All The Shit I Don't Know About

Sometimes Problematic, Never Apologetic

[atsidka]

I rushed into the bedroom of the small apartment, my heart was beating through my chest and my mind was racing in anticipation of what I might find. I did not know what to expect, the call had been…

Another unedited post. I am torn on this one, I like some aspects of it, but overall I can’t really say I enjoy it. Never the less, I will post it as part of my new year's resolution to put more writing out into the world.

[atsidka]

She was beautiful, more beautiful than a summer sunset, draped in lacey and quite revealing black clothing, her raven hair perfectly flaming her elegant face. An average man such as myself had no r…

This is a short story I wrote, it is inspired by a post I saw on here. It is a short chronicle of the main characters' love affair with Death and the toxic relationship they have. It is unedited right now, but I really wanted to get it out there because though it needs a good amount of polish it is still one of my favorite things I have produced so far.

[atsidka]

When Reality Intervenes

She was everything I had ever wanted in a woman and she knew it too. Her pale flesh seemed to call out to mine like a siren, and I was Odysseus strapped to his mast trying desperately to resist her call. I watched as the drugs took hold of her, I watched as she contorted her lithe body in the strangest shapes, her inner gymnast was emerging before my very eyes. I reached out to her, she was like a lifeline in the ocean of my emotions, the drugs were beginning to take me as well. I felt a rush of ecstasy as she reached out and grabbed my hand. I don’t know if this is love, but goddamn at the moment it certainly felt like it.

“Hold me,” she said it so fast that I barely had time to react as she fell into my arms, she was small, she fit perfectly into my arms as I caught her.

She was so warm, or maybe that was just my temperature rising, I don’t know, what I do know is that at the moment I thought that I had found the one. The one who would make me forget about the others, the one who would dominate my mind and soul with her presence

“Forever”, I whispered in her ear, and I honestly think I meant it when I said it. Somewhere deep inside of me, I knew though, I knew that I could never fulfill that promise.

“Don’t.” there was a sadness in her eyes when she said this as if she knew that she could never take her rightful place in the very center of my heart. I hated seeing that, I hated the fact that she felt like she could never measure up to someone who would never even know. I hated the fact that she was right, but above everything else I hated that I couldn’t force her to be right.

“I-” she cut me off before I could finish, I felt her slender finger press against the center of my lips, I could taste the cigarette she had smoked and I didn’t even care. I knew how I felt about her, even if she didn’t think I could feel that way. I knew that if the choice were given to me, I would choose to love her, I would choose to give her my all. But I couldn’t, despite how much I desired, I could never commit to her the way that both she and I wanted.

So instead we simply sat there in silence, her fitting so perfectly into my arms, her gently rubbing my chest as she rested her head against me, silently, we both decided to enjoy this last night. We both decided that we would pretend as though there was no one else in the world except for us, that would be for the best for both of us. We both ignored the tears falling from our eyes, we knew that this would be our final time together, we knew that our love would be a final one, the kind that is destroyed by both time and experience itself.

[atsidka]

Mirame

The bed was a mess, a mess of blankets and moist sheets, the smell of their sweat seeped into the air of the room and stained the walls. The table was equally messy, but this was a mess of empty bottles, cigarette butts and suspicious white residue.

They lay entwined on the floor of the dingy apartment, panting from their previous activity. As exhausted as she was she couldn't help but throw her arm across his chest and pull herself closer too him, she loved the sensation of his body heat against her wet skin. He didn't resist, in fact he pulled her in closer and pressed his lips against her temple. There was no where on this Earth that either of them would rather be.

They were both hammered, drunk in love and drunk from the copious amounts of whiskey they had consumed throughout the night. They would both be feeling the hangover in the morning, but at the time they could only feel the ecstacy of being so close to one another. This was a feeling neither of them ever wanted to give up, but fortunately they would never have too. Eventually they both stood up and set about cleaning the place up, clearing their clothes from the floor, making the bed and cleaning up the messy table in the middle of the room.

They showered together, it took all of their will power to resist making love once more in the steam of the hot water. They groomed themselves, dressed in their best and returned too the soiled leather couch in the living room of their lamentable living area. They sat there for a while, simply enjoying each other's company, they wanted to savor every last moment of their time together. They simply sat in silence, staring at each other, soaking in the others soul and being into their own until they felt as thought they truly were one.

Two Gun Shots. In perfect harmony, in perfect synchronicity, and two bodies, entwined once more, in an eternal embrace. Two lovers ideal image of eternal love, the kind that time could never seperated and the world could never infringe upon.

[writing-prompt-s]

In the 15th century, Death asked you out. You rejected him. Furious and humiliated, he swore to never return for you. Six centuries later, you’re still alive.

[atsidka]

Amy

Why was I so cursed as to have you waltz into my life. When we had first met I had dared to hope that I could simply allow you to exist. Yet, here I sit, thinking about you so long after the fact.

Why was I so cursed as to have you waltz into my life. Why was I the one to be ensnared, why was I the one that had to be caught in your gaze. Why do those green eyes haunt me like the worst nightmares?

Why was I so cursed to have you waltz into my life. Your pale skin, your warm breath, why do they plague my waking thoughts. Why can I not remove the vision of you from my mind?

Why was I so cursed to have you waltz into my life. Why are you so alluring to me, why can I not accept the leagues that separate us? Why do you insist on keeping me in your life when I am trying so desperately to flee.

