The worse I did, i did to myself: A year later in recovery

Damn, last year about this time, I was just getting out of the mental hospital, I was homeless, jobless, broke, and it all seemed so damn hopeless. I was also very sick, had walking pneumonia and didn’t even know it because I wouldn’t stop the drinking and meth to get better. They tried to tell me in the hospital but I hadn’t decided if I wanted to live or not. They sedated me and gave me a flu shot. I told them I would sue them.

I thought I wanted to die.

I didn’t die.

I got sober and it wasn’t the end of the world. I started consistently taking my meds, and I didn’t lose myself. I thought being on antipsychotics and antidepressants would make me a zombie. I thought it would take away my creativity and edge. It didn’t.

I didn’t think I could turn it around. I got an apartment. I got a job. I grew up.

Yet, it hasn’t been easy. It was like the second I got some insanity, a lot of shit started happening to me. At first I thought it was karma. The first place I found to live ripped me off. It was such a nightmare I just forfeited deposit and down payment to get out of my lease. I lost like two thousand dollars. I had to move back in with my ex until I got a new place. I also started getting sick. I thought it was withdrawal symptoms. I kept going to hospital but they would just tell me it was the flu or bronchitis. It was pneumonia. I had to stay in the hospital for like a week. I lost my job. I found another apartment but without a job I completely wiped out my savings account. I got a new job and got sick again. Another two weeks in the hospital. It was like god was fuckign with me. I swear everything that could go wrong, went wrong. I fell off the bus and sprang my toe. I got gout in my right big toe. I found out that I was anemic which explained me passing out all the god damn time. My dentist ripped me off, so I can’t forget that.

Anyways, none of that I saw as setbacks but blessings. I didn’t belong in that apartment. I couldn’t afford it anyway. I need that job, I wasn’t happy. I also finally faced my health. Years of drug and alcohol abuse catches up to you. I wasn’t afraid of the failure anymore.

A year later, I knew I had changed when I met up with a friend to go hang at his house. I hadn’t seen him in a year. The last time I saw him, he was sick. He said it was just the flu but I knew it was something more. He didn’t mention it. I didn’t mention it but he was already skinny and had lost more weight. I was supposed to go visit him in the hospital when I realized I didn’t know his real name. I’d know that kid for five years and didn’t know his real name. The problem with my friend, I used to look at his life as romantic. I thought he was just as a lost soul as me. I went to him often not just to score drugs or the latest sex party, but also advice. It seemed that he always had men around him, the latest raw fuck session, getting high. It was my dream of nasty, no consequences. At least thought I pretend like there were no consequences because I figured I‘d be dead before thirty years old. Nothing really matter to me.

But it was all a lie. That’s what I knew for truth staring into that tin mirror at the state mental hospital. It was all a lie.

I went to my friend’s place and I knew I was going to get high with him. That was part of the problem with my past, all my friends did drugs. Anyways, I got to his place; I hadn’t done Miss Tina in like a year. I wanted to see if it had gotten better because the last time was really shitty. I hadn’t had really good Tina in years. I just started doing cocaine at the end of my breakdown. Anyways, I got to my friend’s place and we smoked. It wasn’t good Tina. I couldn’t feel a thing. What I really wanted was a cocktail but I hadn’t drank in like a month. At my friends house we talked about dental. He smoked so much his teeth were rotting really bad. They had been rotting for like a year, but I never said anything. My teeth were rotting from Tina smoking also, so when I got into that fight at the bar and those boys jumped me, kicked me, bruised my ribs and knocked out four of my front teeth. I couldn’t slow down enough to fix the problem. I stayed toothless for a year.

I couldn’t get high at my friend’s house. I also snorted some pain killers at my place and they weren’t giving me that much of a high. It was frustrated me terribly because what I really wanted was a drink. I decided I go buy a bottle but it wasn’t that simple. It was liquor or dinner for two days. A year ago that wouldn’t have been an issue. It would’ve been liquor. Hands down, no fucking thinking about it, it would’ve been liquor.

I was walking home with having decided that I rather eat than get drunk, when I passed a member I used to see in AA all the time. She smiled at me. I smiled back. That was it. I made it home safely.

I don’t know why her smiling at me in that moment, meant so much to me. I was half high but I wasn’t drunk. Drugs never did it for me anyway without the liquor.
I’d just miss it or want it more.

Lastly, when I got home. Tatum O’Neal was on Oprah. It was like god was trying to tell me something. She had gotten busted trying to score cocaine on the streets. That is so risky. She was ten months sober. She just got back her kids. I didn’t feel sorry for her. It’s part of the process of recovery. No one is perfect. If I saw her on the street, I’d just smile at her. “I know”

And what I know for sure after this year, AA is not for me. I go to meetings every once in awhile but I felt it hindered my recovery more than it helped. I would leave AA meetings feeling more alone and misunderstood. But I kept going until I started rebelling. Until I started drinking again and lying about it. I felt like a liar in AA because I would get a good period of time sober, then I would tell the group
And they applaud and give that token. The token would burn in my pocket and I hated counting down days like until I drank again. I felt like a failure most of the time. I felt as if I couldn’t be the perfect recovered addict. I decided to stop trying and that’s when I got free.

What I know for sure. True recovery is about self. It was about “me” I knew what I did alone when I was alone. I knew I could hide it like I did for years. I wanted to become a better alcohol, addict like some criminals do when they go to jail or prison. Not get caught the next time.

I don’t believe in rehabilitation. The system doesn’t care about the individual, just the statistics. I felt in AA I was losing my individuality and my so called “diseased” was being generalized. I knew if I wanted I could hide behind the cloak. It made people smiled when I said I was in AA or in rehab. AA taught me how to get the applause. I didn’t want to lie to myself. I know who I am when I’m alone. When I think nobody is watching.

