I gazed directly at the edginess walking slowly toward me. It’s not that I was daydreaming or counting the three pennies in my jeans pocket, no I looked straight ahead devouring scenes of early spring propelled upon dusty work boots, and over the city sidewalks I maneuvered around heaved concrete slabs listening as they sighed a late winter death rattle.

The sun was shinning, but not so brightly that I couldn’t see I was walking toward a hot mess of confusion and it toward me. If anyone else saw the eminent collision they failed that warm spring day to offer warning. I continued directly toward the menacing roar of belching anxiety, it spewing forth   plumes like a Chinese dragon extolling cheap fireworks dancing on blind legs.

Some say I was compelled to walk toward and to embrace the gooey promise of quiet as if I was an inanimate pile of metal shavings unable to resist the junkyard magnet, but I know that’s not the way it happened. I walked, then ran into the embrace of desolation masquerading as relief from the internal turmoil crashing around inside my thoughts. I opened wide fervently grasping for that slim moment of peace that comes from waking on the edge of consciousness and helplessly falling to oblivion.

The fall showered a cool balm throughout, forgetfulness spiked its wondrous salve deep within wrapping around the fire ragging inside my soul smothering all feelings and releasing me from my sins.

Exhausted with regret and the punishing pain about to invade my frail self I dragged my body home. The release I had welcomed would soon turn to torturous self loathing, and even now was planning to froth itself upon me.

Slide glass slide, rumble snap slide, jump jump shivers in my mind, when a man can not be free, I guess I just don’t know…….heroin be the death of me, heroin glass on glass, it’s my wife it’s my life…… then I’m better off dead…………..hit hit hit, then it begins to flow frosted glass syringe plunging deep, hungry vein, take me into purgatory.

These are my notes, written from purgatory, all day long I sit, wondering if I’ll ever get out, not really caring since I lost the key, I’m running away from you, running away from me, here in purgatory. Sliding, sliding into comatose rebellion against everyone not living in my junkyard, my filthy soul reeks with ache and disgust for all of you.

Sun rising onto another addiction morning, dusty scattered thoughts pleading to connect with one another here in purgatory, wake up wake up, screams my brain to my crouch, touching nerves thought long dead, finding one more way to stop the pain. It’s an early morning escape, here in purgatory.

Oh another day watching dream after dream go up in smoke, watching convictions blow away, bitting the dust here in purgatory. Pour a cup of Joe loosen up aged joints so my aim will be straight when I vomit up anxious guilt, then another cup of Joe so my aim is straight as I smash into my vein, erasing the pain, here in purgatory

Sins upon sins visited upon me cause I’m the son of the father who’s father loved to spike a bottle upside some girls head just to hear a scream, cause it shook him out of his dream, shook him out of living in purgatory. What can shake me out of my stupor, what can stop the screeching blood filled yells inside my head, who can I hit, here in purgatory.

Can’t wait for my next drink can’t wait for my next line, can’t wait to flash a spoon and spit into the moon, cause I’m dying here in purgatory, without you.

Don’t come back to me cause I’ll sing to you songs of feeling and I’ll pull you into sin. I’ll drag you down into the black of death and not let go till your eyes glaze with fire and you die with me, here in purgatory.

I will smile and extend a hand to you, smiling as you enter this stinking sewer, this lost paradise of addiction, join me and we’ll know warmth we’ll hear colors and see sounds of angels singing us to sleep. Join me, join me here in purgatory.

some of the phrases within the first paragraph are mixed and inspired by Heroin – a Lou Reed song.

I wretched with aplomb, spewing my guts out upon newly mowed lawn, mixing toxic with the summer smells grass and blossoms give up. More then cheap burgundy spewed forth as I leaned on the quiet elm for support, anxiety attached to shattered dreams convulsed desperately, joining the wine exiting my body. Again and again my stomach twisted itself trying to reverse another night of drinking. All I cared about was the nightly ritual ending  and getting some sleep, the elm just watched in silence not passing judgment not leaving me, alone.

A few hours earlier, I had been sitting at a local dive listening to Billy Joel or maybe it was someone else, I didn’t care. I only wanted the bartender to keeping filling my glass with a hearty burgundy, I was hungry to feel the grapes slide down my throat sending alcohol shivers throughout my body,  anesthetizing me from myself, erasing the cheap chalkboard my life had become.

