(no subject)
"With my head upon your knee, half of its you, half is me"
I’m packed and have no real idea of where I’m going or even what I’m doing. The last night was the worst. From the mental exhaustion to the painful goodbye, none of it is easy to forget. I knew I had to get out before my carcass and soul were turned inside out from the guilt he constantly placed upon my body, but I thought that the love I had for him would keep me together while my lip was bleeding down my chin. But for every apology I gave him for not being everything he wanted, part of me would die. Still, I kept apologizing for not giving into his authority as much he might have wanted. "I’m sorry." Those were the last words I uttered to him as I closed the door behind me and walked out of his life forever. He was the best addiction I had. The highs were high and the lows, well, they were really fucking low. My days at work were long and he never understood the meaning of real work. He never understood my tacit agreement to society. He believed he owned my contract. So finally I decided I was going to break this contract and pay the consequences. Now standing on the street corner with two ratty old bags and my hat in hand I wait in anguish for my ride.
Over the last 10 years I’ve become friends with a kid I met back in school. Tom was always a little, well, freaky. A junkie drop out who didn’t give a shit what you thought, as long as he was happy. I loved him as soon as I met him. To put it simply, he’s everything I’ve wanted. I have never told him that I loved him and have always gotten a rush from him that I could never get from anyone else. This rush that I yearned for is why I told Tom I was leaving and I wanted him to come with me. I figured if I had him with me he could help me deal with the withdrawal symptoms I was starting to feel shutter down my spine.
Late, as usual. But what can you expect from a junkie. The car is full of smoke with the same old smashed out right headlight. Swerving slightly he drives over the curb and rolls down the window. The smoke fills my lungs and I can feel my whole body becoming lighter. I’m about a foot off the ground now and smiling dumbly into the car.
“How much are you charging pretty girl?”
“funny”
“Yeah I know. Get in quick, this part of town freaks the hell out of me.”
Pulling myself back to earth I slide into the front seat of his car.
“its your turn”
“Okay, well I have always liked this one town and you wouldn’t expect it, but I think it’s just what you’re looking for in your little adventure.”
His green eyes are fogged and when I stare into them I swear I see the fog swirl in that same mystifying way it does when he exhales from a long puff on his pipe. The weightlessness I’m feeling only becomes more apparent and intense as I stare into those eyes. He turns away and the car peels out. He told me before that he does shit like that to jump back into reality when he feels he’s gone too far out. Everyone has their limits. It just depends when you hit them. As long as I have known him I have never been able to understand what exactly his limits are, but it doesn’t really matter I guess.
The dials of the radio are shining iridescent green. Out of habit I check his gas gauge.
“You got money?”
“yes”
“Right. Can I have a 20?”
I reach into my bag and pull out the 20 he wants. I hear the words “I’ll pay you back” but I’ve stopped listening. Whenever someone says they’ll pay you back, chances are they’re lying. A friend once asked me “Why do we care so much about a piece of paper with some fancy designs on it?” Good question. Who knows? Just keep it.
“Smile sweetie, you got nothing to frown for now.”
No.
The suns coming up and I hate it. The sunlight makes me realize how old Tom has gotten. The gray is already started to shine its way though his beard and pony tail. I know he feels it too. So much for dying young.
We are heading north on a deserted back road that runs next to a river. Whenever I pass places like this I always want to pull over and just jump in. I remember when I was in high school we used to skip our afternoon classes and all pile into the car and go to a river that was similar to this one and swim until dark. My mother would always wonder why I would come home wet but never bothered to ask out loud. She must have been scared of what I might say back to her.
His hand wanders from the steering wheel to the volume control which, only a few hours ago, was glowing but is now black like all the rest of the dials. One quick spin and the noise rushes through my ears and brain; it drowns out any previous thoughts.
“I’m assuming you got my message on your machine. I’m assuming you love me and you know what that means.”
Peace doesn’t come with quite.
I can feel my head start to swim in the sound and the thumping bass of this old beat up car. Close my eyes and roll down the window. The breeze is rushing past my face and the smell of sun fills my body. My hair spins in tiny cyclones around my head and I’m flying.
Who cares?
The start of something new always comes with a price.