A year ago, I looked in the mirror and I knew I had nothing. When I sought recovery, I really meant recovery. It wasn’t about drinking. I didn’t drink twenty two years of my life. It wasn’t about the drugs. It wasn’t about all the sex. It was about pain. It was about suffering and thinking that’s all I knew how to do. I grew up being abused so I thought that was life. The pain tricked my brain where I constantly lived in the past instead of reality: Real time.

It had to stop. I had to get angry. I had to get fed up. My genius plan of suffering wasn't working out anymore. I had to give myself freedom to change my mind. Even that came with consequences. Not because I won’t people to think I’m a nice person, normal, because I’m not. I’m just human. I just a human being the best I can given the circumstances.

I also know for sure, nobody gives a damn about the recovered addict. Most just waiting for the relapse like a fat person who has lost a lot of weight. “How long will it last”

When I told my landlord I was in AA and just completed an addict and alcoholic program, he still told me I had to move out of the apartment. I could no longer stay with my boyfriend. I didn’t get my relationship back. I had put him through so much he told me he wasn’t attracted to me anymore. It was weird because it felt like our entire relationship was based on me being a “fuck-up.” And the second I started acting right, he wasn’t attracted to me anymore. Aint that some shit.

Truth, I don’t count days anymore. Who gives a fuck if I’m sober a year or ten years, all they really care about is if I’m displaying erratic behavior. I get so tired of people (celebrities) say I’m going to rehab or AA like Tatum O’Neal when they really don’t believe. When they only fear the consequences of their addict behavior so they fake “I’m sorry.” I’m sorry these days is just good public relations. It’s like a husband buying his wife flowers or expensive jewelry after he cheats to deal with his guilt and delude himself he is still a good person. I say fuck the flowers and jewelry, just stop cheating or end the relationship. I say fuck Rehab and AA, stop drinking and driving. I did. After my DWI back in 1995, I decided to move to a city where I didn’t have to drive. And I say, fuck it. I’m not sorry.


The worse I did, I did to myself. I alienated a lot of people so that’s why I have very few friends. I burned a lot of bridges and opportunities because I refused to control my behavior. I was selfish. I tried to act like I didn’t give a damn, and that made me psychotic.

The worse I did, I did to myself. Fuck everybody else until I’ll have to say “I’m sorry again.”

Insecure Dyslexia

Recentlty i sorta of ended a "internet" friendship. I felt he crossed a very sensitive line with me. I know a lot of people think I don't have feelings or safe because they are miles away from me bitch slapping them. He said something about my grammar. It was as if he was calling me stupid or something. It wasn't put in a nice way.

I know i have grammatical problems. It's been my issue my entire life. It's like my mind could always figure a math problem, anything logical, but when it came to disseting a sentence, my mind went blank. Like there was a wall and I couldn't just understand it. It wasn't logical. Grammar isn't logical, but a descendent of the word glamorous. It was for rich people.

I didn't want to become a writer. I felt my grammar would get in my way. I would always have to have people read over my stuff to find the mistakes. But that's not all that easy. I used to think I would pay someone, but until i get my book deal, that's not all that easy.

I know what my issues are. One is past and present tense. I think in both. Edward Albee told me that all writers think in both tenses, but getting from our mind onto paper sometimes can be the problem. I know another issue of mine is fast typing and fast thinking. I often forget to put in words. It's funny once it's on paper, I can't see it anymore. It's like my mind is playing tricks on me. I know the word should be there and in my mind it's there, but a month later when i go back and re-read, it's not there. I feel so stupid.

Another one of my issues is words that look or sound alike. For a long time i was using the word "bowel" thinking "bile." When i look back at it, it' fucking funny, but at the time, catty queens used to love to point out all my mistakes.

I started my blog to help myself with my writing. I figured if i wrote more, then i could catch the mistakes before I started sending things out professionally. The thing about a blog, is so calvalier, I usually write them in a rush not caring for grammar or anything. But lately, I told myself i could do a lot better.

Writing for me is such an explosive process. It's like an orgasm. I just want to get it out and feel the rush. Afterwards, I don't want any cuddling, just clean up the mess until the next orgasm. But since I've fallen in love with a good man, myself, i think i know love, now writing for me is love. I want to caress it afterwards. I want the world to see it as beautiful as it flows through me.

I will keep looking at my three major insecurites with grammar, try to get better, try not to be so lazy.

Rice

Rice

I remember going without dinner many of nights not really knowing why. At the end of the month, all we survived on was rice. Butter rice. Pepper rice. If we were lucky, a slice of government cheese on top of that rice. I remember the look on my grandmother’s face every time the lights got turned off. I was poor but never really felt poor. I knew or accepted really early in my childhood that we didn’t have much, so part of me decided that I should never ask or want for more and that would guarantee my happiness. I kind of still live my life that way. I have an apartment, but for the last year I slept on the floor. I tell myself it’s because the floor is more comfortable but it’s because I’m still sleeping on the floor in my own life. It’s that deep.

A funny thing happened the other day. I was at my ex’s apartment, mostly because I had no food at my place, but he was also broke. He was spending all his money to go on some big Carnival cruise. It was funny; he said he was cooking dinner, just rice. I asked, just rice, nothing else. Then he replied he loved rice. I almost screamed. I felt tears building up in my eyes. It had been like 15 years since I had just rice. I was thirty one years old, a grown ass man with no children, and I was still eating just Rice. I felt poor. "I still ate the damn rice." I felt as if I wasn’t getting anywhere in my life. Yes, I was in an apartment I really couldn’t afford. Yes, I went through all my savings taking off work to write that damn novel but only ended up drinking and eating a lot of Popeyes chicken. Gained like twenty pounds.

