Creating Controversy

I have reached a personal point of internal conflict about writing. I have come to the conclusion that the difficulty associated with writing something with substance versus writing something that is less meaningful is a constant struggle for developing writers. I have many friends who write about music, art, culture, film and other areas of entertainment but encounter lackluster attention when it comes to their blogs, their websites, their poetry, or even short fiction. I refuse to become a typical industry standard writer who slaves away for a publication but also has to sacrifice personal style and development. I wish only to write with passion and display my literary talent. Is that too much to ask? Or should I relent and become an abscess on the blogosphere's body. Should I start writing short posts about tabloid news items or maybe just spew out controversy for the sake of a high readership count?

Maybe I should possibly fall into the typical journalistic structure and write about violence, death and sex. If it bleeds it leads right?

Shall I follow the dark annals of human existence into the abyss and recreate art that everyone wants to consume obsessively until I am no longer an artist but a conduit in which recycled material is put forth for the masses to digest over and over again like filth eaten from a trough. Or shall I keep to my path, even though the path gets dark and dusty and more than lonesome at times, shall I keep my dignity in this world of reduced thinking capacity and write with words that inspire art, music and get the reader to feel life with renewed vigor.

I will keep to the path of dignity and write for those who love to read art as it develops on the page. I leave you my friends with some poetic words about this struggle.


In the midst of the night,
All light is absent,
At its darkest,
The night is coldest,
I feel my skin bubble with goosebumps,
And the chill reach my bones,
Icy breath fills my lungs,
And sight is completely removed,
A faithfulness is required without sight,
To live and survive through the perilous night,
I await that glorious moment of the sun's first rays,
Every moment in the night is a step towards the first moment of day.

Midnight-In-A-Perfect-World

Falling Away Into You

"Hold me closer." She said, words slipping out of her mouth, serpentine yet innocent. Words uttered out of fear.

His arms squeezed her closer, as close as he could possibly get himself to her without them merging into each other. His hands tightly gripping her, their bodies wrapped up in each other. He wanted to say something comforting, something that would assure her everything would be fine. This wasn't a moment for lies, and he knew, silence would be better even though there was no comfort in it. He just left his mouth shut, lips tight, with his face in her neck and hers in his.

It was a Tuesday and he knew the time had come to leave. He spent so much time traveling and this shouldn't be any different than any of his other excursions, but something got under his skin this time. He didn't plan on feeling something, feeling like this. His wife was waiting for him at home, and he knew he loved her but this was different. Was it something new perhaps, or something unfamiliar that made it difficult to turn away from this young nymphet? He couldn't be sure why he hated leaving this time. He knew he wasn't anxious to get home because that would be the banal existence of a domestic life, cutting the lawn, watching television, reading books in bed with the wife, he always missed her but never anything like what he was feeling now.

Monday-June 16th-The Day Before

He arrived at 6 a.m. the earliest flight he could catch left Chicago at 2:35 a.m. and even though he was a seasoned traveler he never enjoyed early flights. His wife thought it strange he would be taking a flight so early but brushed it off because she knew his work took so much of his day. He was eager to get to Portland though, and hid it with a restrained glee.

The plane landed on the tarmac and he exited breathing in Portland and the rain, and her. He walked out of the airport and anxiously waiting was his little nymphet, Naima. She hadn't noticed him yet, she was holding a gently used copy of Lolita by Nabokov, and he smiled. He walked cautiously with a nonchalance that would allow him to blend into the sea of travelers. He stopped just a few feet away from her and asked, "Do you happen to have the time ma'am?"

She looked up, eyes brightening and gasped,  "You are here early, Beckett I wasn't expecting you for at least another 20 minutes."

"The flight left on time, I was surprised too. I am just glad to be here with you. You wanna get out of here...like ASAP?!" He urged impatiently and wanting to get her home and be with her.

