( I am ….)

Tonight? Bludgeoned by a migraine and cold? Beaten by my body for careless care taken ? I guess that you could say that I appear to be naught but…

A long delightful series of systematic fuck up’s bound by tattooed flesh with a fast approaching used by date.? Human catnip for nut -jobs and wanna -be’s ?  Yes. I do believe that will be more than sufficient .That should just about cover the waterfront.

“Till there was you” as The Beatles once sang.


( “And what is it that you do exactly dear?” )

Writer,  chronic insomniac, bass player, loner, singer,useless romantic, war, compulsive reader, watcher, grunt, singer,amazon, point walker, confidant, battle-field, remnant, canvas, troubadour……

And I check my head and what is left of my heretic heart at what could all at once be my dick- packing- dooms door.I remove my hand from my neither regions ,lick my fingers and sigh. Try not to look at your picture and panting. Now lighter? I move faster this way. It is the speed that catches the light you see? The light that you first saw when you wanted me…..

I am not actually convinced that you are real…..

And what was it about me (me,me,me…..) that made you think that I would not be receptive to your magnificent gallant and swoon-bringing attention? How could I resist? Did you really think that I would not see so much of myself in you? Us, the narcissists delight. Our twisted glee in questioning the others mere existence because we were nothing but scars ,tattooed and driving fast cars….that we both get tarred by the same brush. I like your level of commitment to what ever it is that you are doing at any given time. I am a map as well you see. You are all right there before me. Forgive me if I am mistaken but on you, I could have sworn that I could see my destination and therefore,a safe harbor, clearly marked….

So, do ya wanna?

( unicorns,mythical things.)

You said that you would come and talk to me had you the gold dipped chance.I reclined into romantic reverie,your ghost arms around me ( “There is no safe word ” she purred into the phone almost malevolent with intent and was satisfied at the deep animal noise this statement elicited in reply….)  And then my hot pink neon heart got to beating again….

To save myself from further embarrassment due to undesired fawning  I shook myself off at your indifference. I respect the tenants of distance and personal space. I am good like that.

I duly logged your reasons,the reasons presented to me. Why? because gee! I dig you and I know that place,that creeping heavy place where the anthracite dark is so thick and spongy that it actually swallows light.

Baby? I own real estate there.

( “And besides” she thought, pondering his epic coolness while floating in her bubble bedecked dim lit 2am bath listening to Buddy Guy wailing his blue blues “Nobody can eat fifty eggs….”)

“He is like me” I thought as I stood naked, dripping wet and cynical in front of the condensation clad mirror in the rainroom critiquing all my faults yet again. My long dark hair sodden snakes curing to meet my tattoos,the drain lustily sucking out the liquid innards of the tub behind me…. “He crawls under the house like a dog and growls at even the friendliest hand..”  

( i am that hand / i am that dog)

( this is the shit that spoonfeed myself so i can actually suspend the bliss of believing that someone that beautiful would want me at all…..)

I shut it down. I don’t seek him. I try not to reach out to him over his disarray. No one likes to be crowded. I don’t.


The strength of desire can really fuck you up. The thought of the degenerate shit you would be doing to one another if given the chance,a hotel room and a week unchecked by reality? Oh man….

I shut down.

I will shut myself down.

I feel myself leaking languid towards him and I stop it. I construct a constraint of Hoover Dam proportions of strength around it before it floods all that I am.

If he wants me? (“Please,please,please” moans her panting lingerie clad ego like an old James Brown 45….) He can seek me out again. He started this….

I discipline my time. Carve it up into small easy to digest pieces. I get on with my mission.Stop playing with myself in the shower thinking about the way my mouth floods with saliva when I see his name on my screen. I stop making the 1st contact. I just stop.

I begin to undertake a reconstruction of massive proportions.

As I stood on stage the other night surrounded by the only men that are not completely terrified of me,the electricity spoke to me .It cut through the avalanche of noise that was pouring from the sound-system and went straight for all my mucous membranes. I hung off my mike-stand like an orgasm- soused -sonic- sailor.

Cunt throbbing,nipples chafing,tongue thick and vision blurred. It felt it like the best fuck I had never had. It poleaxed me and I was dumbstruck at how much I had missed it without even really being aware of it having fully left me in disgust due to my lack of reverence at its holy and not oft granted benediction .It entered my every cell and it told me what it wanted.

It re-informed me and in no uncertain terms what exactly it was that I had been built for and I hung my head in shame. Bred for more.More ink,more speed,more defiant deviations,more …. Bones built to demand attention and I had sheathed them in laziness and weight. Shame  born of my denial and lack of discipline. All the dead soldiers spat on me from heaven….to punish myself I went harder than I knew my untrained pathetically soft corpse could handle. I stomped like El toreador,my moth -bothered  red velvet cape pathetically proud. The balls of my feet squealed like unoiled brakes with the pain of brewing autumn hued bruises and spat spiteful sparks every time my Cuban heels hit the wooden floor.

My neck bellowed with every erratic twist.My knees dropped to themselves in an ignored prayer for mercy. I moved to thaw my apathy with pain. Bright pain to melt my mistakes of attrition to my very marrow.

The bitter cold and the car trip home solidified my methods as unsound but my motive and rational as steady and true as a surgeons hand.

I have finally slept. It has been weeks.

And tomorrow it begins again. I begin again. I will curse it until it stops ignoring my floundering first efforts. I will spit at it and plow through piles of  pain for its spare praise ,its approval. My form will return. Epson salt baths and agony for the first week.

Then I will wonder how I ever lived without it.

I would be lying if I said that one of the features on my shimmering mirage like lusted for fantasy fulfillment was not you. You at the show far from here and months from now. There like you said you would be, playing it cool…….

( as if you could be anything but ….)

And henceforth grounded in physical reality and soaring in my filthy imagination?

I return to form.