My entire life I never really wanted much. As a kid, I never cared for toys because I thought they were wasteful and broke too easy. I felt all I needed was a good book and I could get that for free from the library.

But it’s nothing like eating Rice on a Sunday night with less than a dollar in your checking account that reality is humble. It was some bullshit. I needed to budget better. They say 90 percent born in poverty, return to poverty. I wonder if I really got out. I now understand poverty is not about money, it’s about perception of one’s life. I will never be materialistic. I am a very cheap bastard.

Yet, i know one thing has changed. It’s what I feel I deserve. When I was a kid, I had to accept things I couldn’t control. I never really complained because I was grateful. Really grateful just to eat. But as a man, it’s not acceptable for me. I used to think that was pride. My grandma used to say don’t ever get caught up in pride. She said she had known people who have starved or got them selves killed because of their damn Pride. I don’t have pride, but now if I’m eating rice, I want it with some chicken and a biscuit damnit. I want to get a comfortable enough bed so I can get off my floor in my overpriced apartment. RISE.

Lil Wayne kissed a boy and he liked it

Feeling fucking old because I'm five years older than MTV targeted audience. The Family guy on Fox was a rerun and on BET that every stereotype in the book "The Salon" was on. I just happened to flip on MTV that's because Vh1 was holding my Sunday shows hostage to bitch at me why I am not watching the MTV music awards. I was like what the fuck. I'm not watching because i was planning on seeing "New York" or whatever crap they have on which would've been so much better than the Jonas brothas.

That I kissed a girl wannabe was on, of course masterbating every heterosexual fantasy. At first i wasn't going to give in to but one night it somehow miracoulsy appeared on my Paradox, I guess because I was listening to Pink. Anyways, I did like the beat. It was fun. I also liked the lyrics, the girl seemed intelligent and feminist. But, why should i a black gay male give a fuck that she kissed a girl. I kissed a girl and I DIDN'T like it. She was drunk and her mouth seemed like she was trying to swallow my head. And then she stuck my hand in her pussy. I mean my entire hand!!!!! I got the hell out of there.

But the song "i kissed a girl" is so soft porn. I mean what girl hasn't kissed a girl. I'm sure all the president daughters kissed a girl. One of the nominees republican kids got pregnant. I think that would be a better more interesting song.

But i call it soft porn because it says nothing real. It she would've said i kissed a girl and ate her pussy to an upbeat, that would've shocked.

It's so lollipop. I hate the censored version of Lil Wayne's Lollipop especially when he says something about the girl pitting his nutt back in his mouth. I WAS HELLO. and to think he likes the handcops and ghetto BDSM scenes. I guess two guys singing about kissing each other is a little too gay for me but with a tight beat, i may be a little more intersted. for you old school girls, "police office, police offer, where is you Brother."

Re-born Virgin

It’s been like a year since the last time I had sex. It wasn’t intention celibacy more that I had more important things to focus on. Also, the medication I was on completely took the urge away. Sometimes I would try to jack-off and I couldn’t get there. It was very frustrating so I first told my Sexual Addiction Group and they recommended me to tell my Doctor to lower the dosage. I decided to go off the drug and just take my antidepressant. The antidepressants make it hard to cum also but not so difficult like the antipsychotic. And when I climax on the antidepressants I swear I feel as if I’m going to pass out in the middle. It’s so fucking intense. But when I told my Doctor, he increased my dosage from, 25mg to 50mg. I still don’t know why he did that but I just split it in half so that I could get my OMG ejaculations.

It’s been like a year since I had sex. I almost had sex a month ago. Shit, I’ve been such a whore; I now feel the need lie to my friends not about my suddenly nonexistent sex life. They wouldn’t believe it anyway. I almost had sex a month ago. The guy had been hounded me for like three months. I finally figured it was like losing my virginity again. I just hated carrying baggage around like it meant something being celibate. It was just coincidence like self-imposed solitary. I hate a right hand and a dirty mind, so I wasn’t backed up. Actually getting myself off for a year was pretty damn cool. I didn’t have to worry about being good enough. I was always excellent even when it was bad and especially when it hurt.

So when I finally decided to attempt to make naked in front of another man, I wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. We met online so even after a year, it felt as if nothing had changed. His first mistake after I gave him my information, he was at my apartment in ten minutes. He said he lived on the other side of town. I thought it would be like an hour. The first thing I wished for was liquor. I felt I needed liquor. Fuck sobriety. I also needed poppers and weed. Maybe some meth. But I hadn’t done hard drugs in over a year, and the liquor stores were closed.

I wonder how I would act. I got so damn nervous. I defiantly didn’t feel sexy. I wasn’t for sure if I was even horny. I wanted sex so I could stop saying I was celibate. He got to the door. He wasn’t bad looking. I decided I wasn’t taking off my tank top cuz I didn’t feel like showing my Krespy Kreme stomach.

God it felt so strange. He was a stranger. We talked, but I’m not up for talking. Most of the time it’s just lies. So I said “get naked.” He took off his clothes. I really did care about the size of his dick, but he was average. I liked seeing dick up and personal instead of on a computer screen or TV. He was a nice guy. We play around. He sucked my nipples. But no kissing. And then he turned me over and started to eat my ass. That I loved. I hadn’t had my ass eaten in like two years. And despite the condoms lying next to him on the bed, he still attempted to stick his dick in me raw.

It pissed me off. It’s not that I hadn’t had raw sex. Shit, there was a time all I had was raw sex, because I liked how reckless it was, but I wasn’t so reckless anymore. So I turned over, and I wanted it. I did. Not for him but for me. I wanted him to care. I told him to leave. He looked shocked. He asked if he did anything wrong. I told him my mind wasn’t in the right place. I was better. He took that as I was saying I was better than him. I was moving too fast. Even if it had been a year, I was moving too fast. So he left, I locked my door and went to lie in my bed. I put in a video, jacked off and went to bed.

