The Sounds Of Pissing III

It had been months since I could have a good night sleep. I used to fall asleep as soon as my head hit the soft goose feathered pillow. But something changed that night. I would stare blank at the white ceilings. With heavy eyes and sore thoughts the nights would roll out.

All I wanted was to fucking fall asleep. I didn't care if I had nightmares or if I just slumber for a while.

I had tried it all. I ran as fast as I could to get my body as tired as possible. I had tried masturbating. I had smoked joints. Nothing seemed to keep me from being awake. I was slowly rotting inside. I could feel death calmly creeping underneath my bed as I laid still.

Was it the secrets? Was it the rain outside? Was it the full on booze nights I spent trying to black out?

I kept drowning in a sea of empty thoughts and eternal seconds. I was so empty.

Time passed and the bodily urge of pissing reminded me that I was awake. 

Like a glitch in my system I hypnic jerked out of bed.

I rushed to the toilet. My dull self crawled in a lackadaisical fashion.

Once in the white room, I lowered my pajamas pants, and took my member out.

I leaned against the wall trying to make the whole situation bearable. Silence was golden. Suddenly I began pissing. And the pleasure reminded me that being awake was a blessing nobody really cherished. At least not me until that very moment. 

I was more conscious than most people I knew. And I was able to enjoy, in the precarious of my situation, a mundane act.

"And I hope I can live another day", I thought.

Hermes Coldwell

11.12.2018  

Go On & Smile, You Cunt!

Waking up to the forever-painful-reminder-of-having-drunk-way-too-much-wine-and-having-smoked-way-too-many-cigarettes-and-more-than-one-puff-of-white-widow was, strangely enough, becoming a habit.

It was 10:17 am and the birds were singing outside. I could hear their goddamn conversations as if they were sitting next to my left ear. I was always able to hear better with my left ear. It was like when women tell you that one of their tits is bigger than the other, or when serious looking people tell you that they have one arm or leg longer than the other. But for men, it's always the balls. One is always hanging lower than the other 'cuz it's bigger and produces more sperm, so that is why it's bigger and heavier. For me, it was my hearing abilities. I could hear better with my left ear.

I was still drunk, sweaty and I had this strong urge to piss. I could't get up. It hurt to even think. The noise outside felt like atom bombs exploding inside my skull. This had to be what if fells like when you die, or when you are born. Everything was so painful. The light, the sounds, the thoughts. Had I been born again?

I tried to recall the events that took place the night before. I just remembered I had tons of red wine. Fuck, I needed a cigarette. 

I managed to get out from the painful comfort of my own bed. I looked for a cigarette in a futile attempt to numb myself out of this all. I searched everywhere but apparently i had ran out of smokes. Deep inside my shoulder bag there was an almost destroyed joint. Not what I had been longing for but definitely something I could puff on, and maybe something that would help the pain go away.

I took out my zippo lighter and lit the crooked joint. I began smoking mother nature's remedy.

Soon I felt better. As if I had just begun feeling the booze kick in. It was nice. So I made my way into the toilet. I needed to release some pressure from my bladder. I lowered my briefs and took my cock out. I never liked wearing boxers. I had always liked to keep my cock and balls concealed into a nice bulging shape. Hence avoiding the uncomfortable feeling of my nuts jumping all round when I danced.   

I was sweating alcohol. With my left hand I held the joint. With my right one I held my cock. I puffed another white cloud of this miraculous medicine. I looked down and tried to aim my piss at the center of the toilet bowl. I didn't want to miss the spot. 

A nice, almost transparent discharge of piss came out of my cock making me feel  somewhat aroused. 

This was the side effects of drinking too much red wine, I thought.

I could smell the alcohol leaving my body in the form of urine. I exhaled what seemed to be a white wind whirl byproduct of the widow I was smoking.

I continued to piss. And as I did, I could feel my cock getting harder and harder. The feeling that you get when your cock is getting bigger, in your hand, someone else's mouth or in your pants, is something so amazing to try to describe it.

I began shaking my dick, as men always do when they are done pissing. All I could think of was my friend's almost wise words: "A mouth is a mouth. As long as a mouth is wrapped around your cock, you don't really care if it's a dude's or a chick's". All I could think of was that I wanted a mouth to suck on my hard cock. Goddamn red wine, I thought. It always makes me so fucking horny. I began to masturbate.

As I continued stroking I realized that this was not my toilet. And that someone had been standing behind the ajar doors long enough to catch a glimpse of me and my cock. 

A mouth is a mouth, I thought to myself.

Dick Pound

4.22.2014

Rhapsodizing In The Men's Room

I was ready to go out that night. Friday night. A long awaited time that repeated itself every 144 hours. The week was stressful enough not to focus all my might on the glorious Friday nights. 

