Angel

He had been here before; he had felt that feeling of overwhelming euphoria… Endorphins rushing, serotonin pushing, debilitating ecstasy—but never in this situation, never with someone he loved with such wonderment, always curious of her nature. Though curious as she was, she had never found herself in this situation before, not with someone like him, and not with what was in front of them… they swallow the pills, the music goes on, the door closes, and the lights dim.

There is always a connection with people sharing the same experience, only intensified by emotion, and quantity of consumption, they had plenty of both; in that situation constant contact is really the only physical need. As she would run her hands up and down his body he would think of the raw and seemingly prohibited scene he was in, it was too intense to be real, only in some dark carnal desire could he ever conceive something so appropriate.

Hours they spent, exploring each other, finding every overlooked piece inside and out. Their eyes usually closed, not needing to be open…this wasn’t a scene that could be seen, but rather a permanent moment in time that could only be once lived. In his mind as he would trace along her body, he would create a map of the new area, remembering every curve, careful not to miss even a spot—her responses to his touch would keep his attention, making him aware of her desire to be there. With that expressed desire she gave him, he felt invincible, he felt her love.

She would look into his eyes, that gaze was hauntingly beautiful; possessed by passion she was striking, with every move, every breath. She radiated this light, it was perfect and serene, he would look at her and see a divine angel—the heavenly grace he saw to have the compassion and care that had been lost long before. They had no perception of time, reality seemed like a trivial concept, but knowing they had only this one moment, the fought to keep it, knowing that it wouldn’t always be like this.

I'll be Suzy

It had begun to wane into that odd transitional state; the pain hadn’t been stinging like it did days prior. The fear of uncertainty wasn’t looming over his head, creating the overcast it was designed to do.

The ash tray sat secured next to the bed; the reminisce of sleepless nights, and evidence of eventual cancer strewn about. He laid there secured in the thoughts, that what seemed like hours before threatened him with eventual destruction. He laughed at this ridiculous assumption. His strength transcended the grasp of the intangible.

Grabbing the pack that was on the bed next to him, he pulls out yet another cigarette; why had he given up drinking, there was much more comfort that came from the rye fields of Virginia, than the tobacco plantations in the Carolinas. Whatever each had done their job in subduing his anguish, if only for the moments they rested in his grasp.

His phone rang, time and time again… likely another friend going through their rounds to check on him. It felt like pity more than genuine concern; he couldn’t imagine being in their position. They wanted their friend back, the guy that seemed to epitomize joy and curiosity. Now he basked in his cynicism and certainty. This is who he really was, this is who he had always been, he had just never really let anyone in on this secret.

The Church

Throughout the night they had shared one of the most intimate experiences either one had ever had, but for so many different reasons. He had always wanted to share this with her, he wanted her to see the world from his point view, but he would never force it on her. That she wanted to be there just as much, made all the difference. She had always been curious, what did it feel like, what was it like? Was it a different world? Was there no distinction between the real and the surreal?

The night started off difficult enough, now they were once again in each other’s arms, it had been too long, and it felt like neither had ever leave. He looks her in the eye and asks, “can I take you somewhere?” She smiles, and stares at him, happy enough to be there in that moment with him, nothing else really registering. “Are you ok to drive?” she asks, knowing that she isn’t at all, so assuming he would be the same. “No I’m fine, trust me, I just want to show you something.”

They put their coats on and head out to the cold, it was late, or early depending on how you saw it. The light from the sun was slowly starting to break over the eastern horizon as they drove down the road, she recognized it as the way to go to the lake, was this what he wanted show her? Granted it’s a lovely view but they had been out here many times before. He keeps driving and passes the lake, coming to an area with an open plain straight ahead, she had never been out this far. He pulls off the word and heads into the woods. His car wasn’t made for off road traveling, but still he somehow managed to make it work. They drove for a while, but she hadn’t noticed, the sun was growing brighter, and she could see it poke through the foot of the trees, slowly they started making their way into their own private open field. He pulls off to the side of the road and grabs her hand, “we’re here,” he says. She smiles, not knowing what to do, and watches him get out of the car. He walks around the back, buttoning up his coat and thrusting his hands into his pockets, she opens the door just enough to hear him, “this used to be one big lake, it’s been dry for a very long time, but all these rocks are part of the old riverbed.” She couldn’t understand the history lesson; she was more captivated by the single tree standing in the field… “I’m cold,” she turns and says to him, “I think I’m going to wait here.” “Suit yourself, darling. I’m going to go explore a bit.” She closes the door and sees him run off, just as the sun is starting to break, within that moment she loses sight of him. He sprints across the open field careful to jump from rock to rock, making his way quickly to the lone tree. Reaching it, he surveys the area, trying to understand why it’s the only thing to grow… Giving up, he only wants to be close to it, so he begins to climb through its limbs and branches.

