Golden Rain!

I followed my friends. My newly sworn friends.

Into the dark we went. They had promised me bitches and lots of alcohol. Sex, drugs and good music.

White candles burnt everywhere. It smelled like a church. I wasn't sure where I was. Not a church I hoped. All I wanted was to get my rocks off and enjoy this Christmas away from home. I wanted to remember my first time away in a different kind of way.

The music rumbled away from us in such a strange way. We were following a party that was going away. Dying Away.

My phone began ringing, Someone was calling me. My ring tone was "La Mantra Mori" by Ghost. The song gave our journey a special feeling and it blended with our pace perfectly, so I did not pick up. 

"We Focus On Your Death

We Focus On Your Death

You Share Not The Blood of Our-our-ours

Thus We Focus On Your Death"

Warm and velvety were the walls that chocked us while we walked. 

The calling on my cellphone died away eventually, And the sense of belonging dissipated too. We drank and smoke. People around seemed happy. They seemed as if they were getting ready for a massive party.

We were too dumb to run. To dead to die. And as they tied me up to a stake, I sighed.

This was never my world, I thought. As they cut my clothes open. This is it, I said to my self.

I am broken and bleeding.

And then my blood dripped down and splashed frenetically on the stone floor. I pissed  myself,

A last, a moment of joy before dying, I Thought.

Dick Pound

26.12.2014

,

I will destroy you

I headed to the toilet
I took my penis out
I began pissing
The music outside played:

"I was born into this

Everything turns to shit

The boy that you loved is the man that you fear

Peel off all those eyes and crawl into the dark,

You've poisoned all of your children to camouflage your scars

Pray unto the splinters, pray unto your fear

Pray your life was just a dream

The cut that never heals

Pray now baby, pray your life was just a dream

The world in my hands, there's no one left to hear you scream

There's no one left for you"

I remembered all my friends and hoes

I remembered all my friends and enemies

I liked pissing

I liked getting rid of all my father's scars
I prayed my life was just a dream
The cut that never heals
The smile that nonone ever sees

Hrms Coldwell

24.08.14

Don't Break My Heart

Another night out. Another lover added to the list. I had already made it to the international club. This time it didn't matter. The frustration of not having someone in my bed just to wake up to had led me to ask the direct question: "Would you like to spend the night with me in my flat, no sex, no kissing, just you sleeping in bed next to me. I need someone to spend the night with. I don't want to wake up alone tomorrow. Give it a try, won't you?"

It had worked. And I woke up to the sunlight at around 5 am. My head ached. I craved a cigarette. My flat was quiet. The Saturday morning light blinded my brown eyes. I never lowered the blinds because I was afraid my cats would destroy them. 

I felt something warm next to me. I didn't even bother to look at the person sleeping next to me. I had accomplished something I had been longing for too much. Yet I felt empty. I felt like a cheat. It felt wrong. I felt like if I had cheated destiny. It didn't feel right. I had coerced an unsuspecting someone into fulfilling a fantasy, a dark dream. I felt like a vampire. I felt dirty. Even if i had not done anything carnal. I felt like if I wanted to die. I had desired this for way too long. It felt wrong.

I stood up and moved quietly towards the kitchen. I was ready to brew coffee. The morning coffee. I hesitated. I was not ready nor willing to do it this time. It was a move I didn't feel right that morning. So I crept into the bathroom like a shadow escaping the light. 

I closed the door shut. I sighed. "If I Was Your Vampire" by Marilyn Manson started playing in my head.

"This is where it starts.

This is where it will end.

Here comes the moon again."

"This is not what I want my life to be all about", I thought while washing my face with ice-cold water. I took a look at the mirror and I saw the sad me reflected in my brown eyes. I saw the sadness. I saw myself. I didn't want this.

I must have stared at myself for way to long that by the time I left the bathroom, I was alone with my cats and  my face was sporting an empty smile.

17.02.2014

Immanuel Kant

Let Me Out

"All my friends are embryonic

All my friends are dead and gone

All my friends are microscopic

All my friends wake up alone"

Hole's song began shaking the walls of the bar. The crowd continued to drink. Beer is often a powerful medicine that allows the quiet to interact in ways no one could expect expect. 