I know if I would’ve been drunk and high, I would’ve gone through with it and dealt with consequences later. But I was a better man. Trust, I still want the sex, I just don’t know how yet.

Mama, wherever you at, it's been 25 years

i know, you know. I'm still standing here. I'm getting better.

John Edwards, you are the father!!!

I love it when politicians get caught. Especially those wide smiled, left wing, I’m more perfect than god politicians who behind close doors are cruising in airport bathrooms and paying for sex with high class prostitutes.

If I voted, I would consider the politician who outright said I smoked a lot of weed in college and because my job required urine tests, I quit. I don’t want the half baked reply that I didn’t inhale. It’s like saying I sucked his dick but I didn’t breath through my nose. Or I spat it out, so it doesn’t count.

The latest Politician to get caught with his dick out is John Edwards. I remember when I first saw him, he reminded me of Ken from Barbie. He seemed a little too polished and that creepy smile like I’m father of year --I knew was so bullshit. All women swooned because he decided to stay with his wife during the hardship of Breast cancer but still used her inconvenience as a platform for his own personal agenda. He seemed like the perfect husband, father and politician. I knew he wasn’t. I knew behind that cosmetic bleached smile and highlighted blonde hair was a secret. I thought maybe he dressed drag on the weekends, or maybe he was an alien who performed alien probes on unsuspecting homeless people. Or maybe he liked little boys, but having an affair with a hot employee, that was too typical.

I would like John Edwards to go on the Maury Polvich show. I think they should have the blonde sexy mistress and the cancer stricken wife. They should shout obscenities towards each other and then show the child in question on the tv screen. It would be fun, when Polvich tells Edwards, you are the father, and the wife jumps up from her chair, slaps him and then runs to back and throws herself on the floor, crying and screaming. That would be awesome.

Then again, who can blame him for wanted some in-shape pussy. I mean, have you’ve seen his wife. I know she has cancer but I thought sick people got thinner not fatter. I’m just saying. And it’s interesting that all these women who get cheated on usually have let themselves go. I know we heard "but she had three children" -- so did Kelly Ripa and she’s a skeleton.

I think it should be a rule, if your wife doesn’t make your dick hard, cheat on her. But I say that with fair warning because I foresee some heavy black girl stomping through the yard, knocking me to the ground, “You told Harpo to cheat on me.” Anyways.

John Edwards you are the father!

Rest in Peace

Bernie Mac dies from pneumonia. It’s not that I’m a fan but I had pneumonia twice this year. I knew I was very close to death the first time because breathing was hard and I had no energy. I remember when they sent the chaplain in my room. I was concerned, but thought it was just hospital procedure. I didn’t know the doctors didn’t think I was going to make it.

I remember the day before I started gettibg better that I could feel myself slip away. I was given a decision, to live or die. I could’ve just stopped fighting and give in to it. But I didn’t. I decided to live. I decided to get better.

I wonder if Bernie had a secret about his health. Hmmmmm

Jesus loves fags

Disclaimer: After writing "Who is Sean" I knew what I had to say about love, pain and addiction wasn't finished. I really don't consider myself a poet, but to finish exercising my demons poetry became my refuge. I just needed to finish the story now I feel I can move on from my youth. I ain't apologizing anymore. Jesus loves me.

Jesus love fags

Who cares?
I don’t
Why am I doing this?
Is so that my soul can be free
You see
I made it across the hard part
Now I got live with the decision
Cuz it wasn’t no way I was going to love
If I didn’t love myself
It sounds like bullshit
I know

And I want to say it wasn’t so hard
Once I learned to get out of my own way
And I want to say once I started to listen
Time didn’t seem so urgent
But love did
It sounds like bullshit
I know

I used to think I ruled the world
Or was I just its fool
I was here
What the fuck did I go looking for?
There
Trying not to be saved
Couldn’t save myself
I was at that party
At that club
Dancing on the dance floor
Sweat staining the tip of my jeans and underwear
Thinking I would be young forever
I was here
In dark corners flirting for erect favors
And the attention I didn’t get from my mama’s titie
On my knees, pants at ankles
Cruising parks
Sniffing poppers
Puffing cigarettes
At Man’s country, the spa
Follies in DC
Studs bookstore
Couldn’t be saved
Wasn’t trying to save myself
Thinking I’d be young forever
Early morning free clinics before work on Tuesday
I was there
Here
Painful shots in the ass for taking it up the ass
Couldn’t be saved
Wasn’t trying to save myself
In the hospital for two weeks
Then back at the drug house after discharge
Trying to charge
Youth is just another credit card
And the bill collectors were calling
Wasn’t trying to save myself
Couldn’t be saved
I was high
Smoking that 420, partying and playing 24/7
Up for four days
Drinking just to calm the nerves
On the streets
Asleep at the bus stop
Homeless
Can’t keep a job
Selling body for a hamburger
I was there
Here
Trying to be saved
Razor blade to the wrists
Didn’t think I could keep living that way I was
And I was right
So I died
Maybe it was the drug overdose
A bullet to the head
Found dead on the side of the road
My sister said I die of some fag disease
But I did die
Love killed me
Killed that life
I was here
And now I’m gone


