Friday, 6 August 2010

48.all todays parties

Every thing is exactly the same everyday, exactly the same, even if something is different it's still the same in the great big picture of things, who are exactly the same, and everyday and every night exactly the same, like that party, i don't like parties, let me tell you something. Like honestly.


because they're always so loud and the music is shit anyway and there's no one to really talk to, or if there is, you can't actually talk can you, or listen to what is being said, so the whole communication thing in which i'm not good anyway is drown by bass and drums and degenerates into a mute, deaf guessing game, two separate trains of inner monologue going along their own way - or even if there's someone to talk, even if you can be mutually heard over the dumb beat-beat-beat, it's usually random pointless shit you talk about, cos you can't talk serious shit in parties, you can't just go up to a dude and ask: "nice party, eh? so what do you think about life after death? Do you believe in God? Do you thing we're all monkies shot into space?" Serious party-killers,aye? so it's bye bye genuine human contact, so there's nothing to do really other than get immensely drunk, try every drug that lays around, shake your ass to the music, grind against unknown, sweaty bodies making friends and screaming shit like, I love this song, when you're only swirling in your own cloud of artificial rapture and they're swirling in their own personal clouds of artificial rapture - drink, drink, drink, snort, smoke, swallow etc. etc. i fucking LOVE this party, you say to yourself, is what i needed all damn week.

Another reason i don't like parties is you never know with whose fingers up your arse you gonna end up. There's this moment, at every goddamn party, somewhere near dawn, where the party has literally died down and the left out corpses are laying around wherever there is an empty surface, or even already occupied space, everywhere they're dropping like flies on beds, sofas, mattresses, corners, and under tables, my own personal favorite, and okay, so there's this moment when i wake up and everyone else around me is like pretty much dead, legs and arms mixed up in odd angles like a bomb been dropped or something,

such utter sense of desolation to be surrounded by so many stifling, sweating, smelly, liveing dead bodies yet you the only one alive, as in conscious as in hyper as in super-aware of every little depressing thing (dripping taps, breathless sobs, snores, farts, sirens, bells, cuckkoos, yawns, creaks of termite into wood, bedsprings moaning, sour breaths, smell of pot and burned foil, cigarette butts reeking and stale alcohol, disease, death).

This time, i'm waking up and find myself plastered betwwen a friend of mine(a girlfriend's ex boyfriend)and a guy i don't know, like haven't even met throughout the entire party unless i did but i was too stoned to remember. I'mm starting too squirm ever so slightly, me and my depressing little maggoty thoughts , when a finger is shoved or trying to be shoved up my arse, my straight-as-a-fucking-arrow friend starts pulling down my pants, rubbing himself on me backside, I also hate parties because too often it comes down to this pathetic decision: it's either the blade or the cock, and most times i opt for cock, the easy way out, so i'm kinda embracing the distraction my friends' hands offer my body and my friend starts kissing the side of my neck, tehn biting, and he's realy hard, and i can't speak because i might wake up the other fellow up and it's like, impolite, but my friend's well-calculated subdued pants in my ear are doing things to my cock, and he's trying to bite me right beneath the ear but can't so he's sucks and licks and slobbers down my neck, and he bites my ear instead, and i feel like coming then and there but the booze or whatever won't let me, however my veins feel like they;re filled with cum, nothing but cum floating inthose great fat faded-blue tubes and my friend tries to push his cock in but i'm too considerate towards the other fellow to lift my leg and help out when suddenly another hand to my cock and a warm throbbing cock to my cock and guess who's awake as well, grinding against me, chewing my lips, biting the entire mouth and jaw region of my face(so much about guy's fucking is instant, greedy gratification of instant greedy need, that's what make sit raw, that's what makes it true), and then it's a bit of harsh bump and grind, the one fellow reaches aorund me and pulls keeping my ass open for my friend to jam his cock in, i being an accomodating fella drape my leg over this dude's legs and it'a all sweat and open-mouthed breaths, the smell of this dude's mouth stale in my face, and my friend comes so i'm being rolled the other side and now sucking face with my friend, while the other dude comes in, and it's jab jab jab, being wanked at the same time, me, coming on my friend's belly and crotch and legs, i don't where it's going it's diffuse, and the dude coming up my arse and it's diffuse-

and then i scramble for my underwear and jeans, get dressed, get up, and away into the grayish dawn like a batch of dirty laundry hung to dry over the rooftops - gettign poetic(poetic my ass), getting emotional, push it down, cram it way down, make it stop or slow it down-hail cab(you don't want to start crying in a bus)- teeter into back seat-slur the address-watch sky turn brighter, feeling the emotion rising as well, about to go off-focusing on your sore used-up arsehole is a temporary relief, something to really hold on to, pathetic- then climbing up stairs, breatheless, drawing blinds, puking,downing pills with funny-tasting water, end up naked shivering in bed and you know, you know what i do after those fucking parties which i so fucking hate because you never know whose finger or cock you might find shoved up your arse and yet those parties and these pills and these cheap thrills and these cocks, tehy're better tahn nothing, than having to face yourself, confront the silence, the emptiness, the flatness, the nothingness, the sameness the boredom, i hate these fucking parties because in the end you know, you know what i do?

I fucking sit up and cry.


  1. this is some feel-bad shit. i actually love it. some real emotion is here. but i think i'm going to run and grab another cup of coffee and a cig. because i need them.

  2. Visceral, erotic, sad and painfully honest. Courageous and artful writing my friend.

  3. kileerluka:

    i don't really cry, you know. It's more like trying to. but i'm such a pussy.Who DOESNOT cry. hardly.



  4. syreearmwellion,
    cigarette and coffee sound just fine to me!Thank you, emotion or lack of emotion i cannever tell. It's lack of emeotion that makes me emotional or too much emotion making me go dead...sheesh.what's wrong with me.sorry.And thanks a lot for your kind words.


  5. Nick,
    you think? well, this is a compliment coming from you.
    Love ya, dude!

  6. Steppenwolf,
    i just love the sound of the word 'visceral'.Makes me kinda...stimulated LOL.How many thanks can i ever offer you? it;s a great thing coming from someone who's as good wioth words as you are.