Why was I so cursed to have you waltz into my life. Why do the thought of your cigarette breath and coy smile drive me wild? Why does the sight of you make my head rush and my palms sweat?

Amy, why am I so cursed as to have met you. Why am I forced to always meet people who bring me the most pain? The worst part is how genuine you are. The worst part is how wholesome you are. The worst part is that I know that I would ruin you if I even touched your kind spirit.

[atsidka]

Encounter

She was firmly in my grasp, I knew exactly what buttons to press, the ones that would bring her even deeper under my thrall. Her short, desperate breaths were like music to my ears and I simply couldn’t get enough of their melody. Her flushed cheeks, her lean body, the way her fingers clenched the locks of my hair as though they were her only tether to reality, I loved it all. Though I cannot say I loved her, she simply provided me an outlet for my carnal desires, as dark and sadistic as they may be. My fingers danced across her body, slowly wandering down to that tantalizing heat that dwelt between her shapely thighs, the sweetness of her breath against my neck told me everything I needed to know, she wanted me to continue, and as a gentleman, it was my duty to oblige. So with a small smirk, I made the plunge into her already unbuttoned jeans and probed my way down to her depth. I was an explorer whose charter had brought me to the mysterious land of her body. 

She whimpered rather pitifully, but I silenced that with the press of my lips against her own, I could feel the desperation in the way she kissed me back. I allowed it for a moment, slowly wrapping my fingers around her slender neck, then forcefully I pushed her back so that her back thudded against the bathroom mirror. This cramped theatre bathroom didn’t afford me much space to work, but I made do with it never the less. Her brown hair fell over one half of her face obscuring one of her eyes as the other one, hazel in color, stared desperately back at me. I gave her a faint smile, one that conveyed exactly what my intentions were for her. There was a flash of fear, of uncertainty in her eyes, this only added fuel to my fire, I continued to explore every inch of her, to bend her to my will. I felt her defenses crumble as I ventured forth, exploring every crevice of her being, her arms, thin but toned, wrapped around my back, her acrylic nails digging through my shirt to the tender flesh underneath, I loved the sensation of it. Her moans began, but I stifled them with my free hand, the heat of her breath brought moistness to my pain, all the while her eyes never left my own. 

I leaned into her, all the while still stimulating her deftly, this was my trump card, the final play in my gameplan, the kill shot that would break her. I brought my lips to her and I whispered to her, I told her everything that I was planning on doing to her, the pain she would feel, pain that would just as soon give way to the pleasure she had never even dared to imagine before. She did her best to control her breathing, but it was useless, she was a violin and I was a skilled musician, she was made for my manipulations. I pulled my hand away just in time for a loud moan to escape her full lips, my mission was accomplished, she was mine whenever I desired her. I pulled away and gave her one last look, one that told her that she was now mine and I would do with her what I wanted, whenever I wanted. She sat there atop the bathroom sink, desperately trying to catch her breath as she looked back at me, in her eyes there was a bevy of emotions, there was fury at my abrupt stop, eagerness for me to continue, the desperation to see all my whispered words come to fruition. I gave another smile and then wordlessly I exited the small bathroom, I ignored the small crowds of people moving up and down the halls of the busy theatre, they were of no consequence to me. I simply made my way back into the dark theatre I had left before, I had lost track of the movie long ago and I honestly could care less about it at this point, I had other things on my mind. I reclaimed my seat passing by a lone man who was looking around confused, clearly searching for someone in the dark and sparsely occupied theatre. As I sat there and zoned out, I noticed her enter the theatre, we made eye contact for a moment and even in the dark I could see her pale cheeks flush once more, I smiled style and returned my gaze to the large screen where some bland antagonist was talking to his equally bland love interest. She made her way back to her seat, the one next to the man who had been looking around so keenly and leaned over to deliver a kiss to his cheek. The sight of it forced me to stifle a small chuckle, he had no idea that he was now little more than a place holder for my own presence, he would bring her home tonight and he would be the last thing on her mind. Throughout the remainder of the movie, she would look back at me, occasionally with a suggestive bite of her lower lip, I paid her no mind, I would have her when I wanted, her silent pleading would do little more than annoy me presently.

When the film had ended and the few people in the theatre were filing out I was right behind them. As they walked he rested his hand on the small of her slender back and she shot me one last look, one that was so desperately imploring that I couldn’t help but chuckle. He looked back and upon spotting me, his eyes narrowed in suspicion of this stranger that he suspected was ogling his girlfriend if he only knew the truth of the situation.

[atsidka]

Gone Girl

That dingy little hotel room seemed like the entire world at that point. They hadn’t left it for nearly four days, aside from the occasional liquor and cigarette runs, they stayed there. The whole room reeked of alcohol, cigarettes, and sex, it stained the air, lingered on the sheets, it may very well have become a permanent fixture at that point. They didn’t care, they had become used to the smell, it served as a natural aphrodisiac, encouraging them to continue their revelry. They barely knew each other's names, and yet there they lay sprawled across the bed, covered in scratches, bite marks, and cigarette burns, passing a half-empty bottle of gin between themselves. 