***********************
Bathhhouse

The white towel hangs low on my hips
The cockring keeps the blood warm
My dick print teases hungry eyes
In the steam room
I reveal beaded sweat of nakedness
I part my legs on the bench
& wait for those brave enough to touch
I’m looking for touch
That’s why I paid twenty eight dollars
I want that fast love
No exchange of names
The fantasy
But it never works that way
Always a compromise
And it always feels like I’m waiting
For flirting eyes
I keep my door opened and lay on my stomach waiting
For creeping souls afraid of light
I stroke my dick
Waiting for a firm sloppy mouth
Waiting
And waiting
But it never comes
He just cums
I get off like a car that’s run out of gas
Waiting
and waiting
maybe next time
and they call my room # and try to decide if I want
to pay
another 28 dollars to wait some more
I beat my dick
slap its stubborn head around until it spills
the frustration of the wait
I decide to go home


***********************

I know I’m going to die
the Doctor at the hospital she was a bitch
they always give that same speech
I want to scream at her that I’m a grown man and don’t like lectures
but I need drugs
I want to feel clean again
she don’t understand I like to drink and get high
and I don’t always make the best decisions
she don’t understand I don’t always like myself
that I’m just a man
and I hate that feeling of failure in the daylight
I didn’t want to wake that morning with my dick leaking
and I still had to go to work
I knew I shouldn’t did what I did behind that building with that guy
but it was dark and I was high and my dick was hard
so I didn’t need the lecture
I needed the drugs
I’m going to die
I know that
probably of some stupid disease
rotting away in somebody’s hospital with bitch nurses
alone
because I’m a fuck up
I could never get it right
and I wonder if I could save myself
that after I get the drugs and clean again
if I could save myself
start over
but I’m never going to have a family
I want to scream at her that I’m gay
and I don’t believe in monogamy
and I like to drink and I don’t like rules
I’m just another tortured soul
So bored with my misery
damn I’m so bored I could just die
so I know I’m going to die
stupid and alone
just another tragic fag
so just give me the drugs to stop the leak
give me my breath
stop the night sweats
take the yellow from my eyes
heal whatever STD this is this time and tell no one
I don’t need the lecture

***********************

What do addicts dream?

I slice open the blunt with a razor
take out tainted tobacco and replace with green
baby shits in so many colors
I crush the crystal in powder because I lost my pipe
I part the coke with my credit card that bill collectors keep calling about
I filled the sprite bottle with vodka
I’m safe
for a moment

when I inhale the ghastly smoke
let the vodka tickle my throat
the meth tells me to give it everything
and I’m safe
because I’m dreaming
that life could be better

what do addicts dream?
I yell into the coke mirror
trying not to breathe so hard to blow away the powder
that’s my life
trying to not breathe to hard that I blow away

and when I’m high
that feeling that’s so numbing, that I feel nothing
just want to feel good
that’s what addicts dream
to be nothing

and I hate my mother
and I hate all those motherfuckers who gave up on me
and I hate so damn much these days
and then the tears swell
and I could feel myself feeling again
so I take another drink from the vodka
hit the blunt some more
snort the meth
and then I feel safe
like I’m in my cage
because the world is a cage
and if I don’t tweak
and they don’t’ see I’m so nervous
like the a dead man walking
maybe they will love me
maybe that’s what the addict dreams
to be loved


***********************
Raw

Should never stuck in it
But I was tired of playing it safe
I was nineteen
dark skin so drowning
ass a full moon
laying like a dead body on stains sheets at the bathhouse
he always had his door opened
inviting the wicked to his flame
the only guy I could fuck because I never saw his eyes
he was my nigga fall
I didn’t want to be real
he was like my rape when I was five years old
loved how he just took and never told
loved how he arched his back
wanted to be him
he was nobody like the used condoms on the floor
loved how he made me feel normal
when I fucked him, I always
gave him my babies
and when I finally saw his face
eyes like knives, lips like sandpaper
old like not too many years to celebrate birthdays
so I kissed him
wanted his death to take me to the grave
with him
but I was still too young

***********************
Looks how it shines for you

When I’m in love
I’m in love, so tragically
Write you love poems, bring you roses everyday
But when I hate, everything must end
Kick you out of my bed; tear up all your pictures
Plot murder
Everything about you must end

When I’m in love, we have romantic dinners
I try to be good, love you like Jesus would
But when I’m rejected
I’m the last circle of hell
Burn nigga
make sure the world knows you’re a fraud

so when I’m in love
I’m waiting to hate you

when I’m in love
I’m hold you close, play with your toes
cook you pancakes for breakfast
but when I think you leaving me
I call the landlord
take you off my lease, close the all the accounts, want you to starve to death

when I’m in love
I give you my wallet
try to buy you the world
but when I hate you
I want to destroy everything you were
get you fired from your job
thinking about killing you in your sleep
picks fights
bloody your nose
make you plot to kill me
fuck up your life like calling all your co-workers and tell them you a child molester

when I’m in love I think about our kids
us as old folks feeding the birds
but when I hate you
I’m not myself anymore
gave you too much

when I love you
don’t want to be your past mistakes
don’t want our happiness to be a lie
so when I love
I’m scared
because I need to survive you
everybody is always lying
they say shit and don’t mean
they act like there’s no consequence
they act like others don’t mean it

so when I’m in love
I’m waiting to hate you

***********************

The pretty tortured souls

they look so innocent
how can something so pretty ever hurt you?
be so destructive
somebody took his pride when he was eight
mama lost herself on crack
daddy got himself killed when he was five
nobody was there to protect, he was just another nigga sacrificed
so he fucked him hard behind a tool shed, he’s only been meat
grew up to be bought
nobody ever protected him
arrested development
somebody was always going to use him
they look so innocent like leopards
grew claws to get back at the world
even if he pays money he has to pay for past wrongs
somebody didn’t love
maybe that’s what attracts them, that pain in his soulful eyes
he sees the old man like death
didn’t have a relationship with men who grew up to be men
only had relationship with men who used, told himself he must use first
they drive around in their fancy cars; want to spend crisp ATM bills for fantasy
it’s like the zoo, don’t feed the animals
he’s so young and full of cum
the wild animals attract to kill
old men chasing footprints of their youth like picking out coffins
nobody is trying to get saved, what would Jesus do, get his dick sucked?
he’s so beautiful he must be slaved, too easy to love
we let the ugly ones die
he so starved not eating for days
he needs the money
until the ugly reveals itself
until the threat reveals itself
until the truth reveals itself
until he reveals himself
no more illusion
no more artificial
and then they leave when it gets too heavy
he got too deep
the pretty tortured soul drinks too much
can’t be control, throws fits
he hits and curses and destroys
he can’t be control
the pretty can’t just be hung up on a wall
everything rots

