet this way, completely out of your way, i was taken completely out of my way. as if you were the impending disaster to avoid, this car wreck made of glimmering shattered bits and sheared metal. of split lips and beaten bruised spines. of oil and gasoline and a smattering of blood. the elegant mosaic before pain sets in.
as if you were the victim and the driver, the passenger and the car.
you can be absolutely mad
and utterly someone else on the liquor.
it’ll make you lost when you already know where you are. it’ll make you say the things that you’ve never wanted to let loose from under your breath. it brings about the old pains and the throbbing and the desire. it makes you want to run into sprinklers in the middle of the night and run red lights until a bleary eyed morning. it can push you to a limit you never knew was there and suddenly find yourself at peace in the void. the liquor is like that. the liquor never lets you forget even when you do the next day.
it’s always only a bottle away.
and there the city
at large, this looming thing with its age and weight and a populace that goes off in all directions. it’s been years driving through the city at night. a slalom course of broken streets, desperate cabbies and workmen just beginning their night. people meandering, lazy drunk walks. every other block is being repaired, under construction. over constructed, the city steals the night, it grows over its people. i feel the urge to dodge and cut across town and say, ‘look here, this was where i was born’ or ‘look, that’s where i saw my first new york apartment: bathtub doubled as kitchen sink, communal bathroom but bring your own toilet paper please’, or say ‘look, this is where i fell in love with the night, this is where i learned to dance alone and not give a fuck about it’ . to see my home as it was, as it never was, as it will always be.
wild joy to be in the heart of this mad beast once again.