03

,wake up even though I don’t want to wake up, it’s an involuntary movement, eyes open, stuff rushing in, deluging me, half naked in my bed with only dirty boxers on, half-ashamed, half turned on, turned on by the remembrance of shame, of pain, of pleasure, I want to go back to sleep, draw the blinds, metaphorically speaking, on this goddamn theatre of pain and shame. Everything is still on me, and on my clothes, and on my breath, and I know why it all happened, why I let it happen, it’s the hole, you know, and I don’t mean my pisshole or asshole, or even mouth, eyes, nostrils, ears, so many holes to plug, kill etc. but it’s that hole, the ubiquitous hole, some call it darkness, some sin, some depression, some hate, some they call it nothing, or the emptiness they call it, the void, but I call it for what it is and it’s a fucking hole you have to fill, so much aching need to fill the hole cause it constantly eats up everything, nothing satisfies the hole, nothing fills the hole, nothing appeases the hole, no matter how much you try to feed the hole it wants more and more and it’s hungrier and hungrier, there’s nothing you can do about it if you’re unlucky to be born with a hole straight in the middle of you, some call it a pit, the pit of the stomach they say, and this is where the hole resides, where it thrives and roars, keep it coming it roars, keep it coming, it opens up and can swallow you whole and that’s when you can let yourself fall, fall deep down into the stinking aching gaping hole,

and there’s so much crazy shit you can do, you’re willing to do to shut up the hole, sometimes I wonder who’s making me do all that stuff, the answer is in the hole, maybe some creature, a demon maybe, I don’t believe in god, maybe it’s just the human condition which is insatiable, ah, the human condition, blah blah blah, don’t tell me you didn’t like it, don’t tell you didn’t have fun yesterday, don’t tell me you didn’t do it for your kicks, ah, the kicks, like literally, I can’t remember much except for the pain in my ribs, all fuzzed out in pain and pleasure and you said I have lovely veins, no, you said juicy veins, and I thought it was so romantic, and it made me laugh, you just slapped me tenderly around for a while, and whispered, “you’re a beautiful little shit, my little shit, I’m gonna teach you the meaning of pain, don’t laugh you little shit, didn’t your momma tell you it’s impolite to laugh at people’s faces?” and as you jabbed the vein all I could think was “this is so crazy, this is so crazy,” over and over again, why do we do such things, maybe it’s because we want to die, maybe because we like it, maybe because we want the pain, the pain alone can sate the hole, mute it for a while, shut it up, you can build on pain and then it’s all coming crashing down but the pain is maybe the only sensation, makes you aware of your being, makes you alive, the blood running down a love wound of teeth means you’re alive and well-loved,

the rush, then, the rush, like in the movies or in the books, a large wave of nausea you laugh “it’s nothing like the movies or the books, stoopid”, down on my knees, the not-so-white bowl splattered with Pollock bits of orange and yellow, what did I have for dinner, it’s all coming out in bursts and gushes, like an open bleeding artery of chewed up half-digested food, the human body is so dirty inside, I used to close my eyes and dream I was made of light, but only that came out was vomit, snot, shit, cum, sweat, my mouth painting the marble, my puke more creative or charismatic than I’ll ever be, can I be reduced to a sticky puking shitting convulsing orgasming pissing speechless screaming writhing reasonless mess, please, pretty fucking please?

dying animal by the side of the road, road kill, flies piling around what I’m going to be, what we all gonna be, will you come here and hold my head while I puke and gag on my own bile, not much in there anymore, it’s just muscles contracting, involuntarily, will you perhaps stroke my hair away from my forehead so I can see better, or bring me a glass of cold water;

you, so full of tenderness, kneel by my side, a hand snaking down my pants, waistband revealing, riding low on buttocks, you see something you like? spasm spasm gag gagging your hand eases into my crack, shove the jeans down, around knees, a puddle of denim, my knees hurt, they’re hurting the floor, I can see a tiny fleck of brown plastered and dried in a niche of the toilet, when I breathe the marble bowl, the water, they reflect my breath, they echo my face, I’m scared of my reflection and all I wanna do right now is just stretch my tongue out and lick that fleck of dried brown clean, I wanna clean your ejaculations and excrements and anything that has come out of you and has somehow lingered, while you finger my asshole, my fingers clutch the rim, it’s cool on my face, in here, I can’t hear what I’m thinking, the pad of finger circles the ring of muscle, “and it burns burns burns the ring of fire” ha ha,
the pad of finger tries to peel the resistance away, come on, push inside, first the tip, fingernail scrapes flesh, I open up as much as knot of fabric allows, up to the first knuckle and all I keep thinking, it’s crazy, it’s so fucking crazy, breath hitching or something, more, more, MORE, finger slides inside, who would’ve thought the skin could be so clingy, so defiant, the inner organs, a map, an uncharted area of sticky or glistening slopes, all red and hot with body temperature, curlicues of intestine, man, it must be a wild ride in there, finger glides in then out, then much easier in, anus expanding, some pain from friction and abrasion, pleasure too, take it out, hear you slurp around your fingers getting them wet and back in, two fingers, and you don’t pace yourself, feel your body engulfing me somehow, you’re like a mountain and I’m the lake or tree in its shadow, I feel your body heat coming to me through our tees sticking on back and chest with sweat, fingers fuck, deep deep deep, push push pull, fast pounding hard rhythm, your breath against my ear, your smell surrounding me, and then