"Of course" She replied. She grabbed him by his hand and led him towards her car. They got onto the highway and made the best time anyone could possibly make during the early morning rush hour, arriving at her place with the rain dancing lightly around them as they walked up to her door. She pulled her keys from her bag and opened the door and soon as the door opened she felt him wrap his arms around her and waited for his lips to follow. They embraced in the doorway his hands on her waist and lips locked, her leg wrapped around his, and the world passed by right outside the door.

The door finally closed and their embraced deepened, with clothes being torn off, a sensual embrace that lasted for hours and moved from table, to love seat, to floor, never quite making it to her bedroom. They had been lovers for months now, every time Beckett visited it was like this, passionate and close. They stayed up for hours wrapped up in each other, physically, mentally, emotionally. They spent time talking about their lives and dreams together. The dreams that people make when they plan to live together forever, and Naima loved these dreams, these plans. They spent this Monday just like all of the other days, falling in love deeper, and making plans to see each other again. Naima always hated when he left and it made her terrified that she would never see him again. But she always waited.

She lay awake watching him breathe and how his chest rose and fell as he slept. She loved to watch him and be near him, staying awake so she could be aware of him. She adored these moments and felt alive when she knew he was hers. She was waiting for all of his promises to come true, so he could live with her, and how she wouldn't have to say goodbye to him ever again. She sighed and felt impatient but she knew he was a man of his word.

It was getting late and she felt sleepy but she wanted to stay up for just a few moments longer lingering around his naked body. She got up to get a drink and noticed his wallet had come out of his pants and it was open, she hadn't quite even noticed the large fold filled with crisp new hundred dollar bills and the shimmer of each of his credit cards, but what she did notice was the only thing she could see and she couldn't tear her eyes away from it. A single photo caught her eye and rightly so, some other woman was holding him close and two children who looked surprisingly like him were also in the photo. She couldn't help but let tears come streaming out of her eyes, clouding her vision, taking her eyes away from the photo. She knew now why he hadn't already left Chicago, it had nothing to do with work keeping him there, and everything to do with betrayal. She cried in silence and thought to herself as she lay back down next to him.

Tuesday-June 17th-The Day of Departure

She knew this time was different. Hours from now Beckett would get on a plane and leave back to Chicago, back to that woman. She felt it in her body, in her spirit, the same part of her that allowed herself to love him still, that part of her felt him separating. She knew that him saying that he wouldn't be back for quite some time meant he was moving on and calling their love affair off. She just knew that this time he was planning on saying goodbye for good. That feeling of eternity was fading fast and she knew there was only one thing for her to do.

"I really wish I could come back sooner Naima, but I have so much to take care of before I can move back here. You understand, don't you?" Beckett stated with a forced emotional expression in his demeanor and on his face. He knew this was it, and for some reason he felt a tinge of fear, a tinge of sadness. This wasn't like his other love affairs. He was tied to this young nymphet, she was something more to him but he couldn't uproot his life and live with her, she knew him but she couldn't replace his wife and kids. He just had to let this one go and feel the pains of heartbreak just the way he was feeling it now.

"I understand, I just don't want to have to wait, I don't want to be apart from you again." She said quietly, sadly.

She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him into her bedroom. She pushed him onto the bed, crawling over his body, kissing his lips and pulling him into her. She moved him around on the bed, changing positions, until he lay on top of her, hard body against her soft skin. She breathed in his scent again, one last time. As he was soaring in the moment, their usual moment of ecstasy she let her hand travel, slithering behind her pillow. She pulled her hand back blade in hand with just enough time to stab him in his heart as he noticed what she had in her grip. Shock and fear were in his eyes, blood filled them as he choked out half words, blood spilled onto her and she kept the blade in him as he said he loved her, and as his life faded away and his eyes turned a sea of red she pulled the knife out of him and plunged it into her heart as well. She felt the sharp blade cutting her heart tissue just like that photo ripped her heart the night before. And as the world was coming to an end she professed her love for Beckett also, and she felt peace in knowing there would never be another goodbye between them again. They faded away together. Black beauty.

