Empty Tears

At times, I use the words that imply that I'm crying actual tears over something... this is very misleading and I apologize for that. Yes, I have cried my heart out before and shed so many tears I thought my body would wither away... but I haven't shed one single tear in quite some time. It's gotten to the point where I am desperate to cry... to feel that release as the tears roll down my cheeks and how my lungs would quiver in between breathes. They just won't come... no matter how hard I've tried. Over the past few months, I've taken drastic steps to make this happen... and the end result is always the same, nothing. I've watched all of my favorite tear-jerk-er movies, given into the voices and agreed how pathetic I truly am, inflicted physical pain such as burning or cutting, listening to sappy music, thinking and talking about the things that always make me weep like an infant... they just won't come, no matter how hard I try. Last night I even dusted off my guitar and played for the first time in several years and still nothing... which is odd considering I stopped playing because the emotions were too powerful and confusing and I would weep endlessly. I lay in bed every night, begging for God to kill me and take me away from here... feeling so sorry for myself that the tears should flow easily, but they won't. My therapist believes this is because I have disassociated myself too much... driven into a severe state of isolation as a means of self-preservation. Simply put, I'm to withdrawn to cry... too depressed, too separated from reality. I still feel other emotions and vibrations at times, brief moments of excitement, lust, shame, guilt, remorse, etc... so this makes it even more confusing for me. I really wish it would happen... I feel like I need it more than words can possibly describe. Like part of me is missing, a huge gaping hole in the chest that could only be filled with the tears of sorrow bursting from my soul. It may sound stupid and make me appear even more pathetic than usual, if that's even possible... but I wish I could cry. More than anything... the feeling of release and closure. That distinctive piece of humanity.

Beauty And The Beast

I've spent a lot of time lately thinking about my lover and the affair we shared so intensely and deeply, all those years ago... rejected for years, she has sat in a dusty corner. Untouched and untamed. I miss the way my fingertips danced along her neck and how my thumb pressed firmly against her spine... my other hand slapping gently against her delicate curves in rhythm as our souls spiraled into endless ecstasy. The way she sang and echoed sweet sounds in the rooms... as my fingertips tickled and tugged her heart strings. Feelings I've never felt since, nor do I dare I shall ever feel again... even in my limited understanding of emotions and vibrations, I knew this must be love. The days of love now gone, and the sorrow that I felt as I locked her out off my life... living life through distant memories.We'd make love for hours on end, until we body shook in weariness and utter fatigue... never once did she shudder away, but stayed faithfully in the moment. Those precious moments ended as I clutched my chest and ripped my heart out... the intensity had grown too strong and I couldn't bear the emotions stirring inside. I needed to hide and run away from the only love I've ever known... now aging in my room, filled with regret I weep. My lost love, my inability to continue those timeless moments... stripped away by the very hand that i trusted most. They say it was for the best, that all things happen for a reason... we grow and strengthen over time. I snarl at those words of fools... knowing love once and to never know it again is a hell endless in torment. Even though time is cruel and we can never go back and undo those moments we regret... time has a funny way of turning itself around and changing hearts. I saw her today and without word I approached her and took her gently into my arms and warming embrace. I needed to cry and release these unknown and complicated emotions... I laid my head softly against her cool, tender, body and shivered in fear. All those things I wanted to feel again were now foreign and distanced... we couldn't go back, but we could remember. On looking eyes wouldn't see the sorrow and regret, nor the love we once shared... it would look commonplace to those separate from this experience. She is without name, and without face... just pressed wood and hand framed body. To others just an old, worn guitar... but to me, the love of my life. Those passionate webbings once spun, now only exist in memory and time... never to felt again.

