demon fuzz

tidbits:
tear it to shreds,
(the past is a grotesque)
animal
noises

it has been a long time since I had a place I called my own.

when you finally learn to respect yourself after years of failed attempts,
it feels like coming home.

everyone who knows me is aware of how much of an advocate of detox i am. (damn new aged hippie freak)


co-dependence is
battles of bedazzled wars,
and now it has become clear and laid bare at last-
learning after the saxophone blisters and harmonica hand me downs
(ground into ash crumbles of crinkly pavement beneath old suede boots and feet just slightly too large for body type,
sexy vinyl spins and then you feel reborn
again and again
wires singing in shame but not without reason
as the seasons shift towards new once more)

1.

The day I leave the city, the sky is spitting. It's three days earlier than I had so painstakingly planned. I'm queasy and gassy- too much cheap tequila last night. Correction: just the right amount, actually. I can feel the bruises starting to form on my thighs. I ate enough RaisinBran this morning to feed a small country in the Eastern Hemisphere, leaning against the counter stovetop his tiny kitchen space, watching him sleep. He was tangled in his Winnie the Pooh sheets, naked, his puff of dusty curls haloing his babyface on the torn pillowcase. I left two scribbled notes and a poem in the back of his graphic novel on the smudged tile on his bathroom floor; the quarter full liquor bottle sitting topless next to the sex armchair. If I took it with me I was sure to get drunk on the bus. I think I'm still a little drunk, anyway.

I'm trying to ignore the sinking sensation, the nagging feeling that I shouldn't be leaving. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. It was supposed to be nine divine days, nine sinful nights of self-delving, dolce vita...romantic, sensual, adventurous- with mornings waking up wrapped up in him and days where I am his Maria,
nights where he pulls screams from my swollen lips like God gasping for air in the heated Babel evenings,
where language had no hold or meaning,
where every tongue found its love burning in the face of another,
in the sands of ever after,
and not in the post scrutiny of desperation...
where pretension chokes recession of growth through fingerless gloved hands
on dirty, emotionless streets of the West corners.

There is no more whispering out loud, among these soggy, piss soaked streets, uncomfortable and stiff a lot like me, remembering his disdain and distance as he walked me to the station in the rain,
backpack half zipped and leaking belongings as I stole sideways glances at his dampened homeless clothes and oceans of callow skin.
And now I've got a nonrefundable ticket to some shithole in Montana, where I'll transfer to another bus that will take me for Denver, then hop on yet a third that will send me all the way to Dallas...but at least I get to take a little piece of him with me,
I guess.

My nether regions are still throbbing, gathering a dull ache as the minutes pass, and a few hours ago I sprawled naked on the icy, ambivalent checkerboards of ceramic stone next to his shower, pen hastily scribbling words both ornery and wistful, tinges of tiny bits of sadness evident even as I sign off by telling him (for the first time with true meaning, and yet with none at all) I love him.

I remember the last and first sentences of the letter only-
it began with, "I don't know what time it is. The blinds are rattling, you're already snoring, and the deep wet warmth of you between my legs is making me want this moment to linger on much (MUCH) longer."

I peeled off the black satin gloves and I sat there a jumbled heap. Tableau of the royal mess I am, right now. He was right- I am dumb.
Utterly, completely,
idiotic. For making the decisions I have made,
these days.

I'm watching the Vietnamese woman that owns the Pho Bac- the cozy dive thai joint in the train station- fill the bottles of cock sauce,
and fuck,
I'm dwelling on the morning trudge to the bus station once again,
paper bag of random groceries soggy and near ripping, quiet and disgusted.
Everything is damp and gloomy, my face and pride are sticky, our goodbye is brief and lacking,
devoid of any emotion,
obligatory hug.

That's right, I did take your suspenders.
Take THAT
you lousy bum:
You'll shake your head in disbelief and call me crazy
[but I would rather hold that title than the realization I treated someone like shit
put them down and turned them away with assumptions
because they disappointed my unrealistic expectations-
of what love,
or something like it,
is supposed to be.]


Soggy amber leaves plastered to wet pavement, construction workers- dirty drapings of denim and matching hardhats. Coarse voices a distant rumble behind A Whole New World:
I'm singing in my head, his fault,
oh -and the irony just had to strike me
just as we're passing places we could have torn up,
together.

He's delicious in his woolen brown old man's sweater with the elbow patches, eyes still lazy with morning, damp cigarette dangling from one mouth corner as he refuses to meet my eyes or ask questions,
business once more,
highbrow as always.