Becoming Beautiful

The early morning hours are slow like honey. I feel my blood coursing through my veins and I can feel each heartbeat, its so powerful, so loud I wonder if she would be able to hear it as well. The sun is just over the horizon lazily waiting to appear over the crest and I am anticipating its rise. I stop myself from getting anxious and I just stare out of my living room window. Another minute lost to forever and I stand here just looking out into darkness waiting for light.

As I stare out into what seems like oblivion I think of all the things that soon will be. I await that beautiful moment when life will be bursting forth from the seams. That light that will soon be cresting is every moment I feel waiting for time to pass so that I can be alone with you. Every waking moment is crushing, I go through the pains of getting dressed, tying my shoes, brushing my teeth, even eating is a chore, all meaningless moments devoid of feeling, I am present but only in the ghostly sense. These moments are robotic, I only do them because I have to and they will eventually lead me to you.

I walk the 28 steps from the front door to my car door. I open the car door, place keys in the ignition and turn the motor. The motor comes alive with a low rumble and hum, it moves and breathes and does all the things I do except I am supposed to feel like something more than a machine, yet these days its all I feel. Movements of stop, go, repeat, they all just blur into each other and all I can do to keep myself from going insane is remind myself that it is only temporary. Only one thousand, eight hundred and twenty five days left, only 43,800 hours, only 2,628,000 minutes left and I can feel each second as I am dragged along willingly but painstakingly.

Every night I dream of that moment, where the sun comes up on the horizon, on crystal blue waters and white sand beaches, and you, everything else is secondary. I see your face and it radiates with beauty that the sun could never replicate, I touch your hand and I feel home. I see your eyes and suddenly every moment that pained me and my life before is suddenly gone, not that I cannot remember them but erased, removed by that deep stare of bright blue eyes, I am looking at purity, at beauty my love, burning bright, twin flame.

Then suddenly an alarm goes off and I am torn from my comfort, my source of joy and I placed back into the monotony of life, drab existence, hues of gray and black making everything feel so dead, so far from everything I need. But I know that moments in time have us together, in the future, I can stand anything if I know its going to end. I am just waiting for everything to become beautiful again. I am waiting for you.


https://soundcloud.com/noosamusic/walk-on-by

Covenant

The covenant I wish to make. Holding hands, in our grasp we hold the decision of whether to mend or to break. Looking past the color of eyes, past the flesh and skin depth, seeing what is truly left when we are open, unclothed, naked, nothing left but our spirit or soul. That vision is what I aim to hold in my sight for all eternity, beauty in truth and in light, everything that has ever been a counterbalance to what is wrong, you are all that is right. I look to every moment that is in your grace, your presence is divine, and everything is in its right place. Tears hath no place in heaven and heaven is in your eyes. For futures sake, at your feet I will forever lie, may it be my destiny or my fate, my salvation or my demise. I will bleed endlessly if it means that no pain come your way, I will fight the bright of day for an extra hour of slumber for you, I will fight the dead of night and steal away the dark to lighten your day and heart. Move mountains is the least I can try, even if I move it stone by stone, I will do the work to gain my place, I will do the work to move that mountain to lift that tear from your face, I promise to do everyday until I die. In death I remain ever so committed, all my resolve requited for all my misgivings, shortcomings, lack of being, and lack of seeing. Faultless I am not, and will never claim to be, but for each fault, each crack, each mistake, I claim a lifetime of earnest in being, earnest in giving every gift of love, from understanding, to mending, to dedicating every moment to making you smile, I would crawl every inch of every mile to lift your head up and save your spirit, these things I can promise, I can vow, I give these things to you always, even now, this be the covenant I wish to give, the life I wish to share, the life I wish to live.

Love Sick Delirium

Part 3

As I lay bleeding, still and stoic, I am called out of my consciousness. Here I am defending my actions, she is pressing charges against my participation in said relationship. A trial by fire, a trial I am ill equipped for.

"Will the defendant please rise." The judge orders much more than asks.

I rise to my feet shaken and still aching in pain from the damage done by her withdrawal.

"How do you plead?" He enquires.