Project: Humanity

The idea of starting this photo project has been torturous... so many opinions, consequences, and risks. I decided today to just jump in and see what happens. You can witness the horror for yourself, with the supplied link below. It's not for vanity. It's not for people to criticize or compliment. It's for the part of me that is missing... the sheltered and beaten child inside that wants to be free. This project is for me. Simply me. Already I feel the panic setting in... but in a way, this first step feels liberating. Thank you, to all of my readers, for your support and understanding throughout the years. Day 1 has begun... there's no turning back now.

My Flickr Photostream

Overfill, Overfire

How is the view... down here, at the bottom of my hole? The cat never lies, and he's content in knowing there's many more doors to be opened... our fingers live in the earth, as tills we turn like worms, earth to earth. Sacrifice. Diana has suggested taking all of the pieces out of the box, spreading them across the the floor for inspection and dissection... while Richard laughs at the destined frustration. Come down and lay next to me while we ogle at pieces in sight... the fondling hasn't begun, so there's no need for lubrication. The choir demands we make clear the context of Lubrication... there are three types herein, your efforts will still be needed. Social Lubricant, is any substance that releases your natural inhibitions: drugs, alcohol, or ritual. Sexual Lubricant, is the fluid used to decrease the irritating effects of too much friction: tears, bile, or money. Finally, Life Lubricant, is the substance acquired from years of anguish and suffering: blood, feces, or vomit. Let not your glasses become clouded... return your view to the pieces, as they wiggle and scamper in delight.

The ones with the most vigor would be the choir, several pieces uneven in agreement . Then there are Diana and Richard, two entirely different people that live on the outside, looking in. There are memories and deeds, scattered with care... feeding each other with doubt and flesh. Maria has a corner of her own, built out of the compounding interest of my soul. Stuffed animals running with scissors and Jesus bowing his head in shame. A chair named virginity, cold with sweat and vinyl... they won't come out until we stop crying. Must. Stop. Matted hair and knotted bed sheets... they belong together in a sense, but separated in time. Broken fingernails stuck in the concrete and razor blades gone on holiday in the Swiss Alps. Layers of lies and masks piled on trash bags of sun rotted flesh.... the pupils dilate and saliva thickens in anticipation. Blood. So much blood. There's mine, yours, hers, his, and theirs... I know the scent and taste of each, and the color of which it flowed. There's my screams and the one's that silence them... with a hidden jar used in secret for lubrication. Teeth. The teeth that bite, the ones that gnash, and the broken ones... a mixture of mouths, some more even then the others. Broken fingers and guitar strings that suspend the life once known. The snake, the desert, and the scampering of shadows and dirt, not from earth, as a pillow. And then there's Serah Weaver, dancing in the darkness by herself.

Creative Juices

The inspirations have waned... leaving me limp in vigor and sensation. The voracity grows to rend open my fleshed vessel... your consumption and my dysfunction, reigniting the embers within. I have fattened myself on the paper shredded hearts... the cartooned images melt under the folds of my tongue. Exit light... enter life. I shiver as I feel you coming closer... your fingers tingling up my spine as my saliva thickens. With blackened eyes, I enter your world once more... Ouija communications no longer needed, once you slide inside me. My mind, your favorite fuck, shifts with each impulse... milky satisfaction, the days linger without end. Shimmering symbols and puzzle pieces take shape once more... the questions answered, in this world it's absolute. In the final thrust, there is no more nothingness... every void is filled at climax. You'll pull out slowly, as my eyes flicker and mild convulsions seed the sorrow... I am but a visitor and the gates are starting to close. Naked and exposed, my insides are out and my outside are in... I feel no remorse for the feasting, only anticipation for the next embrace. All will fade away within hours, as I travel down the astral highway... the puzzles undone, the mysteries re-web themselves in silhouettes of time. Trading pieces of myself, two days at a time, in exchange for your strychnine kisses... bathing anew in creative juices.

Sweeping Doorways

It occurred to me today, that perhaps sometimes people are often confused in these things I am writing about... perhaps not the message, but the intentions or laced words. So, I wanted to take a moment tonight to make somethings very clear.