"With my head upon your knee, half of its you, half is me"
I’m packed and have no real idea of where I’m going or even what I’m doing. The last night was the worst. From the mental exhaustion to the painful goodbye, none of it is easy to forget. I knew I had to get out before my carcass and soul were turned inside out from the guilt he constantly placed upon my body, but I thought that the love I had for him would keep me together while my lip was bleeding down my chin. But for every apology I gave him for not being everything he wanted, part of me would die. Still, I kept apologizing for not giving into his authority as much he might have wanted. "I’m sorry." Those were the last words I uttered to him as I closed the door behind me and walked out of his life forever. He was the best addiction I had. The highs were high and the lows, well, they were really fucking low. My days at work were long and he never understood the meaning of real work. He never understood my tacit agreement to society. He believed he owned my contract. So finally I decided I was going to break this contract and pay the consequences. Now standing on the street corner with two ratty old bags and my hat in hand I wait in anguish for my ride.
Over the last 10 years I’ve become friends with a kid I met back in school. Tom was always a little, well, freaky. A junkie drop out who didn’t give a shit what you thought, as long as he was happy. I loved him as soon as I met him. To put it simply, he’s everything I’ve wanted. I have never told him that I loved him and have always gotten a rush from him that I could never get from anyone else. This rush that I yearned for is why I told Tom I was leaving and I wanted him to come with me. I figured if I had him with me he could help me deal with the withdrawal symptoms I was starting to feel shutter down my spine.
Late, as usual. But what can you expect from a junkie. The car is full of smoke with the same old smashed out right headlight. Swerving slightly he drives over the curb and rolls down the window. The smoke fills my lungs and I can feel my whole body becoming lighter. I’m about a foot off the ground now and smiling dumbly into the car.
“How much are you charging pretty girl?”
“funny”
“Yeah I know. Get in quick, this part of town freaks the hell out of me.”
Pulling myself back to earth I slide into the front seat of his car.
“its your turn”
“Okay, well I have always liked this one town and you wouldn’t expect it, but I think it’s just what you’re looking for in your little adventure.”
His green eyes are fogged and when I stare into them I swear I see the fog swirl in that same mystifying way it does when he exhales from a long puff on his pipe. The weightlessness I’m feeling only becomes more apparent and intense as I stare into those eyes. He turns away and the car peels out. He told me before that he does shit like that to jump back into reality when he feels he’s gone too far out. Everyone has their limits. It just depends when you hit them. As long as I have known him I have never been able to understand what exactly his limits are, but it doesn’t really matter I guess.
The dials of the radio are shining iridescent green. Out of habit I check his gas gauge.
“You got money?”
“yes”
“Right. Can I have a 20?”
I reach into my bag and pull out the 20 he wants. I hear the words “I’ll pay you back” but I’ve stopped listening. Whenever someone says they’ll pay you back, chances are they’re lying. A friend once asked me “Why do we care so much about a piece of paper with some fancy designs on it?” Good question. Who knows? Just keep it.
“Smile sweetie, you got nothing to frown for now.”
No.
The suns coming up and I hate it. The sunlight makes me realize how old Tom has gotten. The gray is already started to shine its way though his beard and pony tail. I know he feels it too. So much for dying young.
We are heading north on a deserted back road that runs next to a river. Whenever I pass places like this I always want to pull over and just jump in. I remember when I was in high school we used to skip our afternoon classes and all pile into the car and go to a river that was similar to this one and swim until dark. My mother would always wonder why I would come home wet but never bothered to ask out loud. She must have been scared of what I might say back to her.
His hand wanders from the steering wheel to the volume control which, only a few hours ago, was glowing but is now black like all the rest of the dials. One quick spin and the noise rushes through my ears and brain; it drowns out any previous thoughts.
“I’m assuming you got my message on your machine. I’m assuming you love me and you know what that means.”
Peace doesn’t come with quite.
I can feel my head start to swim in the sound and the thumping bass of this old beat up car. Close my eyes and roll down the window. The breeze is rushing past my face and the smell of sun fills my body. My hair spins in tiny cyclones around my head and I’m flying.
Who cares?
The start of something new always comes with a price.
"With my head upon your knee, half of its you, half is me"