He looked over at her, her bronze skin slick with sweat glowed in the shitty fluorescent lighting of the room, her tangle of black hair was damp with sweat and spilled booze, and her ample chest was heaving from a combination of chain-smoking and vigorous lovemaking. He smirked at the sight of her, she really was a little hellion, a wild animal that he had the good fortune to stumble across that night at the coffee shop near his apartment. They had hit it off immediately, they had spent hours talking about art, philosophy, literature, film, anything and everything they could think of. Eventually, they were kicked out so the little mom and pop place could close up for the night, and they continued their conversation all the way to her hotel room. She was a bit of a drifter, making her way across the country looking for a place she could make a home out of. It wasn’t long before they set upon each other, furiously ripping at each other's clothing and tearing at each other's flesh like rabid dogs. This was out of character for him, he was usually a gentle lover, a mild-mannered soul, but she seemed to bring out the very darkest parts of his spirit. He laughed silently as he recalled an old Superman comic where The Man of Steel had been exposed to the red variant of Kryptonite, and instead of making him weaker, it made him brash and impulsive. She was his red kryptonite in this situation, just the sight of her made him want things, things that he could never propose to his fiance back at home. A slight pang of guilt racked him as he thought of his fiance, she was away for the next week on a business trip, he hadn’t answered any of her calls, and the texts she sent were returned with short curt answers if they were answered at all. This incident would most likely mean the end of their engagement, Kim was not stupid, she probably had an idea as to why he may essentially cut her off for such an extended period of time. Even if she couldn’t prove it definitively, there was little he could say that would convince her otherwise. He resolved to simply let himself enjoy the moment, to let the waves of ecstasy and primal desire wash over him, to simply let go.

I got a wild one on my hands, she thought to herself as she struggled to catch her breath. it was rare that someone could really keep up with her, she prided herself on the intensity of her sexual force, but this outwardly square seeming individual was something else. She realized she was gonna miss him, miss the talks they had between fucking sessions, he had a beautiful mind, to bad it was all chained up in that disgustingly mundane life he led. He had mentioned a fiance who was a 9-5er like him, she cringed to even imagine living a life of such rigidity, that suffocating existence. She turned her head to look at him, to her slight surprise he was doing the same thing, staring at her like she was a goddess and he was a devout apostle. She knew she could steal him away from this place and he wouldn’t give it a second thought, she almost pitied him at that moment, he wasn’t in love with her, he was in love with what she represented. She knew that if she hadn’t been such a deviation from his safe and reliable life, there would be no chance of them ever ending up here, she had known men like him before. Men who were happy to use her as an escape from a life they held a deeply suppressed disdain for, but they wouldn’t make it with her for the long run, her life may seem exhilarating for a short time, but it’s only exciting because they know they can slip back into their old safe life at any time. For her, it was a fine line to walk, the guys who could run away with her and actually last were usually clones of the abusive piece of shit she had been running away from in the first place. Unfortunately, the guys who might be able to make her happy were always the ones who would require her to settle down, to tame herself, to be domesticated and indoctrinated into normal society. This one was a little different though, he was fun, he was definitely every bit as wild as she was, he just had to keep it under wraps as to not completely derail the carefully constructed life he had outside this shitty hotel room. She would actually miss him.

They laid there all night, that didn’t say it aloud, but they both knew that this would be the last night they spent together. They would never see each other again, no this was just a happy coincidence, a time when the stars had perfectly aligned to bring two kindred spirits together. She would die six months later, one of the many men she had similar encounters with would find her in a gas station and shot her point-blank in the back of the head. He blamed her for ruining his life, for destroying his marriage, she hadn’t forced him to accompany her back to her rented room, she hadn’t forced him to spend two nights furiously engaging in the most adulterous acts imaginable. She had merely been a drifter who had been looking for a place to call her own, looking for herself in the great American landscape. 

He would think of her from time to time, wonder where she was and what she was doing. His engagement had indeed fallen apart after he finally reunited with his fiance Kim, she didn’t have any actual proof as to his infidelity, but it was so obvious she didn’t even need it. He didn’t even bother denying it, all he could do was apologize as she sat there crying and staring at the telltale scratches and bite marks on his neck and arms. He was single now, there had been a couple dates, but none of it ever lasted past the first, there just wasn’t that same spark, that same fire that he had been exposed to. That woman had awoken something in him, she had revealed a whole new world to him, a world of chaos and unrivaled ecstasy, a world where he could just let go and never have to think about anything past the moment. Then she was simply gone, without a trace, she could very well have been nothing more than a figment of his imagination, an apparition that came to him in a dream. But there were still a few scars that told the truth about her, she was very real, but she was still very much gone.

[atsidka]

Sadistic Love (Oh baby)

I love Hollywood romance, but not the run of the mill ones, no “Dear John” or “Remember Me” will do. No, I like the ones that depict just how cruel and soul-crushing romance can be, I like the ones where no one gets a happy ending because from personal experience, those are far and few between when it comes to romance. I like the ones where the main character is left in a puddle of misery and self-loathing because of the heart-wrenching experiences they have gone through, I don’t mean things like physical abuse, that is of no interest to me, I find no entertainment in something so deplorable.

For example, there is a movie called “Oh, Ramona”, which I highly recommend to any and everyone who will listen. It centers around a teenage boy named Andrei who has spent many of his formative years obsessing over the titular character Ramona. Without spoiling anything, he soon becomes her plaything and she seems to derive great joy in knowing that no matter how much she ruins his social life, he will still come running when she calls. Further, into the movie Andrei actually finds another girl named Anemona, Anemona is the opposite of Ramona, she is stable(er), compassionate, and seems to be a much healthier option for Andrei. Again without spoiling anything, that doesn’t work out, and Andrei finds himself once again running to Ramona when she calls. Now the average person will look at this situation and cheer for Anemona and Andrei as a couple, I, on the other hand, prefer Ramona. I admit that Anemona is without a doubt the healthier option for Andrei’s sanity, but were I in his shoes I would be so pulled to Ramona and her chaos, that Anemona would quickly become an afterthought. 

