Waiting for the moment of pressure. One pound of courage. One pound of pressure. The touch of a single action trigger. Feel the tiny touch. Explosion of orange and red. An instant of acrid smoke, sulfur, flash of light, release. Peace and relief. The beauty cannot be described. Every second of thought orgasmic, hot flash, free, lovelier no other thought, no feeling to describe, release. These thoughts I had nurtured and loved. These images I had held secret and dear. Sweet as the caress of a new lover As love As care As need As desire beyond all other to squeeze this trigger and to taste sound
To arrive here without that kiss. It is bitter and horrible. I was robbed of a thousand dreams and told my lover was fake. A cheating whore A cum soaked slut A Lying fucking bitch Nothing and none of it You teased me You taunted me You took me to the brink of orgasm So many times And time fucking again Sweet orange orgasm of fire And explosion And sulfur. Lying whore Every image nurtured And worshipped Held with the sincerest desires of my heart The secret places I held for you, whore! You cheated me You lied You stole my deepest desires You spit in my face And laughed When the time, came I was given nothing but a nod to a parking lot where I watched the blood seep from my temple and it was nothing. I hear your mocking laugh in the shadows And sometimes I laugh with you Whore Sometimes I laugh with you I’ve been walking the sleep for a very long time now. Slipping. In the fog. I snap to. Groggy. Angry. Terrified but AWAKE. I’m on the pier. San Clemente . I’m AWAKE and I’m on the pier. And it’s DAY. She’s staring at me. Lovely brown eyes. Long and slender. Her sun dress blows in the ocean breeze. The ocean breaks behind her. Children laugh and the sun shines on her golden brown skin. She smiles at me behind her sunglasses. I pull myself. I need to talk to her. She stays. I thought I was dreaming but she’s here now. And I’m awake. And I need to talk to her.
“Why are you happy here?” I ask. She smirks again and I feel myself waking. I’m waking. I’m clear. “I’m sorry…I walk the sleep.” She smirks but it isn’t mean. “I know.” She says. That voice. I know that voice. My heart is racing. “Why don’t you?” I ask. She smiles and looks at a little red headed girl tossing tortilla chips off the side of the pier. The chips catch air and spin as they descend to the currents. Little cornmeal helicopters in the sun. A seagull eagerly sucks them out of the water and throws his head back up in anticipation for the next. The little girl giggles. The woman giggles with her.
“You can hear me.” She giggles again. The little girl runs down the pier. She is gone. And she is turning And walking. And my heart aches. And I cannot stand. I crumble onto the bench and watch the tortilla chips spin and glide and I feel something like hope and it vanishes into the throat of the seagull he sucks it up and swallows it She walks away. Down the pier and onto the beach. It is a beautiful summer day. But I am falling and slipping into NIGHT. I am slipping and falling deeply into the sleep. And I will walk and I will wake again somewhere. I always hear the ravens coming. They want to peck at my soul and tear at the shards of my brain. They want to laugh at me, rip my hair, and pay me back. They are coming after me. They do not forgive. I hate them and they hate me. And I feel them watching me as I slip, slip, slip. Walk the sleep. Walk the sleep. A darkness is falling over me. A walking of darkness and despair. Descent into the abyss. I am falling. To kill another person, even inadvertently, this is a horrible thing. Call it what you want. Manslaughter, accident… murder. I always come back to involuntary manslaughter through gross negligence….I read that. I have that blood and that soul on my hands. He would have been alive were it not for