“Another round Joe”? The bartender said, a tooth pick balancing on his cracked lip, I looked straight through him without answering , gazing at my own reflection in the mirror behind the bar, wondering who I was looking at or maybe wondering what I was looking at. “Another round Joe” the bartender said placing his hand on my shoulder and shaking me just a little. “Sure” I said, “fill it up.” the bartender topped off my glass and took two bucks from the pile of ones laying in front of me.

At first I didn’t know she was talking to me, “buy me a drink” floated into my consciousness from somewhere but I didn’t connect with it. Again. “buy me a drink” took up space around me and I turned my head to see a woman old enough to be my mother sitting next to me, she smiled pushing a little piece of crumpled paper into my hand and again said, “buy me a drink.” I signaled the bartender who was already bringing what looked like a double on the rocks, he picked through the pile of ones taking what he needed and retreated. “Thanks hon” dribbled out from behind the glass.

Without my asking she told me her name was Abagail. I looked into her eyes and saw nothing so I looked down at the piece of paper she had shoved into my hands. On the paper was her name and some letters and numbers, it said FWO21. I wasn’t sure what it meant but I knew she was looking to hook up and at this point in the night even I would do, even the bi-speckled drunk at the end of the bar would do.

Looking up from the cryptic note and into her eyes once more, I saw even less then nothing I saw my own reflection, and not wanting to keep looking at myself I raised my hand touching her neck, gently I tugged her toward me till our lips met in a wet embrace of booze and cigarettes. Her tongue burst into my mouth as if it was exploding, it took up so much space I thought I would choke, then just as quickly she pulled it back into her own mouth signaling me, to tongue her. I snickered a bit at this but went ahead and filled her up, she bit down and sucked like I could not believe, and then released me. All the while our mouths plundered the other our hands were desperately pulling at the other, our hands touched the other with loneliness and sadness. We sucked each others mouth in desperation, knowing our lives were winding down. We both touched the other but were really grabbing at our own lost dreams.

“Time to go Joe” interrupted our making out, “gotta close up, Joe” the bartender proffered. I grabbed Abagail’s hand leading her outside, she pulled me to her car where she opened the rear door, then she crawled in and beckoned me to join her. For ten minutes we kissed and ground the coffee, into dark dust laced with tears.

I wretched with aplomb, embracing the stars on a warm summer evening.

I got snow in my shoe melting, like my heart melts when I’m thinking of you.

I got snow in my shoe melting, salty like my tears of joy when I”m thinking of you.

I got snow in my shoe melting, like wax on the candle I carry for you.

Snow in my show, snow in my shoe, oh, you know how it feels when I have snow in my shoe and your not there.

Look for  me with snow in my shoe when your dreaming of clouds high over mountains and deep in the valleys. Look for me in back alley drawings and in the bottom of tea cups. I’ll be the guy with snow in his shoe.

Oh, I feel your heat your cold your love your indifference all rolled up in the sweetness  of the berries you lay at my feet. Crawl to me, crawl on me till you find what you looking for, I’ll be there when your heart melts, I’ll be the guy with snow in his shoe.

No need to reply cause I know, I know how you sleep,  I know how you weep I know.  I know how you smile, I know how you eat I know.

I got snow in my show melting salty painfully wet frozen slushy. I got snow in my shoe.

Background Refrain

The refrain in the background “Heroin” grabs my backbone, I sit straight up my left fingers reaching to caresses industrial tan monitor shell.

Lips pursed moving closer to the digital screen connecting me to the universe. Tongue licking glass trying to get in.

Again “Heroin” enters my bleeding ears sending orgasmic warmth into my chest into my crotch, “Heroin”.

Chills ramp through my body in both directions as I run ten fingers through my matted greasy hair, letting out a plaintive moan all drooling sexy.

Like a cardboard junkie I arch my chest rosteeresque, hands sliding from hair to nipples then knead stomach into a rounded shape relishing my touch.

“Heroin” naked behind my eyes everything turns maple syrup, walls melting couch rising up to receive my body.

“Heroin” hugs with the touch of my first lover all giddy, sliding glass against glass watching myself repeat it repeat it repeat it.

Sickly flame flickering melting my mind running out of time spent my last dime.

“Heroin” draining from my mind over taking my frightened fragile soul.