"Gutless...you're gutless

You're gutless...you're gutless"

Love continued to roar through the sound system. 

I was in good company, like most of the times I went out to drown myself in booze. Unlike the rest of them there, drinking as an outlet, was not for me to numb my shyness but to dull the voices in my head. Unlike being in high school and drinking to get fucked up, I learned to drink to get to that state of mind in which I am mostly relaxed. At time quiet and observant.Yet thoughtful and disguised in the shadows of the world.

Courtney's song faded in the blackness of Melodka, the bar I was at that night. 

My companions were almost as thirsty as I was. Another round of beer and Jager appeared on our table and I lit another cigarette. I puffed on it and I exhale a large ever-changing cloud of grey nothingness. And I killed the shot of booze sitting next to my beer in a sigh.

It had been a long day. It had been a tough day. So I went to empty myself from all the voices, booze and urine. And then I was ready to do it again. I was free and I was feeling good.

Coldwell 

28.01.14

The Sound Of Pissing II

"The following is an unreleased interview for Empire Magazine"

Prague, Spring of 2013

One of our reporters managed to get a hold of the infamous artist Hrms Etc, as his fans call him. 

We are sitting in the hotel suite of one of Prague's most expensive hotels. Hrms Etc has asked the hotel staff to decorate his room with several screens, blocking the over-decorated walls and making this room darker and colder. Different things are playing on each screen. We recognize 'House of 1000 Corpses', and 'The Exorcist'. Straight porn, gay porn and nudity on other screens. Alejandro Jodorowsky's "El Topo", is what catches out attention. A series of unnatural shots put together in such a appalling way. A master piece of the spaghetti westerns.

Hrms Etc is sipping on red wine. He is staring at the screens showing nudity. 

We clear our throats and proceed with the long awaited interview.

Empire: How's the wine?

Hrms Etc: Quite good. The fact is that I didn't have to pay for it. So it is better and stronger for that reason. I like red wine. I like it when I feel romantic. I like it when I feel like getting wasted. I like red wine.

E: That's good. So, we wanna thank you for this interview.

H: No, thank you for coming all the way down to my hotel in such a terrible weather.

It is pouring cats and dogs outside

E: So tell us, What kind of food could you do without?

H: Hmm, I think I could do without many different kinds of food. For instance, I think I couldn't care less if i stopped eating broccoli.

E:What's your favorite song at the moment?

H: Teenage Nosferatu Pussy. It has a funny dark side to it and I just can't stop listening to this one.

E: What's your favorite vegetable?

H: I don't have any favorite one

E: What's your favorite part of your body?

H: My dick

E: Is there any movie character that resembles your mother or your father?

H: Well, I think "The Shinning", and I would be the little kid repeating RedRum 32 times.

E: What do you think when you are pissing in the men's room?

H: Strangely enough, I like to think that someone is watching me piss. Call it a fantasy. Call it what you want. Sometimes I think that guys in the men's room enjoy the situation and look at other guys' dicks. Women are lesbians by nature. Men like to look at dicks pissing, I think. At least I do. And I know some other men who would agree with me. I do not know whether they just like to stare.Or if they like to compare size and girth. I like counting so sometimes I think I come up with the strangest games. In my head I have to count things. So sometimes when I am in the men's room I like to count how many cocks I get to see. But most of the times I only see mine. That's arousing.

E: What was the last nightmare you had?

H: I was in a mall and everybody was shopping.

E: What do you think of the Boston Bombing?

H: I think Americans are so good at media manipulation so they make this single act of violence into a huge world wide thing that has nothing to do with more important things that are going on right now. But please compare this with the thousands of people American troops have killed in Iraq or Afghanistan. Boston is nothing compared to what they have done in those two countries. But I feel sorry for the guy who lost his legs and his dick.

E: Is there any fantasy that you haven't fulfilled?

H: Yeah, some.

E: Coffee, black or with milk?

H: Milk

E: Favorite celebrity?

H: The Artist

E: Cocaine or E?