Ready like any other day I spritzed my favorite cologne all over my neck, chest and finally all over my black leather jacket. I was ready.

Off I went. The red moon shone down on me. Hole's music was my soundtrack that evening. I loved the way the screaming 3-riff master pieces of Miss Love would make me feel when I walked through the darkness when I went drinking.

The first time I heard of Hole was in high school. During my angsty years. I would lock myself inside my own world and write stories and verses. Enjoying every moment of dread and fear. Enjoying the darkest moments of that part of my life. Learning their songs on my guitar and bass and performing each one of their songs just for myself.

I opened the doors of A1. I descended into a loud ever-changing cloud of light, smoke and music. I took my headphones off. Rolled the cable around them and carefully placed them inside my black leather shoulder bag. I paused my iPod and continued to walk down the stairs. 

Laser beams illuminated the haze above me and all around me. My friends were waiting for me at our usual table. Like every other Friday night. A nice cold pint of beer was already there waiting for me at my place. 

Cheers!!!, we shouted. And the night had officially begun.

My friends knew that I was a quiet person from time to time. They knew this and they didn't have any problem with me just sitting next to them. I, occasionally gave voice to thoughts and I was glad they would listen and appreciate my short moments articulated clarity.

It was Hole night. At least in my head. The laser beams turned blood red and The Pretty Reckless began playing. 

"Evil knocking at my door 

Evil making me its whore 

I don't mind if you take what's yours 

But give me mine"

Taylor Momsem began teasing my brain with her wrecking verses. The night had turned into a mosh pit,a full-on, drinks and spinning heads. The party had just become a Friday night party. 

"How you like me now?

Did I succeeded in making you proud?"

I began pissing. The darkness echoed through the walls of the toilet of A1. I was all alone. I could hear the crowd moving to the beat of the rumbling guitars of Momsen. I was all alone. Deep inside my own self. 

I like you alright and I am proud of you. I thought to myself.

Hrms Etc

15.4.2014

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

Ephemeral, Something Missing

I opened my eyes. I was in the darkness of my mother's house. I couldn't tell the time. It was dark and the only things I could see where the shapes of the furniture that had been unmoved since her passing.

The air had a particular smell. I remembered that scent. I managed to go upstairs without tripping over anything. I was careful and I was afraid I would know something down and break it.

I reached my mother's bedroom. I didn't have to open the door as she never did. The doors to her room were always open. This time was not the exception The doors were wide open as she had never left. 

It had been many years since I had been in this place. So many memories. So much love. So much I couldn't move. 

Tears began rolling down my eyes. I reached for the lights. I was in the toilet. On the floor. And I was so sad. So many thing I would have liked to tell her. if only I had known that she would leave me. If I had known that, what would I have said, or done to make her happier. 

I lit a cigarette. I needed to smoke to make myself feel at least a little bit better.

A fire erupted from my zippo. It engulfed all the memories and thoughts I had been having. The fire consumed all my suffering and all the longing for being there and when it ended I had been born again. And she was there to hold my hand again. She put my head on her chest. And her heart I heard and felt.

Hrms Etc

17.2.2014

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

1979

I didn't have any friends during the first semesters of High School. I would wander around the campus looking at people. Looking at how happy they were. Hanging out and copying homework from the nerds. Planning parties and sharing adventures from the previous massive gatherings full on booze and loud music.

I didn't have any friends to walk around the school with. Nor did I have anyone to listen to the stories of a 15 year old friendless guy. Yes, I would spend most of the time at the computer lab, doing homework and surfing the internet. 

On the internet I would find the lyrics to all my favorite songs and learn them by heart. Occasionally, I would assist the class hacker with his daily schedule of playing pranks on the less knowledgeable people at the lab. It was fun, yet it was the only thing I could do to somehow interact with other people. 

I wanted a friend so badly that I would agree and cooperate with JC on installing Sub Zero on the computers so that it would be easier to perform his cyber magic. Nothing like deleting their homework, he had a policy of just having a good time opening the computers' cd tray or opening new browser windows displaying porn. Not just any porn, but the kind of porn that would make a 15 year old stare at the screen in a not-so-well-defined state of disgust and amazement. It was fucking funny to see their reactions and even funnier when one of guards would caught them staring at that pussy dripping cum from Smutland's home page. Indeed, good time to remember, just not enough.

After having had a hilarious time at the computer lab, JC's friends would come and pick him up and disappear outside in the crowd. I would then continue searching for cool pictures of my favorite anime characters.