***********************
Tina hit a three in the morning

he says gay men are all the same
we need the addictions
that we all drink or do drugs
I was thinking he was just talking about people like us
the others lie
try to pretend they don’t go to bathhouses, weren’t getting fucked on camera at Blkatino
aint picking up the trade boys
too many saying keep my secret that I’m a HIV counselor but don’t wear a condom
I got to his house and he had porno on all the televisions
the fuck music basing in the background
I was just trying to get high
ran out of liquor decided I needed drugs
he says gay men are all the same
I was just thinking how he was gong to get my dick hard

***********************

Fisted

change
maybe I wanted to be changed
it was kink
thought it was just the next level
already been pissed on
first time tasted like purple
laid on my back legs opening like I was giving
birth to myself
he said he could show me
something different like the conspiracy
a whore virgin I said cool, thinking there were no more doors
I took a hit of “I don’t want another hero”
my water broke, or was that him pissing on my hole
the cold jlube ice cube
the strange sound of Crisco lubing hands bawling to fight
feeling filed down fingers
he said breathe

so intense, I think I’m losing my breath
reminds me of the first time I was fucked
thinking he’s never going to get that in me
and then the robbery
felt myself stretch like I was going to break
but remembering flesh isn’t glass
asking him to stop and then start over
but he said he couldn’t, there’s only one window like time traveling
feeling myself push out the wound
and I hate my mother
felt the knuckles push pass the resistance
I took a sniff of poppers
and he was in
my body re-calibrating
my mind trying to fight it
my body not trusting it
my soul wanting it
he pulls out, and I cry like a new born baby
this is my life now
I don’t hate my mother anymore
I’ve been fisted
The story of my life
But this time it felt good

***********************

He lied

He used to make it look so easy
Like it would never hurt you
The marathon sex parties
The drugs
Life was no rules
But it was all a lie

Tim
he doesn’t understand that I’m trying to change
I got syphilis the last time
at his raw sex party
got spots on my body I have to explain
and he was the first person to introduce to me the drugs
and I wanted to be free
but didn’t know that was suicide
and I’ve always been a fucked up
and they always expected that of me
but I was once the hot boy
and now I’m the leopard
leprosy

Tim
the last time I saw him
we got high on “I don’t want another hero”
two lost souls the world had forgotten
he said he was in the hospital for year
he called his mother and she blocked the phone number
he almost died, alone
I guess that’s gay

and I remember my uncle in the back of my grandmother’s room
nobody was to touch him
he had AIDS at the end of the eighties
all those he dance with on the floor, disappeared
those he rode in the convertibles with their hair blowing in the wind
abandoned
all those said they would love his beautiful youth forever
got old
most gay men are cowards
that’s why we die so easily
and don’t we all go home
back in that dark room we so tried to escaped
isn’t gay life just about being used and used?
and the family we needed to get away
that which we thought wouldn’t accept us
bury
I don’t want to die alone
trust me all the fucking compliments never keep you warm
when your temp is a 105

Tim called to read me his obituary
he didn’t really had nothing to say
it was more like a kid begging his parents to love him
just dates nothing why he lived
I hung up the phone in face
The next week I found myself in a mental hospital

I used to think
when I died when I was old
didn’t think that would be thirty years old
and it’s not a moral lesson
fuck the PSA
when I thought when I died
I would think of all the sexy men I fucked
and that would give me peace
but the truth when you’re dying
you think of all the sexy men that fucked you over
the ones that lied
the ones to coward to say anything
that you didn’t say anything
nobody wants to die
even the suicidal
nobody said anything

Tim
he’s like the devil calling
I get online and I’m not really looking
I told him I was clean now
He laughed; told me to come over, quit my lies
I told I would come over but never showed up
A month later he called again
I told him I was sober and working
He said it wouldn’t last
I missed him
I thought we were more than just drug addicts
Six months later he called and just rambled
I listened
I told him I was still sober
I gave him a number to call if he wanted
He stopped calling me
I am waiting Tim
It looks hard in the beginning
But every dick goes soft and we always have to come back to reality
Call me when you’re ready


***********************
one last time

it’s always one last time
like one last breath
play and be serious tomorrow
but tomorrow never comes
I’m constantly lying to myself
maybe I am an addict

***********************
Wild Eyes

I thought of you the other day
in the mirror
saw your reflection
as I fired up my meth pipe and inhaled bitter smoke
I had your eyes
those wild eyes like a car crash and nobody survived
I wondered if you would’ve been proud
or just want a hit from my pipe
I wondered if I would’ve shared
mommy and son getting high together
maybe sister can share too since she lost her baby to the courts
we could take a picture for the Christmas card
and then I laughed because I’m a grown man with my own problems
and I always knew what you did in that bathroom alone
because you always had those wild eyes
My wild eyes made me feel closer to you
As I sat in the bathroom alone firing up my pipe
Trying to figure out
If I had a problem
Because I didn’t recognize myself anymore
I wanted to be sober