"Guilty, your honor." I state, without caution.

The courtroom is shocked. They collectively inhale gasping the air from without the room. I look over and she is equally shocked at my plea. The judge continues through the proceedings, going over my offenses before I am allowed to call any witnesses or simply allow for judgement to commence. The judge states that I am charged with neglect, painful withdrawal of support during states of emotional distress, quiet anger, lack of adoration, and other offenses not acceptable to this court. I have entered my plea and I am at the mercy of the courts harsh punishment. The time has come for my counsel to be allowed to call a witness or simply leave the jury to their job at judging my future. My counsel calls myself to the stand in my defense.

I rise again from my chair, which I have been dejectedly slumped over in and walk briskly over to the wooden gate, push forth and let it swing behind me with that thundering sound of it swinging behind me. That swinging sound is so damning, it brings to mind the gallows, swinging from rope, the floor opening beneath me, its terrifying, but my fate has not been decided yet. I am my last defense. I will have to state my case though I am reluctant to do so because I am guilty of all those things I am charged with and I only want justice for the heart of my love, justice and peace. Anyways I can bring her a smile, or place the hands of justice solely in her hands in my goal.

At first her counsel approaches the bench and asks me again how I plead. Once again I state guilty for the record. The accusing party points to the stenographer and asks the jury to make note of it as well. They stand down. My counsel approaches now and asks simply, "Do you have anything to state in your defense?"

I reply. "I do, and I would like to take this time to have the court and its attendants all hear my last words of apology and defense."

"Proceed" The judge beckons.

"First, I would like to apologize to the court for bringing everyone to such a place where this trial would be necessary. It would be like me to not recognize an issue before it becomes a legal liability and for that I am eternally apologetic. I did not however, come to the witness stand to apologize for that or for specific things I did throughout this relationship that I would like to make atonement for now. It is too late and I recognize that. I am sorry though for things being too late, more of an apology for myself and the one I love. So I am brought here with the charges of neglect, painful withdrawal during states of emotional distress, quiet anger and lack of adoration amongst many more other offenses. I acknowledge these all and take responsibility for this all. Be it my judgement that I should pay with my life, then so be it, that be my fate. The only thing I must say in my defense is this. Although I have failed many times over with the one I have stated to love, I know that there is nothing I can do to retract the pain I have put out. This is my fault and I will live with the guilt of knowing that no matter my sentence here I will always know the pain I have caused her and how I damaged our relationship. Now with all apologies aside I ask of you, (looking at her now as she has her head hung down), to look at me and remember some things with me. They might not be so noteworthy and you might not know about everything I am talking about, they might not even be of consequence to you but to me these things meant the world."

"If you could recall the times when I lay there motionless in the middle of a dark night, sleepless and utterly tired just so that you might be comfortable with your leg wrapped around me and body close in a peaceful slumber. If you could please recall every time I literally bled for you, either after picking roses or being reckless with myself in order to protect you from the smallest of injuries. If you could recall each time I suffered through tireless toil in order to make sure you were well taken care of. If you could recall each moment that I spent thinking about you and how much I wanted for you to be comfortable. If you could recall each time I lay awake listening to you breathe when we had too much to drink just so I could make sure that you were breathing right. If you could recall the time I have invested in you and our relationship, our love, your well being, us. If you could recall the very day I set aside everything else just to be near you, with you, part of your life. Would you please remember when we first sat alone in dark summer night looking out into the stars, looking into each other, seeing past the exterior and falling in love. I would do all of this all over again, even now as we both stand here to be present at my judgement. I would do it a million times over even if it didn't change the outcome of today. I would live through the struggle, the pain, the uncertainty, the confusion, the anger, and the heartache just to have experienced those things with you. I have sinned and have not been as I should have been in our time together. The one thing I do know is that I love you endlessly, even after the flood. I love you.

"Please step down sir." The judge asks.

I look over at her and she looks away but I almost sense a bit of reluctance to throw me to the hands of those who would judge me so harshly.