After being what felt like forever without him, she gets out of the car, trying to see if she can spot him now. He’s gone, and she can’t find him. She starts to carefully walk in the direction she saw him dart into.

“Hello?” She says out loud. He can see her from the tree, but waits for her to see him first. “Hello?!?” She says again. She finds a larger rock and stops on it, hoping that he hadn’t left. She tries again, “Hello?!?”
He sees her, and she’s the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, how could he not reply sooner, “Echo,” he calls out.
“Charlie?” She replies. “Where are you I can’t see you.”
“I’m here, in the embrace of my leafy friend.”
“I still can’t see you…” She says starting to get a little sad.
“Oh but I guarantee you, I’m right here, I promise.”
“It’s beautiful,” she says as she looks to the sun starting to break over the top of the treeline.
“It sure is,” he replies as he stares at her.
“I don’t ever want to leave here, I don’t ever want leave now, can’t we stay here?”
“Stay here? And do what?”
“Be.”
He smiles inside and out, she gave him that rush of elation that nothing synthetic or real could really compare to, it was in itself something so perfectly serene and indelible. He yells back, “Yeah, we can, and we can erect a church to that testament.”
“Right, we can place between my rock and your tree… I don’t ever want to leave this rock.”
“And what would we call this church?”
“I don’t know…What do you think?”
“How about the Church of Charlie and Echo…”

My last...

WTF kind of rant, at least for the time being...

I can understand my two major flaws, arrogance, and I guess anger is the best way to explain it, (I don't go around hitting people, nor do I yell, but it's easy to piss me off, at least easier than a lot.) I don't lie nor mislead nearly as much as I used to so I don't count that as a "top," I would, but I worked pretty hard to get to this point, and I'm going to give myself some credit for that one... As far as the arrogance goes, I see it as reaffirmed confidence, I guess I'm just too confident in myself when it comes to practically everything so it falls in that arrogance category. Why am I listing these off? Well it's simple because aside from the aforementioned flaws, I think I'm one hell of a person. I have character that's quite frankly incomparable, (see that's what I'm saying about the confidence that gets seen as arrogance, I'm just confident of these facts.) I'm creative, meaning I can do more than just doodle, a hell of a lot more. I'm learned and quite intelligent, in more fields than most... I feel like instead of having an "A" understanding in one or two areas I have at the very least a "B" understanding of at least a dozen different areas. I'm fit... Yeah I'm sure you would look at me and call me chubby, which I'm not denying I got fat on me, but I have a hell of a lot more muscle than most would expect, I have endurance and stamina for days, and though not as well as it used to be for my size especially I got some incredible agility. I have a solid sense of humor, and I'll know how to diffuse 9/10 of the negative situations I'll be in. I've been told by every partner I had that I know what I'm doing, and that what I have to work with is often more than they expect, for the better I can only assume... Why am I saying all of this? Well quite frankly because I'm at that point of confusion in not being able to understand why I get passed over... Should I apologize for not treating women like shit? Don't get me wrong, I'm not always Humphrey Bogart, but I will make any girl I'm with feel like a princess more times than not.

I guess I need to work on becoming a skinny white boy who objectifies women, and treats them like pieces of meat, that seems to be what the girls are searching for... God damn it, you would think those unintelligent pricks would have been weeded out by now, I don't know how many complaints I've heard on their lack of ability to satisfy their partners emotionally and physically, you think women would have chosen a different mate, but no, they hook up with these ass' inevitably get pregnant, inevitably get left with the kid, and they ask, "why me?" Well it would be different, had you gone for the guy that wanted to see you succeed just as much as they want to succeed, someone like... I don't know, me? I just hate being in those positions to say, "I told you so," but I'm put there what feels like constantly.

