Nostalgia and Sentimentality from the Mouth of a Natural Born Cocksucker
Mouth filled with warmth. Warm flesh. Trapped and finally fluids.
I like to sleep with my face in a crotch. I use to do that with Knobby Knocker...pacified between his legs, arms wrapped around his thigh and as soon as I’d awake, I’d turn my mouth and attention back to his cock. When napping like that, you’ve got to be careful for da nutsacks. I’d imagine it’s a horrible experience to wake up to the sensation of your balls being crushed by the weight of someone’s face...but if you position yourself right...it’s not a problem. You have to cradle your head in the area of separation between the hip and beginning of the upper thigh...this is my favorite area of the human body...how it forms a V (victory, venereal, victim..etc)...the lilac crest...I love to run my tongue up that line as pubic hairs scrape across my face. Such a delicious thing.
I wonder why I never, no, I know why I never requested that of Mr. Chris, for him to lay there after his dick had been sucked limp, with my face buried in his come and saliva filled crotch....and then to sleep...a momentary pause in the nightmare. It’s either because I don’t smoke an 8th of weed a day anymore or because it’s too important to me...something I take highly personal...and any slight after that, any betrayal (or imagined one) would seal the deal...my rage and pain would know no end...which of course I would take out on myself. There are 23 visible scars on my arms...and each one belongs to someone...
All opportunities passed, and future chances mere maybes...I wish I would have done that with him once...with people like us there is always the looming threat of suicide.
I am fairly positive he will kill himself.
Dinner
“Hey, I’m really sorry about what happened”-Kathy
Yeah, blame yourself bitch, just like I always blame myself. That’s good, feel guilty, regret it. And the next time you think you’re gonna pick up some shy little dorky girl and have your way with her, maybe you’ll fucking think twice. If I’m sitting here wishing I was dead for ever coming to this rotten state with you worthless fucks, why don’t you sit here with me in the same hell?
“Wow, this steak is really good”-Me, and it was.
“Did you feel coerced, did you feel like you couldn’t say no?”-Kathy, and how that just accentuated my discomfort. She knew. Knew exactly what was going through my head the whole time and was pushing to see how much I could take.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine”-Me, wondering if she had any idea how close she had come...come to what I’m not sure...but I know if Kathy had not backed out when she did I would have eventually beat the fuck out of her, brutally.
Name: Bother, Why
The only way I’m ever going to stop hating myself, is if I stop letting people use me for sex and demand decent and humane treatment as a human being. Paradoxically, it takes self love to end the cycle of abuse, but slowly I’m getting better. These days instead of getting someone else to love me, I’m more focused on feeling love for myself. I know I have to stop defining my self worth in terms of what other people think/say/or feel about me...I wont lie, so far it’s been worse than kicking methadone, Neurontin, or oxycontin...there have been many set back and road blocks. To stop compromising our own standards and beliefs is possibly the most difficult battle a person will ever face.
Talking To Myself Under A Street Light.
You’ve got to stop sleeping with him.
The only way I will ever stop sleeping with him is if I am no where near him.
You love him.
And will my love for him destroy me because he does not love me in return or will my love for myself resurrect and force me to hate him? That is what is bound to happen...I will drag this out until the bond becomes so thin it snaps.
That is of no consequence. You’ve got to go home.
I’ve got to go home. I can’t stay around this cruel and dimly lit meat market or I will end up on the slaughtering block myself.
You’ve got to learn how to say No and stick to it.
But I am in hell and tired of feeling so lonely, he makes me think I am not so by myself.
What he makes you think/feel and the reality of it are very different things. What is better? Knowing you are alone and safe, or thinking you aren’t and being made vulnerable to the pain of reality...having it flaunted around in your face.
I suppose I know.
Of course you do, but if you want to survive you’ve got to act on it.
Maybe it would be best to hide forever and to stop trying...
You’ll never do that, you don’t have the mentality for it. You’re acting immature.
I let them feel me up and walk all over me, put their hands anywhere they like on my body. No one cares that I’m a jack rag, they like me that way. Touch me, touch me, go ahead...everyone else has had their way with me now you can too. Is true that no one will treat me decently? That no one will ever respect me?
As long as you keep letting it happen, no one will ever love you or treat you decently. You are the only one who can make it STOP.
I ’m scared.
You don’t need to be, the worst has already happened.
Why do I always feel like I love so much and get nothing back?
Because you are not Christ and unconditional love is a vice not a virtue.
But the only love I know for people is unconditional.
Everyone’s love for you has always been conditional. Everything has a clause, read the fine print. You have suffered so much that your heart and compassion became to big. Either learn to protect it or atrophy it.
If it atrophies, who will put flowers on my grave? I want petals in my hair, my whole self to rot in the fragrance of cut down stalks and broken blossoms. If I protect it, how can I be fortified and warm? When will I know to open the door?
If you cut out your heart, your memories will shower you in blood infused with pollen...all those once empty hands from the past will return to you full of partial decay and they will cover you in fall’s slow turning away...but if you learn to protect yourself, your pride will burn inside of you and radiate warmth throughout all around you. Confidence will guide the way.
I will change so much no one will recognize me. What if no one knows me anymore? If I go down either path...the end of each road is no where in sight....What if I fail? What if I’m not strong enough?
You are already too strong to let such questions divert you. Get Moving.
Conclusion: From Hell, To Hell
I stood under the street light looking at my hands. No open wounds meant no exchange of bodily fluids. I would be okay, no reason to get paranoid about the A.I.D.S. Of course I started crying, there was a bench near by so I sat down for a second.
I had to get my shit together.
After a minute I got up and I walked down the road, towards the lights of a decivilized nation thinking, “Yep, another great fucking year”.
