Deep, Dark, and Sweet

Here I am, good ol OD.  It’s been a little while since last we saw each other…but here I am.  It’s been a rough two days that have basically left my mind a twitter, since two days ago I was up until 3:00 at the airport picking up a guest.  Got up at 6:30 for work and plunked through the day…then we had a huge drinking party last night cuz we all just wanted it…and I got drunk drunk drunk, watched American Idol and saw my boy win, cried a little, had some pizza, and laid on the couch battling insomnia until 3:00 again.

It made me feel awful.  Not just sick, but just, the night was such a god damn bust.  Rachel has this way of making you feel like shit with her over-dramatic nature, it’s always loathing and always serious…it’s not so over-the-top that you can just ignore it, and the fact of the matter is I can take a lot of shit heaped on me, but I can’t take it all.  I’m not sure I really want to talk about it except to say that my favorite roommate has solidified his status and I officially want to pound Ron’s face into the wall.  I’m not all that proud of Rachel either.  It’s not like I want anything out of it, but when I see anyone, even relative strangers who have better class end up fawning over Ronnie fucking Funtime it makes me puke…..

This is what is most upsetting especially when you have to listen to it cuz you can’t sleep….I eventually had to stuff a pillow ontop of my head to drown it out.  But here’s the thing, whenever I bring girls back from the airport (all three times), I get the same response, I get called a player and Ron calls that he’ll fuck em.  It’s ridiculous.  So, very well aware of this I cock-blocked by telling Rachel this in private…and it only encouraged her.  That’s stupid.  Real god damn stupid.  It makes me miss my dear, so that I could have someone I respect a little more and who shares my distastes (for the most part). 

I dont’ mean this selfishly, but it’s really embarrasing to know people like that.  And I know a lot of embarrassments that I spend my time believing deeply in who only go around fucking up like idiots.  Sure sure, my life is not their life, but dealing with a stranger you’ve know for a day who is using you for your vagina is not a sign of a well thought out life, anyway.  Living a life fucking women is not a good life either….living most lives that people live are pretty shallow and awful…but I guess I prefer that if you’re going to not aspire to greatness, don’t aspire to be infamous or depraved.  I’m not a prude…I welcome everyone into this world and enjoy the company of most, but I think using other people, seeing them as things, ugly tools for your own personal gratification is disgusting and makes me sick….

What kind of bleeding sweet liberal heart do I have?  On one hand I could shoot most people dead, I have a violent streak a mile wide that no one has seen (a glimpse came last night when everyone was talking over me, telling me how drunk I was and they kept ignoring me though I was asking an important question…and finally I got so tired I stood up and shattered my chair on the ground.  It was not a bright thing to do.  But it felt very good.  I wish the ground had been Ron’s face. 

I wonder who would win in Mark’s eyes.  I’m thinking I might have surpassed Mark’s love for Ron…and it would be good to get rid of that douchebag, but we’ll see.  He’s not awful, he’s just not a good human being.  He finds only himself impressive and tries to make others feels ugly.  I don’t get down when he insults me or when he hits me or when he tells me I’m a moron, I get down knowing that in the eyes of the people I want to make feel better about themselves my own image is so low that I don’t have any power to make them feel good…do you know what I mean.  I really don’t want to talk about this, but I’m getting it out here as a debate sort of thing…I want to know what you think about all this….that is the point of these, to be told to f off or to keep going…..that was poorly worded but I’ve had six hours of sleep over the last two days.

X:Men: The Last Stand tonight.  Horrid reviews recently came in.  Worries me.  Another night where I get four hours of sleep.  Shoot me in the f’ing face.

DEEP, DARK, and SWEET (An Extemporaneous Poem)

I love like a travelling wind:

Hot against the skin prickling wet little droplets, sticky and prickly, pricking skin,

Red like jealousy, the wind of the endless desert angry at the orange flame sun

Showing her to everyone, and impotent as anything to hide and bury with little grains of sand stirred free.

Everyone should certainly see her, beauty is meant for every eye and hope is meant for every heart

But eyes wind through their way to a brain which winds back other things, creeping spider things

That make crosswinds, gusty, filthy, smelling of any old garbage heap of any junkyard,

They do not love at all these breezes, but simply touch the skin to see how it can turn and bend things,

They love like a tornado, bent on breaking, wrathful, the false majesty, the strutting of pomposity and power,

See how great they are, rending asunder metal with a screech like dying souls splitting as they descend to Hell,

But when it’s over they’ve destroyed the thing, like a virus they absorb the refuse corpses and move on,

And I love like a travelling wind,

And sad it is that romantic as I am, I know now blowing for so long across the wet, sweaty skin,

That a travelling wind in dreams does cool and content a soul, and stirs memories with the little lithe leaves,

It satisfies carrying orange smell, lilac trees, fresh grass and rain,

A travelling wind in dreams brings dreams, bids dreams to build, bids clouds to come down,

Settle a shadow across the skin so that the eyes can rest and see without aching everything,

But I love like a travelling wind,

Real and cool, soft and gentle in the night like a blanket of ghost hands running along,

Angels saying it’s all right, close your eyes and trust for once and know that it isn’t belief but truth,

You will wake.  You will smile.  You will dream a little while and well.

And lucky as a travelling wind can be, sometimes I find a fair wanderer touched and turned

And living longer to remember it and smile,

No death, no ugliness, no power between us beyond the power of an encouraging touch,

The power of deep love, the dark love that comes in the night without eyes and only questing, gentle hands

Pressed against cool, strange, smooth skin like marble, and a slight taste of sweet.

Lucky must the travelling wind be to find those that let it in and know it,

It is not romantic but tragic, then, for the world has walls that stop it, and push it away,

And it cannot go through doors, it does not knock, it simply goes away, wanting a moment,

Getting none, and moving on.