| Title: | My attempt at fiction: |
| Posted On: | 2007-04-16 22:23:37 |
Finally! FUCK!
Taking a much anticipated PISS after running away from a short lived "party". Pissing at 1:54 am on a Tuesday night. Pissing after an excruciatingly long, 45 minute bus ride (come on! come on!), holding the tide in as my bladder rips at the seams. Pissing after fidgeting and twitching and generally pressing my legs together in a futile attempt to hold the forces between my legs at bay. Pissing after clenching my fists, holding it in through gritted teeth. (hurry hurry!) Pissing after jumping out of the barely parked bus. Pissing after 3 and a half bloody minutes spent running in the blistering cold to find a suitable spot (privacy, privacy at all times). Pissing after nearly peeing myself on the run, bolting to the nearest industrial sized garbage can. Pissing after clumsilly popping my fly down in violent urgency. And it doesn't come out, or "whip" out - it fucking EXPLODES from my trousers.
Aaaaaah.
Pissing like all my problems are emptying out into this forgotten corner. Pissing. Sublime. Pissing. Numbing any and all of my existential demons with this physical crescendo. This is just, aaah. ZEN! The last few drops bring closure to this wonderful cleansing and then it's back to the bleak, black nite. Silence. There is no wind. No cars. No people. Just buildings, streets, and the sound of blood pumping through my head. Just darkness. And it's cold. Cold like paralysis, like i don't wanna move, like i wanna lay down and sleep right here and never wake up. I wish for my bed and my covers and not having to walk 25 minutes to get to them.
Cold like i don't wanna walk home, i just wanna pee forever. Peeing as a state of inebriation. Altered consciousness. Complacency. Contentment. Denial.
I zip it up. My hands are are already freezing. Cold, rigid, pink fingers stare up at me, useless and vulnerable. I stuff them in my pockets and get a move on.
It's the simple things in life. It really is.
***
Another night.
I'm high, high up on this bridge and looking down at my sad, quiet, sedated town. Looking at the lost cars coming and going like aimless bugs in this darkness. Looking down, i see it all. Street lamps glowing yellowish orange. I imagine this whole city aflame. Safe, up here. I watch it all go down. There is no sound except for the flames licking the air, eating and grasping to consime the very sky. I'm listening to "Tales of a Scorched Earth" by the Smashing Pumpkins. I feel larger than life, bigger, stronger and more powerful than reality. I give in to my fantasies, like a junkie seduced by another hit.
And now i see you crawling to me, crawling up this bridge, my bridge. Your scared, don't wanna burn like the rest. Death is now a mist that you can taste, and death is now a bomb and you got only moments left. And here you are, calling to me, wanting to spend these precious last seconds with me. 3.. 2.. 1.. Stop. This town burning to a morbid end, your world dissolving - you need someone, like a helpless dying dog. I knew when the apocalypse came you'd come to me. I always new it. It might be over. but finally your mine. A thing to be remembered and held on to in the lonely labyrinth of eternitiy. Remember your pleading eyes and desperate hands. That kiss i cast on your angelic head. Beautiful hair. You smell like... I hope it stains you well, forever embedded in you - like you in me. Somehow twisted, entwined, i want us bound, the forever damned. Think of me like i think of you. Die for me like i die for you.
It's the end of the world as we know it, and i feel fine. All it took was death to bring you closer to me. The end is our beginning. You and me. The city crumbles in the fire, and i just stare, enthralled. Here on this birdge, i am God.
