To The Women in My Life

Originally Posted: 1/14/07

dreamt of you last night. In my dream I gazed in your demure eyes, eyes of dark bourbon. I gazed there and spoke. Said "Kiss me, just once." for I knew it would be all we needed. A whole world, a whole life, dreams made true and all with a kiss. Yet, perhaps not. Perhaps we would still walk away and continue this waltz, our intricate dance of love and feigned ignorance. Still, we would have that kiss and it would be true, it would be magic, it would be one of a kind. I never wanted to fuck you, never wanted to make love to you, not once. I always saw us, you and I, as art. Saw that I would kiss your mouth and revel in you, gloriously nude and repeat my kiss at every point on your body. Then the moment would pass and we would be friends again. The love would stay, the ignorance would die and there would always be us, you and I...

You make me sick, you lurid bitch. Your conceit, your pompous lack of courtesy, the selfish way you breathe my air and leave me gasping, dry-heaving.Oh yes, I hate the very skin you wear, the little holes you try to tear in my resolve like I revolve around your pitiless lies. You are a whore, nothing more and your cavernous cunt is a coven of wretchedness, of filth, of disease, of impurity. You inferior peon, you mindless, worthless, pitiful excuse for gutter trash. Call me brash, but I think you're killing me. You wield no power, hold no sway and yet I feel it day to day, the constant downfall you leave like a plague, a pall. If I fall, surely you are at fault.

You are not a dream. No, you were a fantasy once (and occasionally still) but now you're real. Real and wholly mine. You are a creature whose love I could only pray for until it came to be mine. There is little to say now, beyond simple vows and curses sworn at your behest, sworn for your love and your greatness. Even that seems too little for someone so pure. My life is grandoise, my love is too. For something so diminutive to be the best I can offer...how unfair it seems in light of all you give to me. How truly unworthy I seem to my own eyes. I hope I never awaken to find you too, nothing more than a dream.

You have the moral high ground? Hardly. You seem to speak in riddles and rhymes to those of a lesser mind and when I look upon your smiling face I see nothing but its desecration. You defiled piece of scum rotting in the stinking summer sun. Your purity cast like refuse to the wind of change and the reeking scent of Alpha male. Perhaps it was worth your descent into sloth and sin, the pleasure he gave you, but I hardly beleive it so. Perhaps the natural adolescent rebellion caused it, perhaps you lied all along about your true nature. I prefer to think your words were, are and will ever be wasted only on yourself. Reassurances are nothing compared to the embrace of a real friend and when they're all gone, well you'll have nothing left but your own shallow words and empty husks of a beleif system long sacrificed for carnal delight. So shove it, bitch. Your morality is more than dead. Its been sold off to a jackal with love only for himself.

Mommy dearest, mommy dearest don't leave me alone. You selfish bitch. Perhaps I love you and perhaps I always will but I prefer to think those things are in my control. I'd like to think I could throw my disdain at you when you deserve it and hold you near to my heart when I must. If all the things you sacrifice for me are weighed with what I have done for you, maybe we aren't so different. I think we are. I think maybe someday your eyes will be open to what you've done, what you helped create and when they are I hope it eats you from the inside out. Because even you can't say you love something like this. No, I don't think even a mother's love can possibly over come this thing.

"Mother, the pain ain't hurting me". I'm free from it and from you now. As free as baby boys can be. As free as anyone in these times of darkness can become. You've given and taken and taught and learned and birthed and murdered me more times than I can dare to say, and when there is no one left here but me, no one beside you, I will sing out your name. I will sing you to sleep once more so you can't curse me for letting you die all alone. "Does anyone else know how it feels to be wrong?"

I grow weary of this. Of your prating and plotting and endless nonsensical babble. If you want something, then take it. Never let it pass by when it lies before you without vestiture, without shield or defense. It lies before you naked. And you're afraid, afraid of the light of the night of yourself. Perhaps there is darkness ahead, tribulation and touble but none of it matters. Nothing matters unless you face it alone. Then you're sure to fall. You're sure to die and it will be nobody's fault but your own.

Goodbye.