Yes, at times, I can be extremely vulgar, provocative, cruel and even violent... I am not apologizing for this, not at all. Sometimes I can be very offensive... this isn't going to change. My intentions are to illustrate a point or deliver a message... above all I am passionate, but passion doesn't mean just love and rose petals. I speak lightly at times about my severe drug abuse history, the abuse I have issued and received and sometimes in the manner in which I have disrespected women in the past. Do not be mislead here... these are painted images, not necessarily how I feel about things. For example, yes in all honesty, I am a drug addict and I always will be and quite often I abuse my medications that I have been given for my physical or mental ailments... I don't condone such behavior, it's not a good thing. But I'm not going to sit here and lie about the truth either... the truth is I was a junkie and in many ways, I still am. Yes, I treated women as sexual objects and disrespected more than a few in my life.... but this is intolerable behavior! I have the utmost respect towards women... now that I have grown out of my childish ways. Women should be treated as a gift and our second half to ourselves... not nameless conquests and slaves. As for the violence, well okay, that's a bit of an issue. I am not a violent person in actions... I don't even like to be touched by family members, so I am not about to go out and start a carnal feast. However, I do have some severe issues with violent thoughts and like anyone else, I need to control my anger so those tendencies don't have a chance to arise. Again, I am not saying it's a good thing... but it's a real part of me and I consider myself to be an honest person. So, if you are offended or have been in the past... what can I truly say? I will not say I am sorry for my words or my thoughts, but I will say I am sorry you may not have quite understood the message or my intentions, thus becoming hurt. I am not here to hurt people's feelings, but at the same time I need to be true and real about myself... this can never change. At the same time, I am not writing this message tonight to portray myself as a good person... I am not. In my eyes, I am a monster that has committed some unforgivable actions and many have suffered from the chaos I have wrought. So, if you must hate me, hate me for my actions, judge me for my crimes, but be sure you understand why you feel as such. My words are a message, to you the audience but also for myself. With clarity, comes wisdom... embrace that, and look deeper into the well.

The Swallowed Soul

Several times now, I have mentioned something briefly and stated, "That's a story for another time.". I can't recall exactly how many times I've said this... whether they were about Serah Weaver, shooting the family dog, being chased by a UFO or selling my soul to Satan. I do however, remember two occasions... tonight, I will keep true to my word and share one of those stories. Whether or not you believe it to be true is entirely up to you... I quite often wonder how much of my life could possibly be true and I was there. So, tonight's tale is about... selling my soul to Satan.