The judge asks the jury to deliberate after hearing both sides of each counsel. I look over at the jury and each of the twelve jurors are her. She is there in every persona she has ever exhibited in our relationship. Sorrow, Frustration, Helplessness, Loneliness, Exhilaration, Hysteria, Fear, Unloved, Unconditional Love, Hope, Tolerant, Patient are all present and they exit the room as they get ready to cast their vote on my future.

They sit in the room mulling over all of the evidence that was presented. They each cast their vote weighing the options of what would be best for my future and the state of my heart.

I begin to go over in my mind what the outcome would be. Sorrow as I would expect would vote in favor of punishment. Frustration, another vote against me, Helplessness, another, Exhilaration marks the first vote in my favor. Hysteria, another vote against me, Fear once more a vote against me, Unloved could go either way, for fear of being unloved and feeling that way during our tumultuous relationship. Unconditional love would possibly vote in my favor. Loneliness could go either way, Hope another in my favor, Tolerant in my favor, and Patience the last one in my favor. It is desperation I cling to now.

The jury exits after hours of deliberation. Fear washes over my entire being as I see each one of them reach their seats in complete silence.

"All rise." The judge orders.

"Has the jury reached a verdict?" The judge asks.

"We have your honor they echo in unison." All twelve of her says.

"The votes are as listed; Sorrow votes guilty, Frustration votes guilty, Helplessness votes guilty, Hysteria votes guilty, Fear votes guilty, Hope votes not guilty, Tolerant votes not guilty, Exhilaration votes not guilty, Unconditional Love votes not guilty, Patience votes not guilty, Loneliness votes not guilty, Unloved votes not guilty. We find the defendant after much deliberation not guilty, acquitted of all charges." She says solemnly.

I jump to my feet excited and absolutely thrilled that I am not guilty she has found it in her heart to forgive me and has erased blame from me even though I feel just as guilty as before. I walk out of the courtroom, a bittersweet victory. She has removed the noose from around my neck and as I breathe free once more with no fear of the gallows to claim my life and my neck I feel a slight reprieve. Still the endless tears of nights alone I face, still my heart torn and tattered, still my love lies bleeding, beautiful as the flower itself but my heart can barely bring itself to beat.

As I am leaving the courtroom I am sulking quietly, I feel a tap on my shoulder and quickly turn around. She finally looks at me and we both shed tears out of newfound loneliness, confusion and misery. She kisses my forehead gently we laugh nervously and kiss on the lips softly. We say to each other how much we missed each other and how much we love each other. Its nice to be in your arms again I tell her and she nods quietly in agreement. I couldn't be happier. I fall to my knees and apologize profusely. We embrace again, I am home. Still in each hearts we reside, never have we left this place, dark it was without the rays of beauty that break the coldest waves of fear. Shallow pools of tears would have claimed my life was it not for your gentle embrace and rescuing grace, left without you, memories I did hold onto, grasp, grip, and cling, you forever were and forever will be my everything. Holding hearts hand in hand, never again will this rift expand, closing wounds and sharing souls, in your hands my heart you do hold.

As we walk out of the court together, arm in arm. I am drawn out of myself and land violently on my couch awake again. It was all a dream and she is still gone. I cry again to myself. I has been 89 hours. I don't know how much more I can take.

Love Sick Delirium

Part 2

Ok So I start thinking about the last few years and maybe things weren't always as easy as they could have been and I definite now that I wasn't always as good to her as I should have been. It starts to set in, the realization that this is not entirely a sudden impact but rather a building of issues that slowly eroded away at our foundations until there was nothing but a crumbling outline of what used to be a happy home. I sit here thinking about picking up my used glass of scotch and refilling it again, or maybe walking to the corner store to pick up another pack of cigarettes, but self imposed destruction isn't quite something that I feel I want to do to myself right now, I am already in so much pain it would be almost too much to bare. I decide to stew in my own misery and look blankly into the television set. Its been about 20 hours and I go from fear that she won't call to anger and now I am sitting here baffled that she hasn't contacted me, no email, no phone call, and no text. All of the world has gone silent, the chatter has ceased and I can hear my labored breathing. Solitude you are my unwelcome guest I can only hope you do not stay here long.