After finishing my homework for the next day and having printed out lots of lyrics to all my favorite bands' songs I would head downstairs to the cafeteria stand in the main campus square of High School. I would always buy a Sincronizada which consisted of a flour tortilla, mashed beans, ham and cheese and carefully warmed up in a microwave oven. I would then pay and walk to the least crowded place. If I was lucky, I would find an empty bench to sit on and enjoy my lunch. If luck was not on my side I would walk towards the gardens behind the main building of my school and eat my food with great relish.

Then I would go to the toilet. I really liked to use those toilets. They were like hotel toilets. Always clean and with a fresh smell. Soap was always available and they were large and the doors of the cabins locked. And nobody would disturb you while taking a crap.

Most of the times when I went to the toilet, they were empty, which gave me more freedom of taking all the time in the world to get rid of breakfast patiently. But not that day. That day I went inside, opened the cabin's door and checked for toilet paper. I had once ran out of toilet paper and I had to quickly change cabins so that I was able to finish cleaning my asshole. That they as I pull my pants down and sat, some people came inside.

There were two guys I could tell. I sat quietly and listened. The quickly opened the doors to the toilet cabins and locked them in a jiff. I sat there and tried not to make any noise. They continued to talk about football. It hit me then. They were from the school team. They were from university. It was cool that two guys went together to take a dump in the toilet. I fantasized about cool it would be to have a friend to share something as private as shitting with. How long had they been friends to have actually found out that it was ok for them to poo at the same time at the same toilet?. 

Then, one of them started pushing harder. And a fart came out from his asshole. The sound was loud and it echoed in the emptiness of the second floor men's' room. I sat in awe. How could anyone just fart so loudly when they know they are not alone?, I thought. Then the second guy said: "Dude, that's nothing", and he let escape an even louder fart. The first one laughed. What went on was that both of them were competing to win the crown of the loudest fart of that day.

I didn't know what to think. On one hand I thought that those two guys were friends. And to me, friendship was much more than sharing loud stinky gas explosions product of a spicy breakfast. But, the idea of sharing something that most people deem disgusting and embarrassing with someone else seemed to be true friendship. 

They went on until there was no more gas to be drained and no more shit to splash against the inside of the bowl. I heard them talk about their coach and their shitty tests' results. I heard the toilet paper being pulled and unrolled. And then I heard them flush their toilets, open the doors, walk to the sinks and wash their hands. It was all done with laughter and normal conversation. 

Soon they were gone and alone in the privacy of my toilet cabin I sat. Wondering if I would ever share my farts in the same fashion with anyone.

Hrms Etc

19.2.13

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

 

Yucatan Is Not Always In Mexico

Rock music buzzed in my ears. The table I was at, was filthy and full of semi empty shot glasses of various spirits. Ash and empty packs of cigarettes decorated the flat surface of the cheap table of this bar called Yucatan. I had had many beers and shots of tequila, vodka and sometimes my own spit, in a vain attempt to keep my insides in.

Little Sister was on the loud speakers. The beat of the song made me bang my head to its rhythm in a somewhat slow motion kinda way. I needed to piss. I knew the lyrics to Little Sister as I knew what our ritualistic night would be all about, beer, tequila shots, both silver and gold, vodka chasers and beer all over again. Packs of cigarettes would disappear after the first round of cold golden non-filtered ale.

I stood up and bumped away the people sitting next to me. A loud bang followed by broken glass and cold beer splashing the floors and my shoes.This made me rush towards the urinals of this god forsaken pub. I had to piss now.

I stepped in the men's room and with my right hand tried to look for the light switch. Once I'd found it a buzzing sound came up and then a white light showed me the way. I unzipped and took my cock out. I was trying so hard to concentrate. I heard another song being played outside on the jukebox. It was another song by the Queens of the Stone Age. I could tell. I had all the albums on my ipod.

There were three urinals and I chose to piss in the last one as I never liked to use the one in the middle. The idea of having two other dudes pissing next to me was somewhat weird. I was still trying to gather the strength to get rid of the unnecessary urine in my bladder. I was trying so hard it hurt.

Then I saw this number written on the adjacent wall. It was a phone number and under it it read: "call me if you want me to blow you". What the hell, I thought, who would actually call this number. What if I call to see who is on the other side?. Fuck. Why was I even thinking of calling this number?. What if it was only a prank played to some dude and he didn't even know his phone had been advertised with such a service. It had to be a prank, there was no price listed. Who would do that for free?, especially to anyone pissing at this place?

I began to piss. What a relief. It was wonderful to finally be able to get rid of this. This place stank, but my piss was in great amount a mix of tequila, vodka and beer. I need to buy food for tomorrow. It's New Year's Eve and everything will be closed. Fuck, I need more cigarettes and maybe I will drink one more beer.

A slow song began to play. I zipped up and moved to the sink. I washed my hands and dried them on the back of my black sweatshirt. I was back at the table with my friends and the drinks were plenty.

Hrms Etc

31.12.12