I guess I just don’t care I guess I just don’t care “Heroin” got me by the balls.

“Heroin” in the background of my mind, crawling under my skin crawling on the floor.

Can we go again, can we go again?

a bit of flash and a bit of poetry… entitled

Oh Come On!

What’da mean what am I saying
I don’t need no sing song rhythm to get past the wax
You understood me when I said your fat
So slow to get out the door, always stopping to breathe
You know what I mean, you know what I mean
Stop the show I want to get off, stop the car I want to get out
Stop the fucking planet so you can get your lazy self off
Off to another galaxy where whining will seem new
Off to merge with the difference you crave and whine so much about
Gotta be new, gotta be hip, gotta be now sister, gotta be right now.
Ain’t no time to be bored, gotta be floored, gotta be seen.
Who I am, I’m the man you got walking behind you picking it all up
Ain’t no time for sugar, Ain’t no time just gotta be you gotta be seen
Gotta be new, Gotta be hip, gotta be now sister, gotta be right now

Sometimes really hearing what other are saying can give us the loud whack we need to listen to ourselves. Today’s 100 word story is entitled Of Course Silly, Enjoy!

Of Course Silly

Delilah floated from group to group kissing the pretty while patting the shoulder of the ugly.

She excitedly told me her sobriety blossomed at the AA meetings when treating everyone equal.

“Oh Delilah, do you hear yourself” I’d ask? Touching my forearm she inflected, “of course silly” then float back into the crowd.

Meeting over, we joined friends for a late supper at Gremlins.

I started to order when the waitress spilled water on me, Delilah grabbed her forearm shouting “you stupid bitch.”

“Delilah do you hear yourself” I asked? “Of course silly’ she inflected, adding “what should we order?”

Bigots and Beer

Grandfather and Lenny Bruce arm and arm on the sidewalk smoked a joint.

Like clock work local members of the KKK marched, shouting their venom at Catholic’s and Jew’s alike.

Grandfather stepped to spit when Lenny grabbed his arm pulling him into the local Irish dive for a pint.

Steps behind, my Grandmother did the spiting, then walked to church.

Dad, his blond hair full of ringlets protected from the scene by his seven sisters, was ushered past the bar and bigots.

The irony, despite protection my dad would drink too much, learning to covet his own bigotry and hate.

What might have been or could have been seem to take up lots of space in our lives. Today’s 100 word story is entitled Underground Chocolate, Enjoy!

Underground Chocolate

Breathing imperceptibly while picking the lock at Underground Chocolate, Sally slipped inside.

Giddy with anticipation Sally gave herself a hug and asked “ where’s the new chocolate?” The silence gave her the permission she sought.

Opening a box containing 6 truffles Sally allowed the intoxicating aroma to engulf her, bringing forth a tear of happiness.

Gently Sally rubbed a truffle around her lips till finally her teeth pierced the delicate shell, releasing a cascade of rich decadent chocolate into her mouth.

Sally was the first outsider to taste this new chocolate, this new self-indulgence.

It was worth all the risk.

There is always someone who gives a gift that we refuse. Today’s Daily Dose is about accepting the gift, it is entitled Neon Sobriety.

Neon Sobriety

Grudgingly I sat down, overhead lights casting cheap neon shadows onto the pealing paint.

Jim’s yellow eyes and jaundiced skin repulsed me as he spoke about his kidneys and liver, useless because of alcohol abuse. The last day was today, to share his story.

His stare bored into my skull, anxiety invading every cell of my being, emotions raw and exploding inside of me.

His story of struggle spoken just for me. I wanted to run away, if I left I would be exiled I would be drunk again.

So I sat.

His last words touched me, giving me sobriety

Things changing as simple as the drive-through being closed can cause a massive rearrangement in our life. Today’s Daily Dose 100 word story is entitled Donut Binge and looks at change with a bit of humor, Enjoy!

Donut Binge

Easing my head up from the pink formica table I noticed my hands covered in powered sugar. Large empty donut boxes their lids open mocked me. A waitress shaking in the corner starred at me in shock.

Slowly and through a sticky glazed haze I remembered.

Earlier and barely awake I stumbled to my car, drove to the donut shop. The drive through had been closed. I was forced to go inside.

While placing my order 100 different donuts began singing their siren song. I grabed the counter and tried to turn away.

You know the rest of the story.