I would apologize for the rant, but quite frankly, no reads these except for maybe two people, and spammers... So essentially, I could care less right now.

Only...

Because I've broken my rule for this blog a few times within the last month already but... I feel like I'm becoming part of a rare breed that believes if you put it online it's public, meaning, if you don't want people to see something seemingly private GET A JOURNAL, like one you write in with pen on paper... otherwise don't be surprised that people will still be redirected to you anyhow.

The Knife

It had been a little more than a month since she had left, it had been nearly three since he had felt her skin bush against his fingers, and it had been two since he had decided to swear off the embrace of women so as to find a deeper connection. The night was cold, Fall was giving way to Winter, earlier than it should, and the layers that he wore seemed to be too little for the night. It may be due to the fact that it was only days before Halloween, a fact no one cared about the gals and ghouls were out in full force, he even looking like a zombie.

He fancied himself a DJ, and though this isn’t something he would recognize in himself immediately and without some kind of external push, it was how he made his living. Instead of going out and working, he opted to go to the bar with group of acquaintances, they might as well been strangers. Feeling like a wallflower in a crowded room he had very few options, either he could continue sitting there in awkward silence, watching the girls fawn over the same guys, he could do the safer thing and call it an early night, or he could contemplate the possibilities at the very least over a drink and a cigarette. He walks over to the bar, the bartender recognizing what kind of night he was having taken some amount of pity on him and passed him his usual, a whiskey neat, on the house. He slams his drink and heads outside to suck down what would hopefully be a momentary stress relief.

He stands outside under the neon glow, the paint on his face slowly starting to peel and run; with each passing second he’s beginning to feel more and more foolish. “What the hell am I doing here? Why am I staying around, this isn’t any place for me…” He kept berating himself, acting as his own worst critic, never allowing a moment to go by where he wouldn’t make himself think of her… It’s funny how things don’t work out sometimes, then again it’s funny how they do—as he’s beginning to turn and walk away, he gets stopped by someone who just walked out the door, they turn to him and say “You have a smoke I can bum?” He looks inquisitively at first, making sure that it was indeed him they were talking too; he shakes the feeling and pulls out his pack. It’s serendipitous how “smoker’s karma,” can work out sometime, it turns out the guy who asks him for a cigarette was the DJ at the bar that night. Instead of going home he begins to talk shop with a fellow professional, trading lingo and being able to connect with someone other than the woman serving him drinks.

“You know man, I could use a break, you sound like you know what’s up, let’s make a deal, I’ll get you a few drinks, and what do you say to keeping this party going for a few, well I take a breather?”

He thinks about, but really it only takes a second, “You know… it’s been awhile since I did it for the fun of it… What the hell? You got yourself a deal, just as long as I get to play my music.”

“Man, you keep the set bumpin, any way you want, feel the vibe and keep those asses shaking on the dance floor, that’s all I ask.”

He walks back inside, it really had been awhile that he was standing behind a legitimate table set-up, and not some series of tape decks… He just kept getting worried, “What if I forget how to spin? What if I no one likes what I play?” And then it clicks… “Who the fuck cares? Either way I’m dressed as a Zombie!” There’s something freeing about being… not necessarily a zombie, but someone other than yourself. He looks through the vinyl’s that are there, he takes out his iPod, and he goes to work. Mixing music everyone could love, but had never heard, he lived for that, he lived for that moment where he felt like in his own little world, in his own private surroundings he could be Prometheus bringing light to man, it was a sense of exhilaration that was only made better by the synthetic serotonin pumping through him at that moment. To live like a rockstar for one moment, it’s enough to develop an addiction.