I could never put into words why such chaos and instability are so intoxicating to me and believe me, I have tried a million times. I have tried to write characters that would encapsulate all those traits about women like Ramona that drive me wild, but I fail literally every time. I think that it’s because that is such a specific type of woman, one that is about as rare as it gets, clingy but not in the way where they cry when you leave, in the way that they will manipulate your emotions in the most calculating ways to ensure that you will never want anyone else but them. The kind of woman who only wants you, but will constantly keep you in doubt, but just as you begin to decide to pull away, she shows you the smallest sign of affection and you come running right back. Yes, yes I know that this is incredibly unhealthy and probably borders on emotional abuse, but hey everyone has their kinks, mine just happens to be the kind that is emotionally destructive, so no judgments. But as I was saying before, trying to capture this kind of character on a page has proven to be incredibly difficult, obviously, people have done it, but they seem to draw from personal experience. I have small experiences with such women, but it’s usually been scattered experiences like if you took all the flaws in my past relationships and compiled them into one woman she would be perfect. I mean, perfect is a strange word to use in this situation but in terms of what I want, it fits. God, the more I write the more fucked up I sound, but hey this is about as real as I can be, I love the chaos, I love the drama, I love the pain and the small spells of joy.

My love life has been a pretty big mess to be honest, which can most likely be attributed to this strange desire of mine. Ninety-nine percent of all my relationships involved me being played for a fool, or being left in a position where I was constantly questioning the dynamic of the relationship itself. The absolute worst was one where no the woman involved was so close to fully capturing the traits I was talking about, she knew she had me, and she played with me like a damned puppet. A few months back she waltzed back into my life after several years and all though I convinced myself that I was older and less likely to fall for the same tricks, low and behold… it happened all over again. At least, this time I was smart enough to not pursue when she left this time, effectively ending the game. As much as I say I am glad that I didn’t fall into the same trap, as much as I want to say that this shows personal growth, there is still that part of me that wants to fall back in just to feel that same flurry of emotions. The infatuation, the suffering, hope that I can earn her affection, the ecstasy whenever she affirmed that I wasn’t the only one feeling things, god damn it’s a feeling like no other. 

I have given this a great deal of thought in the past, I always wonder why I seem to only be attracted to the broken and the breakers. The only truly healthy relationship I had ended in a heartbeat because the ex I had before her came calling and like a loyal puppy I came right back to her side. Turns out, it was really just her wondering if she could still have me whenever she wanted, turned out she could and like a fool I fell right into it. The saddest part is that the girl who I so coldly abandoned was so into me and she had no problem showing it, she begged me to stay, offered to do things that it would be ungentlemanly of me mention, she completely surrendered her dignity in hopes that I would stay and her friends guilted me for weeks about how often she was crying. Needless to say, I have never felt like a bigger piece of shit in my life and I felt like I completely deserved to be toyed with in the way I was, the only solace I find in this anecdote is knowing that she went on to find a man who was and still is very good too her and last I heard they were engaged to be married. I wish her only the best, and I will always be sorry from the depths of my heart because no one deserves to be cast aside in such a callous way. 

Holy shit I had no intention of getting sad when I started typing this, but here I am now thoroughly depressed and lamenting over what could have been and what has been. I hate the way that I am, well not the whole product, but the aspect that can only be happy in misery, as much as I wish it wasn’t that way, I am so terrified of being bored in a relationship, I am absolutely terrified of finding someone who will be a steady rock, someone I can always rely on, because above all things I fear complacency, and while I know those two things are not mutually exclusive, knowing myself, it is very likely to happen. God, this is really bringing me down, I hate getting all really like this, I hate introspection, for me, it never ends in a positive place. Signing Off.

A loathsome, masochistic, self-deprecating lover

[atsidka]

An Angel Lost In Hell

What are you doing girl, you know you don’t belong here

You look like the kind that could disappear here

This is where people go, to escape God's eyes

A place where life can’t be bought with lies

You look, nervous girl, take a seat, stay a while

I can give you something for the nerves if you’ll sit with me awhile

Don’t look over there baby, you don’t need to see what they’re doing

Just taking care of another angel who lost track of where she was going

You’re so used to the surface, where the lights keep you safe

But now you’re with the monsters, and you aren’t ready for our game

Just take it, girl, sip that slow, we can get to the fun later

We had one just like you before, we used to have fun with her

But we got a little too excited and my friend went and broke her

She’s in the back somewhere, don’t go looking for her

You might find something you don’t like and you might end up broken too

We wouldn’t want that for you, at least not until we’re done with you

[atsidka]

I Heart Cthulu

Howard Phillips Lovecraft was so racist it makes me cringe when I read his works at times. Never the less he was a man of the twenties and one could expect little more from a man of that time. Despite his raging racism and sexism he remains one of my all time favorite authors and one of my biggest influences for my writing. Obviously the most famous creation of his was “The Call Of Cthulu” which spawned hus most famous creature, Cthulu. Lovecrafts brand of horror was the kind that involved the creeping horror that I believe to be the worst kind. The monsters and entities were not always understandable and sometimes they never made a physical appearance, but that only compounded the fear. The unknown can often be the scariest thing in life, that realization that something is lurking just out of sight, or just beyond the veil of reality. Sadly, the lovecraftian style of horror has rarely been done correctly in film, with most of them turning out to be incredibly corny and boring. The three best film examples of lovecraftian horror that come too mind are the following;