Over 26 hours have passed and time is non-existent here where I am. I am sitting in my space, watching as things come tumbling down in front of me. There is no meaning here and I am completely alone, even my thoughts have fled this moment. I couldn't even think of sleep as of now, it would be too comfortable, too soothing and I am not quite sure but I do think that I am not deserving of that luxury.

47 hours and now things are starting to get interesting. I start thinking of all the things I would say to her if she were here right now. I begin thinking of all the things I would do or say if she were on the phone. Not so strange in and of itself but the part that has me worried is that I start imagining all the things she would say to me if she saw me this way, what she would say if she were here or even on the phone. One second I am smiling sadly to myself imagining her voice the other I am hearing her berate me for being so depressed.

"What are you doing? Are you Crying? Or is it that you want to cry? Why don't you cry for once, be a man, do something other than sit there thinking to yourself about everything. Such a person of action, why don't you grow up? Oh wait, did I go too far? I don't think I have gone far enough. You brought this all upon yourself you know...." She says.

"I know, I know, I am sorry, stop yelling at me, stop please. I didn't mean for things to end up this way." I cry

Suddenly her voice is gone and I am looking up at an empty room that only makes me ball worse. I cherish even our arguments that I imagine. I could only dream of asking her for forgiveness and being able to look into her eyes.

Delirium has long since set in and from the lack of sleep I have become increasingly detached from reality. I am now listening to all of our albums that we purchased together. I pull a vinyl out of the sleeve with half lit cigarette dangling from my lips dangerously, as ash falls from cigarette to the album covers. I lay the vinyl down without caution let the needle drop onto the grooves and turn the volume up to unnatural levels. 73 hours now and I have been listening to music for so long I can't remember when the last time I had a drink of water was and the last time I went to the restroom. I have been imbibing spirits liberally for hours and vomiting when my body can handle no more. I still hear her and what she might say or do, especially when one of her favorite songs is played. I hear her voice singing along to the songs, I remember the first time we heard those songs. I sat on the couch watching her mouth move and we let the sounds drown out everything that was going on around us. The memories are like small earthquakes shattering my world again and again.

There is a knocking outside. I am afraid to answer. I am not sure why, I have nothing illegal and nothing to hide but there is something menacing about the way they are knocking at the door. I don't like people knocking at my door this way. I haven't slept, I am far too drunk to speak and I do believe I smell badly. I will have to take a shower now before I can answer the door. I run to the restroom terrified of the person on the other end of that door. I get undressed in a paranoid state looking around everywhere. Not sure what I am looking for but it might be there just right outside my peripheral vision. I climb into the shower and douse the scent of alcohol, tobacco and fear off of me. I am feeling better, almost sleepy.

"Crrrracccckkkkkkkk" The door explodes. Sounding like one of those overdramatized action movies with wood splintering all over my apartment knocking things over as men in uniforms are running towards me. At first I think I am hallucinating, but no its real men with guns drawn, its all over now. Some rush towards me others are perusing around my apartment looking through stuff, turning down the volume on my stereo system while shouting words at me. I can hear nothing right now, everything has become a dull buzz and I cannot understand anything they are saying. They are in my face asking me things I cannot answer. My only response to everything they say and do is to shake my head from left to right. Minutes later there are EMT's poking and prodding me still asking questions I have no response for. Finally after examining me like a criminal in some interrogation room they leave me be. They write on a piece of paper that I am not allowed to play my music so loud and to quit setting off the buildings fire alarms with excessive cigarette smoke. A disaster averted, I walk naked to my couch sit down and stare into the blank television set, its been almost 88 hours now.

Its almost time I go to court.

