Alarming was the discovery, the past I took for granted. When the past was present, I dared to piss it away. Steady ex- girlfriends were inevitable. The frequent stream of booze and cocaine blinded my eyeballs with pornographic delusion. Cockroaches envisioned in the corner of my eyes were multiplied through sleepless hours with bad, dry to no taste in my mouth. Not to anyone's suitable knowledge my time at that one bedroom apartment in Germantown was weaning down.
I sobered up one sultry Summer afternoon picturing her surrounded by ivory doves, laced in a thin threaded white dress with sequins. Her eyes and face that smiled bit the sordid hair right off my narrow bird chest. Mocking was her grin. For she would smile at me no more. Days, Months ,and years would pass. No word from the crimson goddess, save only from the deep grey clouds that descended upon my dreams. Reality would remain twisted with cruel truths yet to be reavealed. The clown of death told one to many quirky jokes upon my carnivorous lifestyle. She disappeared into a surrealistic abyss of B- movies and old friends. She had to remember where she forgot them, I on the other hand would eternally be recovering. Years later I ( the man in this story) woke up at a rather strange hour. It was about a half - hour before the early bird would even be able to catch the worm! My usual routine of checking my 1997 style answering machine then deleting the collectors electronic messages was in place, when there came a knock to my Kensington row home door! I naturally reached for my dulled switchblade, it was her, the crimson goddess! Turns out she happened to be in town for Heroin! She became a Junky! This was perfect for my ego, for I could supply her with support and suboxone in an attempt to nurse her back into my arms.
Truthfully I love this woman and this is all speculation, she never became a junky and I never referred to her as the crimson goddess. She was simply a Woman that I (D. Pollock) cared for and still do. No matter how hard I try to get her off my mind, I just can't until someone new can temporarily fill the void that's draining my mind, body and soul. True there comes a time in everyone's life when their forced to either move on, shut up, or die. I prefer to have my cake and sniff some glue. Although I must say now I feel more accomplished than I ever have in my twenties for one odd reason or another. Maybe it's due to pure abstinence when it comes to drugs and/ or masturbation. But maybe that's too personal for you. Maybe we prefer to hide from our truths, I know I used to. It makes one feel uncomfortable maybe? No wonder society and families are ordinarily dysfunctional. I suppose this country won't be satisfied until the divorce rate hits 100%, as long as the queers don't marry right? Well that's another story.
Stay tuned for some more pillow talk. Sorry for straying away from settling down with the pajama girl.
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