Event Horizon

The Thing (the one from the eighties with Kurt Russel, don’t give me that new bullshit…)

In The Mouth Of Madness

There are some other loosely lovecraftian ones such as Alien, where the xenomorph could be a creature ripped straight from the mind of Lovecraft. For the most part though, Lovecraft seems to work best on paper where the horror can be built up over a period of time until it is deafening. For a long time I have wanted to write a lovecraftian horror, but it is a task that is much easier to theorize than to execute. I think that part of my struggle is the one that comes from trying to live up too my own image of HP Lovecraft, without the racism obviously. Until the day I accomplish this goal, I will continue to pray and worship our Lord and destroyer Cthulu.

[atsidka]

So I’m Sitting In This Restaurant...

So I’m with some buddies eating at a restaurant, and the waiter comes up and asks for our orders.

Me: I’ll have the biggest steak you have.

Waiter: Sir this is actually a vegan restaurant.

Me: That’s fine, I’ll just have the biggest vegan you got, medium rare, please.

Obviously, this didn’t actually happen, it’s just a joke I heard a while ago from a buddy. I’m sure by now you have been able to deduce what the topic of this post is by now. Veganism. It seems that today everyone hates on the vegans, which is compounded by the vegans hating on the non-vegans. While I confess there are a lot of very preachy vegans out there, I have had the privilege of mostly only meeting the agreeable ones. I personally have no issues with veganism, I even agree with some of the ethical standpoints about factory farming. However I am, always have been, and always will be a meat eater at heart, steak, ribs, beef, pork, chicken, fish, all of it in my mouth. Even though this is the case I understand the sympathetic nature of some vegans about the way this livestock are usually raised, it can be downright despicable to see. I for one prefer to eat game meat when given the chance, I feel much better knowing that the animal I am eating was able to live a free life as animals are supposed too. In fact, hunters and vegans usually seem to agree about a lot of ethical issues in regards to factory farming and respecting wildlife. Though, of course, there are still the vegans who will claim that they are the only ones that like animals and killing one basically makes you the anti-christ.

My point in this is that being a vegan is cool and all, just don’t be a douche about it. I get it that you might have a more ethical approach towards food than most, but that doesn’t really make you better than the rest of us. Especially when you consider how many small animals are killed harvesting all those crops that vegans live off of. Those giant harvester machines don’t know the difference between ground-nesting birds and the crops it is harvesting, so they end up as casualties. So unless you completely grow all the food you eat and personally harvest it, there is no cruelty-free food for you.

My goal isn’t to shit on the vegan lifestyle, it’s just to put in my two cents on the issue. Humans have been eating meat for hundreds of thousands of years and we most likely will continue too in the foreseeable future. The vast majority of the world eats meat and I can make a safe bet that not all of them hate animals. Although I do think that I should send out a message to my fellow meat eaters as well; People who constantly complain about vegans are just as annoying as the vegans who constantly complain about non-vegans.

[atsidka]

Personal Archive: Suicidal Thoughts

I wrote this about four years ago after listening too some extraordinarily depressing music and reading some equally depressing books. I want to preface this with saying that by no means was I suicidal, although my teenage self would have assured you that I was. I also want to take this time to say that if anyone out there is struggling with thoughts of suicide, please reach out too someone or call the national suicide hotline for America: 1-800-273-8255

My phone in hand. My goals in mind. Sitting alone in the darkness of my room. The warm summer night air blows in through my open window. I take a glance around me, my eyes have adjusted too the dark after sitting in it for over an hour. I have a strange sort of calmness in my heart, not the expected fear or apprehension. It’s like my body has resigned to the fate it will meet. I stay like this for a few more silent minutes before checking the time on my phone. The brightness of the screen shocks my retinas with its contrast against the darkness around and inside me. 02:23 it says, I close my eyes one last time and take a deep breath. I take these few moments to reflect, my mind is searching for a reason to not get up and do the unspeakable. But it’s like trying to grab smoke with your bare hands. I think of her and all that she is to me, and then I remember what he is to her.. and it seals my resolve with a sort of finality that is soothing to my soul. I won’t be missed for long. I get up off the messy bed and stretch my bare feet against the floor, something about your final moments makes you notice all the small things. I felt the blemishes in the cool wood floor, places where the knots had formed in the wood before it was cut and lain. I see the picture my sister made for me after her first day of kindergarten, the vibrant colors, distorted and dimmed in the cold darkness. I smile, at least one person will miss me, though she will be too young to understand what happened at the time. I go down the short hallway of the upstairs part of the house. I step quietly into my sister's room. I kiss her on her cheek as she sleeps quietly, ignorant of the real world, and innocent in her spirit. I pray in what’s left of my heart, that she never feels anything but absolute joy in her life. I take one last look at her and smile. I make my way across the hall into the bathroom. I throw in the lights, my adrenaline begins pumping, any calmness I felt has gone. I look into the mirror, I hate what I see, I see a coward, I see a disgusting, worthless animal that has nothing to live for. A piece of filth that needs to be exterminated, I move to the cabinet, and slowly open the mirrored door. I see my way out immediately, they always say to get rid of your old medicine, I suppose this is one way to do it, I almost laugh at the sick joke. I grab the bottle and clutch it tightly in my hand. I look back at the mirror, and quickly look away again, I can’t look at myself. I unscrew the bottle cap on the bottle and look down at the small white tablets, they are almost inviting in a morbid sort of way. I don’t think anymore, I swiftly toss what remains in the bottle down my throat, I feel them fighting and clawing against my throats walls, I turn on the faucet and scoop in a few handfuls of water. I finally get them all down, and that is when I look in the mirror again, for the first time in I don’t remember how long, I don’t mind what I see in the mirror. I turn off the light and slowly go back down the hall into my room. I climb back in bed and climb in my bed. I close my eyes, and that’s when my thoughts finally silence, I find comfort that I will die in the embrace of the darkness, my only friend. I slowly smile, and I wait.

