The Nobodies

I had a friend and he always liked to copy everyone. Big watches and leather. Denim jackets and palladium shoes. Camel smokes and heavy metal. He always liked what he did. 

Sad or happy, he was there. Always copying our modus vivendi. Because he could. Because we let him. Because it was in. Because there was no turning back.

"The toys all smell like children

And scab-knees will obey

I'll have to kneel on broomsticks

Just to make it go away"

Marilyn Manson sang privately in my bedroom parties. Our friend always mimicked us no mattter what he thought of us. No matter what we thought of him.

A guitar solo. A poem. A tear. He always did the same. We were one. We were one big mess. Same colors. Same shadows. My walls were red. But we could spot him in the dark.

"You were my mechanical bride 

You were phenobarbidoll 

A manniqueen of depression 

With the face of a dead star 

And I was a hand grenade 

That never stopped exploding 

You were automatic and as hollow as the "o" in god"

Manson kept singing. Our friend went to the toilet. We waited. He came back. 

"How was it?", I asked

"Relieving", he fired back

"What do you mean?" I continued

"The darkness left my body", he said.

Hrms Coldwell

18.8.2014

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

Secular Haze

Satanic music played in the sound system. Hypnotic lullabies chanting charming blackness. People in the bar looked sleek and the beer was good.

"As the parish sighs in smoke

Enters the lady revealed of cloak

To the haunting sound of the monstrance clock"

Ghost sang and sang as I drowned myself in booze. The conversation at the table was somewhat uneventful. Harsh politic remarks, religion and the same shit that had become a regular thing to be brought up for many years now. I sat still and continued to drink.

"Come together, together as a one

Come together for Lucifer’s son

Come together, together as a one

Come together for Lucifer’s son"

"Are you a catholic?" Someone asked me.

"I was born and raised in one of those countries", I replied

"Do you mind the music?", he asked 

"Well", I paused, "I love Marilyn Manson", I continued

"Where are you from?" said the man

"I believe in God", I said curtly, "Just not the one everyone claims to believe in"

"Hmm, you must be happy then"

"Why is that?"

"You are in one of the most atheistic countries in the whole world", he fired back

"Hmm, I am happy here, people seem somewhat spiritual and engulfed into the fires of vice and decadence".

I stood up and walked towards the toilets. I had been rude, yet again. I didn't care. Not anymore. 

I pushed the doors open and walked into the men's room. Full graffiti and a delicate scent of lemon. I started to piss and I was at peace.  

Hrms Etc

11.12.13