After dropping out of college to sell drugs full-time, then later using full-time, I enrolled in a technical college to pursue the life of a mechanic. In one of my classes, there was this stunningly, beyond beautiful woman named Maria... I watched her walk in and out of my life everyday. I was around 19 or 20 at the time and I will be completely honest with you... attraction, affection and love are directly linked to the penis of a young man. I don't care who they are or how sensitive they appear or how much they listen... it's about sex and physical appearance. I am not agreeing with this behavior, but it is the hard, cold truth. If I had to issue an approximate age that men actually become men, instead of lust driven assholes, I would say around 28-30 yrs of age... of course, there are some that never grow out of it and remain boys forever. Anyway, my attraction and desire for Maria grew stronger and stronger as time went on. I was married at the time, with 2 cats, a dog, 2.5 children and owned a home... having an affair or even speaking with this woman wasn't something I was very eager to pursue. Instead, I watched and dreamt of her everyday in class. One day, I started to pray to Satan during these times of watching her... my exact words are long forgotten, but it was along the lines of, "Satan, I would offer my soul to you, to be with Maria... even if it was for just one night.". These "prayers" or pleas continued for the rest of the semester... sometimes not just in class, but also at home while mixing drugs and witchcraft. The semester ended and we parted ways... never once did she even notice me or did I utter one word to her. Shortly after finishing college, my now ex-wife decided to exchange her morals as a devout Muslim wife for the life of becoming an online dominatrix and porn queen. The marriage fell apart and we separated, the children went to live with their biological father's, the cat's ran away and I shot the family dog. Calm down, it was a mercy killing... he was terribly ill with a gangrenous infection. After she got her business up and running, I returned to my house to live by myself. It had been at least 2 years since I had seen Maria, but never once had her image left my mind. One night, there was a knock at my front door... it was my uncle "Pony". He greeted me with a smile and said, "Nephew, my nephew, I brought you a present!". Out of the shadows, of the front doorway, stepped out... you guessed it, Maria. I laughed and asked him, "What the fuck are you talking about?". He told me he was at the bar downtown, met this girl and found out she had nowhere to live. He told her, "My nephew has a house and he'd love to have you move in!". I had never told anyone about Maria, so things started to feel a little peculiar. I agreed to allow her and her two young boys move in the next day and my uncle and Maria left for the night... leaving me to wonder what was happening. The next day, she walked over to my house and I took her to go pick up her kids from their grand-parents house, as well as a new cat. I had to be at work in a few hours, so we sat down and watched a movie... Maria and I on the couch and the two little boys laying on the floor in front of us. She started to make sexual advances towards me... snuggling close and rubbing my inner thigh. I put my arm around her and began kissing her... things quickly became even more so heated between us. She told me, "I have to have you... I need you." in a soft whisper in my ear followed by a few nibbles. I told her in respond, "When I get home from work, I will have you.". So I went to work... my mind was completely blown. Do the math here folks... for a whole semester this woman didn't even know I existed, she was gorgeous beyond words and she was already living in my house for free! Nothing seemed to make sense. I kept asking myself, "What the fuck is going on here?". I finished my work, closed up and went home. Maria had cleaned the entire house, cooked me a fabulous meal from scratch (and I mean scratch, there was nothing in my home to eat), greeted me with a warm and tender smile... she was even wearing an apron. I was offically in the twilight zone. She offered me the food and I set it aside and we began feasting on each other. It was the most intense sexual experience of my life, even to this day. Afterward, she went to wash up and check on the kids as I ate the food she had prepared and indulged in my after-work drug consumption. She told me to go get her after I had finished so we could spend some more time together. I had hit the jack-pot here... not only was she beautiful and the perfect housewife, she didn't mind me getting wasted on drugs and she didn't even want any for herself? I thought I had died and gone straight to Heaven... everything was perfect. I ended up using far too many drugs for the night and passed out, so Maria went to sleep in my bedroom with the kids. I woke the next morning to another perfect day... greeted with a warm smile and embrace and a masterfully cooked breakfast. Then came the downfall.... a phone call from my best friend. My soon to be ex-wife was in town, at his house, and wanted to "see me". I had talked to him about Maria while I was at work the night before, so he was giving me a head's up. He laughed and said, "You're fucked bro... what do you want me to say to her?". We had this terribly dysfunctional relationship, so I agreed to go see her at his house... this meant she would also be expecting to come back home with me and spend the night and leave the next day to return to her new lifestyle. So basically, I switched into asshole mode... full scale. I told Maria to get her shit and get the fuck out of my house, now. She was heartbroken or so it appeared... I've never been good at understanding people all that well. So that was it, she walked out of the door with her two young boys and their few belongings and I kept the cat for myself. I had obtained what I had wanted for so very, very long... one night with Maria. Other than her coming to my work a night later and yelling at me for the way I had treated her... I never saw her again. It is a truly bizarre series of events and even after all of these years passed... I am still not sure what to think of it all. Did I really sell my soul to Satan? I honestly do not know, but I refer to it as such because that is really the only thing that makes sense of out this brief chapter of my life. I catch myself from time to time, thinking of Maria and how things could have been if I would have told my buddy to get rid of my ex-wife and never kicked Maria out. Even still, I wonder if I really did sell my soul and what may await me on the other side... or perhaps, I'm living soullessly and tormented now, as I pay my debt.