[atsidka]

Walking Dead

Walking corpses with no grave to lay their heads

So instead we return home and in our beds

We feel so alone in this big empty world

Even as we are swallowed into societies fold

But the truth in the lies that we never seem to see

Is that everyone else is dead inside just like me

[atsidka]

Coolest Kids

She wants to be one of those super cool kids

Standing on the corner smoking squares in a chain

The kids who fuck with the drugs that distort the brain

The kinda kids who you couldn’t bring home to moms

The ones that rock them skinny pants and Toms

She wanted to snag herself a badass

The type who was only into her for the fat ass

The type that would piss her daddy off

At least he would have, if her daddy hadn’t run off

She wants the friends who play their music loud

The ones who stand out in the madding crowd

The kind that she could sneak out with and party

The type to cut classes and show up tardy

She wants to be part of all the bad stuff they do

She wants to hang out with me and you

[atsidka]

Mr. Tiro’s Charge

She is an object, people cannot be so readily bought and returned as she has. So in her mind and the minds of many others she is something less than human, an object. She has developed a numb indifference to this, it has been her life for the last nine years and it would most likely remain that way. Sometimes when she laid in her bed she remembered, the little girl that had been sent away in hopes of her finding a better life. She knew her parents intentions had been pure, but she couldn’t help hating them for the world they had unwittingly handed her over too. Every morning she wakes up in her well-furnished apartment, paid for by the company. She ate a well-balanced breakfast, groceries on a company card reloaded every month. She practices her reading with the morning paper and after cleaning her used dishes she goes into her large bathroom. In her bathroom she cries, always over the porcelain sink, when the last of her emotions trickle down the drain she takes a shower. She readies herself  for the day, she dresses in one of her many elegant outfits provided through the company tailor. She usually wears her thick raven her down over one shoulder, usually by the end of the day it wound up in a ponytail. After she does her hair she waits in the living room for a call to come, the call is always from a private number, and it is always a female voice on the other end. The voice would give her a breakdown of her schedule for the day, it included times, locations, client names and numbers, as well as the “services” to be completed. Than at 9:45 on the dot, her handler Mr. Tiro would knock on her door three times, they would exit her apartment and take the back staircase down to Mr. Tiros company car and from there her day began. That was her routine every single morning for the last nine years, and it brought her some strange ease of mind. Throughout her day she would be forced to bow too every whim and fetish her clients could think of and they could think of a lot, but her mornings were in her control down to what she ate and what underwear she wore.

For the most part, the company made attempts to keep her and the other girls safe, they charged exorbitantly for the more taboo and or monstrous services. This indeed kept away the deranged street punks and homeless men seeking a punching bag, but some monsters have very deep pockets. As such it never failed that at the end of most days she had some bruise or mark on her body. At the end of her day Mr. Tiro picked her up from her last appointment, he was a kind man and he spent extra time making sure she was safely and comfortably returned to her apartment. Sometimes when her wounds were extensive he would help her to disrobe and he would bath her before treating her wounds and preparing her dinner. For these past nine years he has been the closest thing she has known too a friend, and yet they had hardly said more than five words to each other.

Not all of her clients were deplorable men, many men came to her out of a simple feeling of loneliness. Some were simply men who had no attraction to their now fat and lazy wives, these men were usually nervous but gentle. They brought her gifts and showered her with praise and compliments, many even promised to take her away from this life. They never did, instead they returned to their normal lives with their families and let her become just a memory they pleasured themselves too when their wives fell asleep. Many of them would return again, with more gifts and praise and even more empty promises, and she was always there with open arms and a plastic smile. She knew they wouldn’t risk the stability of their lives for a thing like her, only the foolish girls bought into a client's empty whisperings.

One night she returned to her apartment entirely in the arms of Mr.Tiro. Her fifth too client of the day had been a mountain of a man with brutal tastes. He had been unable to “perform”, that is until she had cracked four of her ribs and left her backside and legs covered in bleeding welts. She did not complain, she did not cry, once the client had reached his climax she cleaned herself as best she could and waited to be ferried to other next appointment. She had remained silent on the ride as normal and was delivered to a downtown hotel shortly before her final appointment for the night. Less than twenty minutes later the company received a call from a disgruntled client saying she had never arrived. Mr. Tiro would find her unconscious in the women's bathroom right around the corner from the angry man's room. He made a formal apology to the very rotund man on behalf of the company, the man was nearly drooling at the sight of the unconscious girl and insisted he could make use of her anyway,  but eventually conceded to an offer of a free appointment at a later date.