***********************
ACT II, I ain't apologizing

When they ask
I’m going to say
I just got tired
Staring into that mirror at the State mental hospital
Eyes red, hair wild
Bandages on my wrists from self mutilation
I just got tired
It was that simple
I had enough of punishing

my mother

the rape

my family

me
I forgot what the fight was even about

I just realized I wasn’t the person staring back at me in the mirror
they told me i was the demon

that i was crazy

tried to over medicate me

i tried to to medicate me

but i wasn't that demon

just pocessed

and that day i finally saw him in the mirror

scared the shit out of my like finding the monster under the bed is real

i then knew i could heal

I wasn't crazy

I can’t say one day I woke up and just starting loving myself
Love isn’t a destination
Happiness isn’t a destination
I guess I woke up and decided to respect myself a little
I changed my mind

I haven’t made it to heaven
I just got across the hard part
Now I must live with the decision
To not die today
That’s all

So I ain’t saying I changed
Lord knows how many times I’ve said that bullshit
But I no longer lose my soul after the first drink
Just got it out of the pawnshop
Plan to keep it this time around

I haven’t learned a damn thing.

It’s been a year since I started my so called “recovery.” Since that time I spent a month in program. I went to AA and stayed sober for 90 days. And then started relapsing like crazy. I quit AA because I couldn’t deal with all those boring people and their boring stories and feeling like I wanted to drink more every time I left a meeting. Actually quitting AA helped my drinking a lot. I did less.

In the past year I’ve been fired from five jobs mostly due to illness. I was in the hospital five times this year. It was like once I gave up the drugs and alcohol my body went into shock. It was as if the addictions were keeping me alive or oblivious that my body was falling apart.

This past year I also started my mental illness medication. That was a rollercoaster ride. In the beginning, they had me on seroquel and I don’t recommend it. I also had to change my therapist because I felt she wasn’t listening to me. I wasn’t getting the help I need. I went on so many anti-depressants and anti-psychotics. I kind of felt like a lab rat. It was ironic because the meds seemed to drive me more insane. I finally got a dosage my mind and body could handle. I finally feel somewhat balance.

I guess in reflection, I am still somewhat crazy. I still get drunk but not as often. I still fight to control it but I know deep down I just wanted to slow down not actually quit. I managed to slow down so I’m happy for now.

I am also happy I got my bipolarism and depression under control. I hated the depression. It’s so consuming. I haven’t thought about killing myself in months. I guess that’s progress.

I’m ready to move one with my life, focus on something different than my issues. I still feel very strongly about addictions and mental illness. It’s been really therapeutic talking about my issues this past year and if I bored anybody out there, go suck on it.

Now, back to the regular program.

Am I addicted to poppers?

I knew I was going to get attitude. Every week I go into the same bookstore owned by this hippie looking Asian guy. He is usually cool but he does watch you like a hawk as if I might steal something. On Tuesday, I was in a rush; I just ducked in and got my popper. I asked specifically for Jungle Juice plus the big bottle. I’ve tried pretty much every popper there is, but I like Jungle Juice the best. I didn’t notice until I got home that he had given me the wrong poppers. He gave me Jungle Juice platinum. There is a major difference. The latter sucks, it’s not as strong but it gives you less of a headache. I don’t like Jungle Juice platinum. I don’t like the smell and it really doesn’t do anything for me.

So the next day I decided to take the poppers back. I knew I had opened it because I didn’t notice the difference until it was too late. I thought about just keeping it, but poppers are fucking expensive and I didn’t want to just throw twenty five dollars away. I decided to take the poppers back.

Of course I knew he was going to give me attitude. It was a very bold thing for me to do. I didn’t care. It took about twenty minutes of us arguing before the bastard finally decided to give me the right poppers. The customers in the store looked at me like was it really that serious. Yes, it was that damn serious. I’m serious about my damn poppers.

I do need to leave them alone.

Letting myself go

My therapist told me I was letting myself go. I guess cuz I showed up at her office in flip flops, gym shorts with stains on them and a torn t-shirt. I really didn’t want to go to therapy that day but was out of my meds. I haven’t cut my hair in three months or shaved or brushed my teeth. Well I figured rinsing out with Listerine was enough. It wasn’t like I was trying to impress anybody.

I was walking down the street and a friend passed me right up. I knew he wasn’t being shady. I called out his name and at first he just looked at me like I was some social terrorists. Then he looked deeper and realized it was me. He seemed shocked. It was as if I had become some crackhead. I was just going to the grocery store I didn’t feel like getting pretty.

Actually I haven’t felt like getting pretty in a long time. In a way I kind of felt that my looks betrayed me. I hated being good looking. I really did. I hated strangers constantly stopping me on the streets. I hated that stupid question, are you a model. I hated how some guys I knew became so possessive. I hated that my best friend was secretly jealous and often took it out inconveniently that’s why we aren’t friends anymore. I felt like being good looking was a curse that I wanted to get rid of. And maybe that’s why I got into so many fights, trying to get bruises on my face, ugly myself up. I hated jealous bitches always wanting to start something for no reason. I know some people would say, being good looking should be a good thing and looks don’t last. Yes, they don’t last so why waste my time obsessed with it. When you’re good looking people like to see you age. They are waiting for the flaws. They say shit like he used to be as if they owned something.

I agree, looks will get you in a lot of places. I didn’t pay rent for ten years. I got into clubs and went on vacations for free. I did modeling and some acting, but all that was professional. I didn’t want to be a professional good looking person. I didn't feel like the upkeep. I figure if i get fat one day, i will just start one hell of a porn collection. I think sometimes we all should just let go. I see those make-over shows and you know the person goes back to looking like their tired self in about a month. I ain't Tyson Beckford. I got a gym membership but only used it to go to the bathroom.