After a few songs, and the revitalization of a once barren dance floor, reluctantly he hands the reigns back to his thankful and rather impressed friend, “You didn’t tell me I was going to have to follow that,” the DJ says jokingly. He takes a deep breath as he tries to make it through the crowd, everyone still dancing, and he walks to the bar to get a much deserved drink. As he reaches the bar there only seems to be room towards the end where a pair of girls were sitting, a redhead, and blonde; not thinking of the girls but rather an expedited drink he walks down by them and takes a seat. As he sits down he takes off his hat wipes his face, and lets out a relieved exhale. He can hear the girls next to him both are going back and for saying, “No you ask him…” The blonde replies “No You!.” He gives a look in their direction, smiles and nods, in some odd way they get flustered and turn back to one another. A few minutes pass before the redhead reaches over and taps him on the shoulder, “were you the one just playing music a few minutes ago?” After three years as a DJ, after playing both good shows, and lousy shows someone actually is asking him the question that he had played through his mind thousands of times over—he replies, “yeah… I was taking over for a friend, but I had a few in there.” The two girls trade a glance, and a big smile, “you were brilliant, amazing really,” the blonde says, “We’ve been to many clubs and bars here in the States, and many from around the world, but we’ve never heard the music you were playing, nor heard it played…” her friend interrupts, “nor played quite like that… Can we buy you a drink? What are you drinking?” First of all it would be any man’s dream to have this type of attention from one girl let alone two; on top of that they were gorgeous. His scale had his last girlfriend at an easy 10, the blonde was at least 13 and the redhead was a 15… There was no way he could have ever accounted for something like this. So of course the only answer to “can we buy you a drink?” is undoubtedly yes.

Several drinks later, and through some overt flirtatious banter, the blonde one stands up and excuses herself to the bathroom. Normally being left alone with a girl wouldn’t be too much of a problem for him, he’s good with conversation, he can make anyone laugh and keep them entertained, but these girls were solar eclipse attractive, looking directly at them for anything longer than a second was just unnatural. After a few minutes of waiting for the second girl the redhead reaches over, and begins to play along the inside of his thigh… Things just got interesting. He looks at her, she leans over and whispers into his ear, “me and my friend have a list… things we need to…do, before we die, and a Latin man is on it.” The god’s were too kind, out of all the bars in all the world these two just so happened to have walk into his. The blonde comes back, and her friend gives her a reassuring look, she too comes over to him, and begins to rub the inside of his other leg; she leans over and in his other ear she whispers, “should we take this somewhere else?” The three of them stand up, and the girls lead him out of the bar and up the stairs to the hotel room they were staying in. There… well let’s just say they didn’t play twister.

All in full frenzy, sweaty, satisfied reeling from the satisfaction of feeding the pure carnal needs and desires they all had, they gather their things and dress trying to make last call, to close their tabs, and hopefully get one last drink in. They all have one more, and the girls follow him out the bar to share a cigarette, both standing arm and arm with him, in that moment he had to look like a pimp, and not in the contemporary context of him being a “true playa,” rather literally looking like a pimp, with two women on his arms. From a far you could hear the bells in all the bars ringing out closing times, and the subsequent drinkers piling out of the bars making all kinds of ruckus. A group of guys started to draw near, as they started to come closer to the three, the girls started to place some distance between them and him. The group walks up to the three, and the girls greet these three tall and relatively attractive guys, at the very least he thought them to be more attractive than himself. After the formal introductions, he comes to find out that the two girls were traveling with the three gentleman… all of which had somehow dated at one point or another in the past… An immediate alarm went off in his head, he had to get out of there, not soon, but then and there, and in the least noticeable way possible. He turns to the guys, and says nice meeting you, and then to the girls he thanks them for the drinks—the blonde looks at him sad to see him go, so she asks if he’s ok to get who, or if he rather a ride, since they do have their own car, not wanting to look rude of course he accepts. He gives the redhead a hug and a peck on the cheek again thanking him, he shakes the guys’ hands and him and the blonde walk off into the night.

Werewolf

Consumed by the inner torment that haunted his existence, Michael walked as if there were a demon pulling at his very core. Day by day the darkness would consume his heart, turning him into something that he had no way to fight against; it was a cancer that he could not rid himself of.

He couldn’t recognize anything in himself aside from the pain and anger, the fear and the loneliness, all of which seemed to have a permanent hold. How had he come to this point? How had he been victim to such a cruel joke? He left himself open and vulnerable, in allowing himself to entrust any and every person that would give him the attention he craved so much. Unfortunately as they would leave him, they would take a piece of him with them, leaving a void that would grow with each day and the opportunity for something to come and fill it.