Mr. Tiro carefully brought her down the emergency staircase of the hotel and placed her in the back seat of the company car, after quickly surveying her he felt a sharp twinge strike his heart. The girl was in bad shape, dried blood had caked in streams down her legs and her breathing was labored. He drove her back to her apartment and carried her up the stairs and into her apartment with the help of a doorman, the man knew better than to ask questions, especially while receiving his sizable salary directly from the company. Once inside the apartment he carried her into the bathroom, he disrobed her and ran her a bath, he gently cleaned her giving extra attention to her bloodied bottom half. After he treated her wounds and dressed her in some pajamas he found in her drawers, he placed her in her bed and sat on the chaise lounge next to it. He stayed with her through that night, watching over her like a guardian angel, she cried in her sleep and pleaded in her native tongue.

When she woke the next morning there was a note beside her on the bed, it was from Mr. Tiro saying the company after his advisement had given her two days off to recover from her wounds. The company had also placed a black ball on the offending client's name, he would find service with other companies very difficult to come by in the future. They also left contact information for a doctor should she need any further care medically, of course, they wouldn’t want her to go to a hospital, their doctor was no doubt on retainer and knew better than to ask any questions about the injuries. She went through her morning ritual as though it were just any other day, but when the time came to wait for the company call, she found herself sitting in her living room all dressed up with nowhere to go. This was her first day off since she had begun working for the company as a young girl, she had no idea how people generally filled their day. She decided to continue practicing her English with the morning paper, she came upon an ad for an open-air marketplace, she didn’t know the address listed but after putting it into her computer she found it was right down the street in the big pavilion.

The market was an experience unlike anything she had ever been through, the laughing and loud chatter of people bustling about, the aromas. The aromas were what she liked best, the smells of freshly baked breads and fried foods were intoxicating. Everyone seemed so happy, and it was contagious, she felt a smile begin to creep across her face as she walked from vendor to vendor perusing their offerings. Across the pavilion she caught a glimpse of a familiar face, it was one of her regular clients, he was with a strikingly beautiful woman, there were two small children with them. She was caught off guard by the appearance of the woman that was clearly her client's wife, she was stunning not at all fat or unattractive. She had always pictures his wife to be some slovenly woman with facial hair and excess body fat, but this woman looked like she had just fallen out of the cover of a magazine. She continued to stare across the marketplace at her client, people moved around her and some gave her puzzled looks as she stood there.  She had seen this man once a week for the past two years, always on Thursdays, always at two o'clock in the afternoon, he had always been one of her more gentle clients and she had almost come to enjoy the time they spent together. He was one of the ones who whispered those empty promises in her ear, promises of lavish vacations and a family of her own. She had known that those words were empty, girls like her didn't typically get such a happy ending, but seeing him living out those promises with another was none the less heartbreaking. Her thoughts spiraled downwards as she continued to stare at the family that was now taking a picture with a man in a big head costume, she kept thinking about how unfair it was. Why was it that after he decided he was done with her, he was allowed to return too the daylight, while she was ferried off too whoever had rented her body next. Her thoughts grew frenzied and furious, why was that woman any different than her ? Why had she been graced with a life and picture perfect family, while at the end of the day she was left with no one but the solemn Mr. Tiro, whom she still only saw for a short time. In her quiet rage she barely noticed she had begun to walk towards the family, who was now standing in line for cotton candy. As she drew closer the man saw her and his face blanched, but she was too incensed to care about any scene she might cause. Before she knew it she found herself standing right in front of the family of four, the little boy and girl looked up at her, and their mother pulled them in closer clearly confused. For a moment all of them were quiet, and then her rage broke loose in a flurry of wild slaps and obscenities, she wasn't sure when she started crying but in the midst of her fit she felt the hot sting of tears running from her eyes. People were looking now and before she knew it a pair of strong arms was pulling her away from the man, who was now yelling his own obscenities at her while nervously looking around at the staring crowd. She struggled against the large arms wrapped around her waist for a moment, and then she caught the familiar scent of sandalwood, Mr. Tiro's cologne.

She cried as Mr. Tiro walked her back to her apartment building. As usual, he said nothing, but she felt comforted just knowing he was there. When they finally crossed the threshold to her building he picked her up unexpectedly and placed her in her bed, he then moved to the bathroom to run her a bath. After a while, she stopped crying and Mr. Tiro emerged from the bathroom with a towel and a robe for her, she disrobed as he faced the wall and then followed him into the bathroom. She slipped into the hot water and almost on command her tears came again, her body still bore the bruises from the previous day and Mr. Tiro took extra care to wash over the cuts on her ribs and legs. Once her hair had been washed Mr. Tiro exited the bathroom to allow her to don the robe he had given her, once she emerged she heard the

sounds of sizzling meat coming from the kitchen. She entered the large kitchen to find her handler standing over a pan of mixed ingredients, she sat herself down at the table and waited patiently. She knew her actions would have consequences, and no doubt she would be getting a heavily reduced pay after embarrassing a regular client. She sat in her thoughts until Mr. Tiro placed a bowl of meat and vegetables in front of her before seating himself directly across from her at the table. He watched her patiently as she picked at half of the food before pushing the rest of it away, he took care of the dishes and she retreated back to her bedroom, she lay there listening to the sounds of water running and cabinet doors closing. Mr. Tiro entered her room and made a short bow before turning to exit the room.