empty; cold; trembling; on the floor; tiles marked with grease, “now I can fuck you forever”, fingers grasp and twist sweaty matted hair, “or till it all wears out”, I’m flicked on floor, now jeans around ankles, palms on ass cheeks, spreading them open, cold air like a razor across the inflamed sphincter, cold razor against hot skin, the cut is cold and then warms up, flick the razor, make blood appear, I can’t see your work of art but I can feel the trickles on both sides of my ass, the wounds sting and aroused by sour breath, blood pours in crack, a glance over my shoulder, engorged cock in hand, so hard it pierces right in, grateful ass gives in and widens in agony and bliss, squishy sounds as blood brims and oozes up around the girth of your cock;

that was just the beginning. We fucked all night, I wouldn’t let an inch of me without having you, still blood and your cum swimming in my belly or somewhere, thighs sticky, your taste in my mouth where your cock fucked me so hard the palate has blood, my lips swollen, the tips reddened and sore almost split, ass lacerated, on the inside and on the outside, the blood from the scars (“don’t worry, they’re superficial“) clinging to stiff underwear, headache pumping in my veins and temples, the hole needs more, hard-on again, painful to touch, I remember your teeth around it, you touched and licked and tugged and bit, ouch fuck, I have to come, need something up my ass, plug the good ol’ hole, room stuffy, the smell on my body is our smells mixed together, heady, heavy, cigarette smoke too, a pinprick on the inside of elbow, my skin and pores ejaculate odours of dried cum and sour sweet alcohol, something in my ass, please, fill the hole, you know, a quick survey of darkening room,

imagine I’m raped with the handle of a broom, or something, a truncheon, with the thick end of a bottle, I don’t care, I need sustenance, I need fulfilment, I need to be safe, mouth safely secured around big cock, ass crammed with one or two more, locked between bodies that nurture me with their hard-ons and jism, shoot a couple of rosy threads up my chest, gather it with fingers that smell of blue cheese, lick them, get up with wobbly knees, bruised knees, take a couple of vics, something for the headache and stomach medicine, throw a NIN tee on, my legs scratched as if I’ve been in a fight, the inner thighs have teeth marks and hand prints, the skin is such a wonderful, rich landscape, you know, go pee, strange colour odour, strange pain of something having been shoved down urethra, excites me, I could stay in bed all day wanking, I wanna wank all day which must mean I’m kinda depressed, I want to come and come until it hurts to come and then I want to come some more, and I want to spread my cum all over the walls, posters, books, t-shirts, you know, it keeps it down, the voices down, drowns it, the orgasm, the aching muscles, and when I take a dump it’s fucking painful and smelly as something crawled up my ass and hid and died, my haemorrhoids are bleeding on the toilet paper, it’s like I have my period, I poke them around, little fleshy lumps, try to push them back in and there’s blood under my fingernails, and it smells like sweaty shit and dead cheese, and my bowels, bruised, tangled, with guilt and dismay and grazed or shoved out of place by your huge fucking cock, driblets of blood everywhere inside, dead tissue, internal scars, internal abrasion, oh yes, fuck, I’d get another erection if she

didn’t call out to me and asked me what I’m doing, I flash cold water against my ass, wondering if he could feed my ass with the showerhead, there’s also a pimple on my ass just above a shallow cut and I pop it and come out without washing up and go to the kitchen with the fresh juice and smell of eggs and blaring morning TV and her face, wondering, looking with idiotic consternation and doing her mommy talk, “where have you been last night?” and I lie about being at my friend’s “and why did you come home at four in the morning?” and I mumble some half-arsed excuse about his parents having a fight so I left, and she’s looking at me like she wants really bad to believe me, and says okay, and I shy away because I haven’t washed myself from him and if she came close enough, imagine if she bent forward to kiss me on the cheek, she’d have a nasty surprise, I can just picture her cringe when the smell of his cum and ass and cockballs wafts from my breath to her face,