It became a fear of his, that which he feared would be the only thing that could inevitably come in and permanently fill that void; it was only for so long that he could fight it off—he was weak to begin with, and his only strength would often come as a byproduct in trying to dawn that façade for those who had indeed given him his desired time. Now that was gone, he was having to learn how to be strong for himself, unfortunately he was no black magic wielder, he had nothing special within to keep pushing through. Giving up, letting go, not only of the hope of things changing, but everything in whole was becoming an increasingly attractive thought. It was more difficult for him to make this decision than to get back on that horse, that was what was expected, complete fall into the embracing darkness was new, and as his plan of action had never worked to begin with, he was ready to try something new.

Home

How could I ever put into words the way I feel? How could I ever, the representation of chemicals rushing through the mind, the body, and the soul… it’s overpowering and quite frankly daunting. Words just never seem to be able to do justice to the feelings themselves. I’ve never felt more comfortable, more loved, more cared for, than when I was with you. But the question which ensues: was I in love with you, or was I in love with what essentially you represented to me? Is there a distinction between the two, and if there is, does that latter make the former any less important?

There is something to be said, that I can’t help but look back and smile, ah, the great fortune of reminiscence. I do confess, though I may be past a point of sorrow and despair, I can’t help but wanting to make plans, to have something to look forward to, not just in general but with you… Am I going to do that? Not at all, but it’s the last of the entirety, I just can’t seem to shake. I understand quite well that I wasn’t yours, and you weren’t mine, but I WAS yours and you did feel like mine, so even in the slightest coming to grips with that changing for the both of us is likely the most unsettling of all the feelings.

I often have to remind myself how temporary everything in this phase of my life is supposed to be… the pain, the happiness, the anger, the sorrow, the joy… it’s all fleeting from moment to moment, and often going in between polar opposites. As I hide myself from the world on this day, I know that the next may bring something new, something different, the littlest of things that can change it all around. We’ll grow old, and we’ll look back at the foolishness of it all, how we fit the roles we were supposed to so perfectly, and it’s hopefully at that time we can open our eyes from recalling those memories to see the eyes and smile of our truer love, that love that feels like home, as long as we’re with them.

Pursuit

After years with the same person, or rather people, I still feel like I’m trying to understand who they are… essentially I’m still trying to meet them. As with most things in my life I tend to give to much credit to others, hoping their actions and intent are actually something deeper and maybe more profound… Oh how wrong I am. One in particular, she was something short of spectacular, emphasis on the past tense; I was blinded to the faults, as should be the case, but it was the faults that drove us apart, as did my own, and who knows maybe neither one of us actually did anything that could be considered as actual work on the self. I can be very difficult to be around, let alone be with, I know this, others know this of me, but I will always ensure a good time, I will always give you a memory, and furthermore a story.

I’m slowly beginning to understand that complex I have with having my “story” precede myself… I belittle where I’ve been, and what I’ve done, and I do this because this is normal to me, this is how to live, there is no other way, accept you have the here and now, and that’s all that you will ever be guaranteed. We can’t change the past, and planning for the future seems more reckless than not planning for anything at all. I’ve been a person to never plan a thing, I play everything as it’s dealt, and I couldn’t be happier with the overall circumstance of my existence. I’m not a rich man by conventional standards, but I have more locked away in my heart and in my mind that all the money in the world wouldn’t be able to replicate. It’s for these reasons I can now understand that story, and the idiosyncrasies that seem to define me. Yeah everyone is different, and no one is ever going to be the same as those around them, but I don’t even know if I come from any specific mold.

I’ve looked so hard for the route I need to take to find my own happiness, I’ve never really thought that looking for the route is pointless, I need only to keep walking, one foot in front of the next, for I am here, I’m on a pursuit of happiness already, there’s no need for me to look, it’s what I’m doing already.

Bitterness in Truth

I don’t mean to close the door
But for the record my heart is sore...
You blew through me like bullet holes
Left staind on my sheets and stains...
On my soul
You left me broke down beggin for change
Had to catch a ride with a man who’s deranged

In the mirror the man and I look too much alike.