"Please stay", her voice was quiet and her words seemed to surprise the usually composed man. He lingered in the doorway for a moment before turning around and seating himself in the chaise lounge near her bed, he said nothing and she said nothing more. She cried herself to sleep and Mr. Tiro watched over his charge.

[atsidka]

Solitude

The room was small. He had grown used too the confined space after all this time though. The room had no windows, but he had no recollection of the world outside of the room anyway.The grey stone walls did little for his warmth in the colder seasons, but he would give anything for the coolest breeze when the hotter months came and turned the room into a kiln. His bed, little more then a paper thin cot on the grey stone floor offered no comfort, and had only led to him developing back problems as the time went by. His bathroom was a bucket that the guards changed three times daily, leaving long stints of time when his cell was allowed to marinate in the smell of his own waste. He wasn’t sure why he was here or how long he had been wherever “here” was but he knew that he was most likely going to die there. He had the vaguest memories of a life before the room, but those memories are little to rely on, flashes of images that meant nothing to him. Occasionally he could hear sounds through a small crack at the very base of the wall opposite the heavy metal door, but he was never sure if he was actually hearing them or if his imagination was just running out of hand from the visual fatigue of his days. His food was served through a small sliding panel at the bottom of the door, usually a couple stale pieces of bread, some slimy canned greens and a meat that had some colorful tinges too it. He knew he had gotten thinner from the meals, even with his shoddy grip on the passage of time he knew that he hadn’t been able to see his ribs in his first memories of this place. Now they stuck out of his papery white skin, he would often run his fingers along them absent-mindedly, he knew he should be concerned but when your life is lived in a 10x8 square it was hard to concern yourself with much. The worst part of his confinement wasn’t the inability to recall how he had ended up there, it was the games his own mind would play on him. He would find himself in dreams where he would be released from the room out into a world that was entirely unfamiliar too him, a fresh start and a whole lot of open space. He would then wake up from these dreams, and then on top of the anguish of his minds teasing, he could not even recall what the outside of the room looked like in the dream, leaving him with little but the feeling of being cheated. The guards never said anything, even when he yelled unintelligibly at them in his fits of rage, they had become more and more frequent as the time went on and he could occasionally hear them snickering outside of his door as he tossed his few possessions around in fury. If only he had a window, something to assure him that the world was larger than this small room, something to let him know that outside of these four cold walls there was life in motion. He had tried to keep a count of the time that went by on his walls, but after a while the lack of any view of the heavenly bodies made keeping count very difficult. The scratches he had made with a sharp piece of broken cement taunted him and reminded him that even his right to know the time had been effectively taken from him. That piece of cement often found it’s way in his hands, sometimes at his throat, it was determinedly sharp enough to pierce his skin and the thoughts very nearly drove him to do it some nights. Usually, it found it’s way back under his coat, he knew he couldn’t kill himself, this usually brought a bitter smirk too his face, “too cowardly for the cowards way out”, he would think too himself. At night he liked too look up at his ceiling and imagine that it would just fade away and reveal, whatever it was that might be there above it. One time, not long after his mind began to slip he sat at the slide of the door and begged, tears flooding down his face, for even just a look at what was beyond the door. All he wanted was a breeze that wasn’t the same stale he had been breathing for god knows how long. He begged unheard for even the privileged of hearing a voice that wasn’t the ones that had started holding court inside of his head. No one responded of course, and he cried himself to sleep on the cold hard cement floor wishing that someone or something would just end his suffering once and for all. His hair was long, shaggy, and filthy, he had no access to a shower, sometimes pulled at it in his frustration, he had even pulled a chunk of it out of his scalp once. The blood had poured down the side of his head and left dried blood and matted hair, it eventually healed over but for a while, it had oozed a sickly yellow puss that smelled rancid. One morning he had woken up and his head had been wrapped and a note left on his door instructing him to leave the bandages on for the next three days. He ripped the paper up in fury, how would he know it had been three days if they wouldn’t allow him even a glimpse of the world outside, or even tell him what the date or time is. He felt a sadness after his fury had subsided, he had been in proximity with someone, another life form and he had been unable to even acknowledge it. One day he woke to find a tray already slid under his door, this tray had a note on it and a small object wrapped in brown paper. He picked the note up off the tray and read the note carefully;

“You know you are guilty. We know you are guilty. Your family knows you are guilty. The entire nation knows you are guilty. You only have one hope of retaining any semblance of respectability in this life. Don’t make a mess.”

He dropped the note, his hands trembling, he had forgotten he had ever had a family. He felt his entire will, his very spirit shatter at that moment, he looked back down at the metal tray and picked up the small brown packaged object, he slowly undid the strings that held the paper together. In the small ball of wrappings was a ball of paper towels, in the middle of the towels was a single, fresh razor blade. He held the small blade in his hand for a moment hand still shaking, then he felt a calm fall over him and his hand slowly steadied. He took a look around his room, the grey walls that had trapped his mind for so long, had caused it to turn on itself. He looked at the sad excuse for a bed that had caused him to be nearly paralyzed by the stiffness in his spine most mornings. He looked at his bathroom, the metal bucket that was thoroughly rusted on the inside from the accumulated waste matter it had held. He looked again at the razor blade, and when he did he smiled, not a smirk or a sneer, but an honest to goodness smile, his first in quite a while.