H: Neither

E: Thank you very much for your time

H: Thank you for yours

Courtesy of EM

19.4.2013

The Devil Is In All Of You

My phone kept on ringing. I left it on the table. And took several hits of rum. The ice had already melted but my drink was nicely cold. The goddamn phone kept on ringing. Nobody ever bothered to call me and ask how I was or that shit. But tonight it was ringing. Somebody wanted to talk to me. And I didn't. 

I never considered myself to be a bad person, let alone rude or uncaring. Friends always told me that I should learn how to be assertive.  But I just didn't want to answer that phone call. I took another hit of Bacardi and washed it down with beer. I could feel the booze making its way into my system, slowly but surely. It felt good. 

I noticed that my phone had stopped ringing. I turned it off. My ipod was in my bag, on the chair next to mine. I reached inside my green Converse bag and grabbed it. I managed to untangle the headphone's cable and I put them on. I liked this place, Mandragora, a run-down rock pub with a broken PA system. The perfect place for me to get on with my writing.

I enjoyed being there. Cheap booze, darkness and pictures of rock bands no one had ever heard of before hung perfectly from the slimy walls. Decoration or just a vain attempt to cover up the filth of these walls, I thought. I liked slimy walls better, I smirked.

I had shared this place with only a few people. They never liked it. It stinks like piss, one said. The other two had a posh attitude towards everything and they rated this bar as a shit hole. I didn't care. I can be here by myself, I thought. I enjoyed being alone. With some drinks and my notebook. Alone was ok.

I began writing some lines. It was November 2010. I kept on drinking. Another beer?, the waiter asked me. And a shot of Absinth, I replied.

Soon the drinks were on the table, right next to my black leather notebook. I wrote and wrote. Cold Red Light by IAMX was playing. I felt the energy flow through my skin towards my fingertips. I was writing something that wasn't part of what I had intended to write. I had had some beers and I was shooting up absinth straight into my blood.

I closed my eyes and when I opened them I was heading towards the toilet. It stank of shit and cigarettes. But I didn't care. The doors of the toilet actually locked. Something unusual about toilets of places like this. I liked to be able to lock myself in the bathroom and do my business without having to care about being interrupted by drunk patrons of Mandragora.

I was there. I wiped clean the toilet seat. I unzipped my pants and pulled them down. I sat down. I wasn't sure if I wanted to shit or just to piss. It didn't matter. Marilyn Manson began to play.

"Hey, cruel world…You don’t have what it takes

We don’t need your faith.

We’ve got fucking fate."

I sat there looking at the walls of this one toilet I was at. There was nothing new to see. Stickers of Anti Fascism and graffiti. I checked to see if there was enough toilet paper. There was plenty. I was fine.   

"The center of the universe

Cannot exist

When there are no,

No edges"

Manson sang. And I listened. Then the middle eight of the song kicked in. I could hear some people outside. I could make out some banging. I could only think. Are they fighting?. Should I stay in here?. Should I call the police?. Fuck, I thought, I don't know what to do. I heard some screaming. The banging got louder and so did the song. I will stay here, I said to myself. There is no way I am going to open this door now. I paused the song. I removed my headphones. The shouting got quieter and quieter. And in an instant, it was quiet as a grave.

I waited. I pulled my pants up and tried to peek through one of the cracks the door bore as a signature of violence and of bravery. There was nobody outside. At least no one I could see. I thought of running away from that place. I thought of the fact that I still had to pay for what I had ingested. I thought of leaving the bathroom and being blamed for the raucous. Shit, I thought of being mauled by the ferocious men that instants ago had been fighting in this very place. 

I opened the door and the first thing I saw was a man lying on the floor. There was no blood. Only piss and paper towels everywhere. I left the toilet as quickly as I could. They Waiter was at my table replenishing my beer. I waved at him, and signal him to come with me. He did. 

He stopped right outside the toilet and right in front of me. What? he asked. There was a fight, I said, and a man is on the floor, I continued. He opened the door and went inside. I followed. He stooped down and put his hand on the man's neck. He went on, this man is deceased.

Hrms Etc

8.1.13