I debate dropping my entire load of baggage (pun intended) and running the mile or two back to his apartment to crawl back into bed with him. For the first time in a long time, I suddenly crave nicotine. I'm talking myself out of buying a pack at the next stop. I think I might cry a little, instead.
Like last night,
sweaty,
makeup running,
lying half on and half off his throne of glorybox,
trying to swallow my sobs and hiccups as he dozed off beside me in post coital slumber.
One of his knees was propped up against the wall, both arms splayed lazily above his head.
I bit my own lip to keep from making audible whimpers,
and drifted off disturbed and drunk instead,
and yes-indeed, he did hold me at one point,
I'm not sure what to make of it but don't really give a rat's ass,
anymore.
I will say I'm through,
all the while knowing I should have been long ago,
and not quite convincing myself either way,
scrambling to sever the ties and leave the pieces behind, but all the while missing the puffs of his cheeks when he laughed in my direction and smiled in multiples of
sincerity and slight surprises of affection.




2.

I miss the tunnels in the Czech countryside,
writing in the dark train tunnels
(those moments you meet eyes with a stranger, briefly,
on a passing bus in a foreign land)

The hills were so alive to me,
life so full to bursting,
splendors so big and so small I often thought I would..
spontaneously combust

I want to be back on the cobblestoned streets of Prague,
amongst the terracotta-cream-mint buildings
(with only three malicious dogs)





3.

When I rub the pumpkin spice into my thirsty skin, remembrance floods me-
and when I step out into the icy, clear,
Cedar strewn night air,
my body acts of its own accord,
becoming flushed, soft, and warm from the sudden onslaught of thoughts...
like legwarmers enveloping taut thighs,
which are pressed tight to the fleshy sides of your neck,
you allow them to quiver alongside your cheeks momentarily before peeling them off,
slowly.
I have no words
for the sensations that pulsate through my spine
upon recalling your teeth clamped tight,
divine
HARD
around circles of my flesh.




4.

We are deer, naked wild, I'm caught in the headlights-
jumping and tripping,
skipping through your mind.


5.

You.
manifest in me a fierce understanding and amity of the human condition.


6.

I think it was Freud that said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, hoping to get different results.
Each time, you are believed to know better,
and to learn a valuable lesson on account of your mistakes.
So then what exactly makes someone repeat certain actions when they indeed know better?
Insanity? Defiance? Stupidity?


7.

We drove through a winter wonderland last night....some nameless Northwest cities. Quiet. Still. Empty. Covered in a fine layer of snow that seemed to absorb all noise (Except for the glow of inward hatred).
My boots crunched footprints into it, tossing a little onto my dirty pantlegs- I had to refrain from kicking it up joyously in girlish excitement: the gas station was playing Don't Fear the Reaper, and I felt odd.
I could only afford a shitty side salad at McDonalds...my last dollar. I'm going to have to break down, choke down my pride, and ask for more funds before I make it to the last and final stretch, homeward bound.
I've already stolen two granola bars...
would have gotten more but these goddamned gas stations have video cameras and fairly watchful patrons minding the registers.
I hate this.
I spent the last of my money on an expensive meal for him that I struggled vigorously at getting flawless,
some cheap liquor to make sure he got drunk enough to love me momentarily,
and now all I have to show for it is a ruin of overfucked, over-invested friendship and infatuation,
backtrack five years and maybe then I would be the one inducing vomit for a smidgeon of pity.
How sickening. I disgust myself.
And as for whatever happened to my self respect and dignity...
leaving early to try and retain a semblance of it means nothing if I counteract my own redressed intentions,
perhaps she was right: I'm pathetic and desperate.


8.

I can hear you sucking on the cigarette through the reciever

and the deep-lit darkness of humid late summer night-breeze seeps between the cracks-
splintering my skin, soaking it,
I'm recalling the unsteadiness in my footsteps as your voice penetrates the balmy stillness
first glass of thick, rich wine in months...
it slides through the vein web-locks deliriously,
sending forth sparks of urges that surge through red chipped fingetips
whispering, "write of this"
such sexy venom
leave me, sickness
my entire body is thrashing with disease,
need for him


9.

I'm watching you lick your blood scab
cheeks flushed
eyes half lidded and lazy
you light up
I can hardly stand this
why won't you allow me to have it one more time,
just a little something to remember you by?
last night
please.
permanent marker behind your ear
puffy lobes so biteable
your confidence sucks me in
black hole,
howling.