Love Sick Delerium

Part 1

The room temperature is wringing sweat from my body. I am awash in electrolytes setting comfortably on my skin. My tongue is a desert, and my chest comes up short of a full breath. Heavy humidity hangs above my skin like flannel sheets. These summer nights are cooler than the oven heat filled days that I am accustomed to, and this heat bearing down on me is a fleeting glimpse of comfort compared to the waking hours I will endure soon enough.

How anyone can concentrate, live, function, or think in this God forsaken climate is a complete mystery to me. To make matters worse, these last 87 hours, 32 minutes and 56 seconds have been pure misery. Not because of heat, sweat, humidity, or the lack of air movement, but thats when she took my apartment key from her keychain after a lengthy crying spell and placed it on my countertop and left with the door still ajar. I could hear each deliberate footstep hammering down the stairwell, hear her open her car door, hear the faulty ignition struggle to turn and lastly hear the tires move along the gravel as she drove away. A cacophonous misery that got louder as she drove further from my heart, my home and my eyes.

Her love is a searing serrated knife plunged deep into my chest and stinging, burning, cutting as it enters, its almost a soothing pain as it rests in my chest cavity and solders my capillaries and veins shut from the heat. Still and unmoving it doesn't hurt, I can function everyday with the knife of her love and no blood escapes unless I writhe in pain. Its best just to sit in that moment of stillness that is her piercing love and let her penetrate my rough exterior, seeking my heart, and seeking my soul. The problem is I fear when her love grows cold and moments have her in just a way that she might think to withdraw her love from my pitch black soul, and aching and shriveling heart. Just a single second of a thought and I can feel the blades serrated edges tear at my flesh slowly, droplets of blood form around my love wound. Then finally the day that had kept me shuttered in distress arrives knocking at my door wildly, violently and all too suddenly. The knife so quickly plunged to my heart and sinking me into a deep amorous slumber of love and pain never known is reversed this day, but not so quickly this time.

"As it went in, it shall not come out."

She says to me with her cruel but beautiful eyes. I see her grasp the handle and twist once to the left turning my body down towards the floor. I hang there limp like a rag doll slumped over to one side. I am without control, totally at the whims of my lover, my assailant. She slowly pulls one serrated edge out away from my tearing flesh with blood rushing forth soaking my clothes, I am drenched. She pulls another serrated edge out closer to her, she pulls one by one staring me in the eye as she crushes me and tears my heart in two. Then its done, suddenly she pulls the last of the knife out at once, I drop to the floor in relief and in pain. I lay on the ground silent, she has pulled her heart, her love away from me. She pockets the knife of her love, storing it away for another day when might assail me once more, I hope, or possibly use her devilish weapon against another. I lay in my own blood, loveless, lifeless, motionless, I am stained.

The first 6 hours I spent jumping down the neck of a bottle of scotch almost in pleasure but mildly afraid that I might not hear from her that night. Watching television with the air conditioner on full blast as the air blew recklessly around my single room studio apartment. The ice in my glass would not melt before my next drink, stumbling and incoherent I lay on my couch staring down onto my phone watching for the backlight on the display to come alive. I stare forever it seems but nothing comes of it. Dejected and terribly inebriated I fall into a drunken sleep that would only be interrupted by the air conditioner making some awful screeching sound before grinding to a stop and smoke rising from its burned out motor. I poured another glass of scotch downed it one fell swoop and returned to my slumber.

I wake up halfway expecting to feel her arm draped over my chest as she lay sleeping peacefully, eyes closed tight, hair resting on the soft features of her face. Instead I wake in a pool of my own sweat, I am dripping, I smell of scotch and body odor and even though I see some of her things laying around on the coffee table I can't sense her presence, her energy is gone. So now I am done hoping that my phone starts ringing begin to get a little angry. Why should I feel so guilty, I did as much as I could. I was always there, I loved unconditionally, I worked just as hard as she did in this relationship. I stay angry lighting cigarette after cigarette, drawing in the smooth layers of smoke and letting them sit in my lungs, commiserate for a while and then exhale sharply. After about 3/4 of a pack of cigarettes I resign my anger and sit there staring at her hair tie on the coffee table, longing for her to come back home.