July 8th, 2003

lounge act

" this is the song from the edge of the world"

strippers remind me of so much.

what we are .
what we could be.
what we were.
what we'll never be.

" i'll replace your drunk old man/ sit in the parking lot and hold your hand."

i try to melt in the corner. too much special k. then i went in the basement and pounded my forehead into a pile of coke. then i ate a bowl of runny jello shots because these are the only homos in the world who don't know how to make food. shaking and peeling, i try not to be seen.

two leathery snake charmers come over and try to impress me with their cockrings and piercings. of course i've de- evolved beyond speech and just stare blankly at them- which they seem to think denotes an impressive industrial reserve. their chains are making too much noise and my head wants to slither into the charlie's angles pinball machine that holds me up.

they're trying to see which one of them i want to fuck. someone takes their dick out to show me some hunk of metal. the girl shoves one of her tit rings in my face. i'm feeling i want the floor to take me down and away. gripping the pinball machine is the obvious choice. i choose .. THIS>

out of a shiny black metallic crowd vanessa stompy teeters, determined on some sharp high heels- my savior.

she snaps at the spikey nasty iguanas-

" go.. a- wayyy!!!!!!!"

there's only a black drag queen between me and some heavily pierced sundry flesh and tits- a wall of leather clad oblivion.

maybe i mumble. maybe i drool.

" silicon carne is in my heart"

they seem determined. i seem lost. vanessa picks up the pinball machine and begins slamming it against the floor.

changes sprays everywhere-machine gun rat-a-tat. Van drags me off and dumps me on the floor of the dj booth-warning me not to go in the bathroom alone.

i find a minibaggy of coke on the floor.

and wake up.

" my arms are wrapped in cotton"

and i'm awake and running. i'm in a booth in some women's room somewhere on a jagged edge of sharp lines and cutting wires. the mind races and the body is nail hammared to the floor. it's another angel dust moment and the top is the bottom and the floor is the sky.

it's carefully explained to me that someone needs an abortion and i start thinking of knives and more sharp cutting things. i think up is out and crawl over the top of the stall to try to find some money.

opening the door would have sufficed. i've got no money. i sleep in a closet -like room on the floor- my face pressed against the pineboards that spin and weave under me. a couple is screwing , lamely with too much talking, outside the door- no one cums and everyone floats a circuit of nowhere in circles.

you can always get money on the allure of a rough trade-ish genuine underground trick- make them think theyre getting something, make them buy drugs or a sick lot of booze and fleece them when they pass out. break into a car. just get by. not even knowing it's the next day- skating away into the ether with no time frames-everything fades and blends even as electric shocks swell up and snap you out.

i woke up and here i am. i don't know how to live and i don't trust a soul. why did everything seem so right when it was so wrong?- was it was because i was to busy running to think or because it really is just all the same-passing, mangling, screwing up time and space until you run out?

" i always knew it would come to this/ things have never been so swell/ i have never felt so well..."

Then that ex trick showed up on"Jerry Springer" and it was time to detox or jump in the river...or maybe shove them in.
  • Current Mood
    "soaked in bleach"