Sunday 7/15/2007 12:03:00 AM

When I hear that sound. The drug gasping for breath. A twist of my wrist. A repitition of the last five year's nights. In one fickle move the grail is found and lost again. When I dream as I did this morning of a woman, my lover, pissing on me while I sleep. And appalled demand to know why only to have her change into a man and begin comforting me. Isn't it obvious I seek safety in humiliation.

And occasionally even find it.

I think it's too late. No. I know it is. Did long before I had this dream. Or noticed the suffering in the things I always assumed existed solely to torture us. Drugs don't breathe. I just imagine it when I hear the sound. The keen release I have found in my destruction. Something I've always wanted finally in my power. That my hate for myself could be my salvation.

Before the old ladies pushed me down the hall and tried to feed me cookies. Before I shouted to wake everyone up and tell them of my grief. I'd already decided I would forgive her if she could answer my one question.

Why?

When she left without answering and I found myself being fondled by and fondling a man. It became clear. I didn't want the why as much as I wanted the now.

Some kind of comfort to make this destruction worthwhile.

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