likewise...iv that stinging - cringe burning pain. shrapnel poured from my penis. that hollow toilet ring. striking back at you in the green light. count the cocky steps scamper across the cement floor, over brothers. that ring around the cheeks. cash couldn't free this up, not the blockage the solid cold will do to the pipes. a good anti-freeze is necessary, but there is none of that in this tin can. i'm just waiting for the oven. til then this waste bucket will give me ten minutes. if hell were a freezer i must be the caviar. all the meat goes to rot in here. no salt of the earth. i always ate my meat fresh, but i can see some people in here are used to the snap frozen variety. there no movement, not even for the bowels. i want to shit. i need to shit. this fucking cold waste liner of a toilet will never let me shit. even if the screw wasn't gonna stand on my balls in a few minutes. i still wouldn't be able to shit. i must bring a towel next time. or better yet a hair dryer, maybe then i would be able to drown myself.

and it was like i was drowning. in the sweat and the blood, i failed to notice the perspiration on the mirrors. the sun may have sunk into the ocean, devoured by all means the earth may have, for all my knowledge. yet the danger, in the heat, the wave of uncertainty, sunk not a degree. it all seems so very overwhelming. the world, the everything, truth and the universe, maybe my place in it. i just wanted to hold your hand. i just wanted to hold your hand. drive into that final night and never know such dark places ever again. the sun's down going. i guess sometime i had to come off down the mountain. really, my mind could not have been that far behind. but it was on horseback, and one has to remember that horses need water. otherwise they might die in the heat. couldn't leave that metaphor running wild out there. so i parked the truck in a tree and decided to walk.

take a gander down at the local fish markets and look into those sunken eyes. when did they ever find the time to swallow up their last gulp of air and choke. life reflected from those glassy pits, they just lack that extraneous movement, flapping and flipping of a dead fish. so little between the dead and the dying. they don't want to think about it - why that would be just too god damn destructive. that little world of men has to have the trade off of time for time in lieu. i part my legs now so i can fuck you right up the clacker later, and you will be waiting for it, expecting it. gives you something to live for. i can't stop the biting. the constant gnawing of nail and skin. an unsubstantiated claim to my own body. i gotta eat myself and have that for myself. that's it with the fish, always looking forward, no time to swim backwards. no fingers to gnash and an appetite only for another. that's why there eyes always have death and life as one reflection. suck it right out of the skulls like it was some tinned jelly. you kill a man and look into his eyes. tell me then that you saw life flicker before you, tell me then you saw in his eyes the moment he died. you didn't see shit. he was already dead, and know you know. all the men in here know that much.

picked some cherries on the way home. fell asleep in the sand and dreamt about a cliff with no edge. nude washed and cheerful in a bed somewhere near Tilly Willy. I had never been so turned on in my life. i couldn't find release. it was like gripping hard caramel fudge slowly melting in a morning sun that spilt in from the paned window. the numbness made me sleepy and i though i heard a tambourine in the distance. that fucking saucepan bruised my head and the tambourine took me dancing downtown.

Labels: shortstory

  ¶ 5:18 pm