But I had a moment the other day. I had to wake up early to go to the post office and then I was off to McDonalds. I grabbed my change cup filled with quarters, nickels and pennies because I didn’t want to use cash. I like to make the fast food workers use their math skills. It’s my way of giving back to society. Anyways, I just jumped out of bed, my hair all wild, slipped on my flip flops and a dingy t-shirt and went to the post office. At McDonalds I was in line counting my change when I realized that I might’ve looked homeless. It was a surreal feeling. I asked myself if I cared that the cashier was being an extra bitch and turning up her nose like I stank, which I did cuz I hadn’t put on deodorant in like a week or took a bath. I wanted to scream at her that I graduated college, had an apartment and in 2004 and 2005 I was hot boy of the week. But it didn’t matter. I was hungry and just wanted my food.

I got home, and after eating my food I decided to shower, brush my teeth, shave and cut my hair. I shaved my entire body and splash myself with my favorite cologne. I felt clean and pretty and like a sell out.

I haven’t let myself go. I let myself out of that damn gay box of gyms, designer knock-offs. I’m not pretty, never wanted to be pretty. I wanted to be tough, dirty, messy fingernails, maybe a black eye and a couple of missing teeth. That’s how I see myself. I see myself as cockeyed and snaggle tooth and you're still going to love me.

Smile, bitch

Sometimes my horoscope can be on the mark. Today it said "Don't be impatient with yourself right now. It takes time to learn something new."

Funny, it couldn't be more true trying to recover.

Sex change

I’m making the decision today to change my sex sites internet profiles. I really don’t use the internet to hook up as much as I used to. Actually I haven’t had a hook-up from the internet in over a year. What changed?

First, I guess I got tired of the energy it took. I would sit there with my cocktail and just go back ad forth from one site to the other, hoping for something tasty. I usually didn’t get tasty but fat and desperate, and as the day dragged on, I realize I had been sitting in front of my computer screen for hours, sometimes days especially when I was doing crystal meth. It seemed so unnecessary. I knew I could be out in the sun, at a movie, hanging with friends, instead I was feverlishly looking for sex. I started to dislike myself. I felt addicted.

Funny, every day I check my sex site messages. I guess it’s like checking my yahoo messages. Every day I sign on to all my sex sites. I’m not really looking, I guess I’m just seeing if anyone is looking for me. It feels good to get messages. I like the attention. It’s not about sex but the pic I have up is sexual. I laid across the bed buck naked. I know to a stranger it conjure pornographic fantasies. I’m selling sex but not really looking. I get all kind of crazy replies. They say stupid shit like “I could ride that all night” or “me and my boys are looking to cum bang that” or “I bet you can take some good dick.” Even if all the above is true, I’m not always in the mood. I feel guilty for have logged on because I don’t want to be a tease.

So what is my problem? I guess for me it’s all changed. A friend of mine hit me up the other day and he said he had been having a sex orgy for a week. He wanted me to join. I had no desire. I was’t the ho I used to be I guess. I couldn’t think of anything more boring than going to a sex orgy. I also knew he was lying about how many guys were coming over. They never show up and I’d just be at his house, getting high and trying to look for sex online. I didn’t want to waste the time. It’s all fantasy. I guess that’s the problem. Even gay men lie about their so called hot hook-ups. They exaggerate. I’ve exaggerated. But really, most of the time my online hookups sucked.

So what is my problem? I guess I’m trying to decide if I still want to play the game. I guess I’m trying to decide the new direction in my life. I was reading this book about energy and it really got me to thinking. I wanted to stay conscious of the type of energy people bring into my life and what I give out into the world. It’s said people either take or give energy. I never understood that more until I was in the hospital. I was sick and needed to recover but hospitals can sometimes be madness. They come in and just start poking, checking blood pressure and temptature, asking the same damn questions over and over again and making incorrect assumptions that constantly need correcting. And nurses were like one night stands, most of them just doing their shifts, rushing into the room to take blood or vital signs or give pills, but it was their energy with each nurse that affected me getting better. Some nurses were just bitches, they came in entitled like just because they went to nurse school for two months they were experts or something. They didn’t look you in the eye, they grabbed your arms aggressively, or where at little too aggressive, they ruined your entire mood for that five minutes. They came in and took energy because I went from sick to angry to frustrated to hopeless and depressed. I would feel so weak after those nurses left having to argue about my medication or something stupid. That I didn’t want the windows opened. That I didn’t want to walk around but sleep.

And then there were nurses who brought me energy. He came into the room and smiled. Who explained to me my medication. Who when I asked for a bucket of ice didn’t like at me like I just spit in their face. I felt safe when those nurses left. I felt rejuvenated and that would make me want to get out of bed. It would make me want to get better.

I know I probably just rambled there for a second but I guess that’s how I’m beginning to see my sex life. I’ve become aware of the type of energy people bring into my life and if it’s stealing or giving to me. I’ve had hook-ups that just drained my energy. Nothing went right and when the person left I would feel depleted. I’d never want to see that person again. And I’ve had hook-ups that were just beautiful. The person gave me energy because they showed up with no bullshit. They looked me in the eyes. There was a connection.

So what is my problem? What about me? I have to first recognize the type of energy I’m advertising. I guess my energy used to be just sex. It was that of a lost soul. I put up a lot of walls. I guess my energy had always been that of mistrust so I attracted a lot of bastards I couldn’t trust.

Honestly, I need to accept that I’m no longer looking for fast love. I’ve someone become a romantic. I’m looking for sexual rejuvation. But what happens when I get horny? I got no where with this blog. I just talked myself into a circle.

please stop falling down drunk

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p1FchXXDs84

Uncomplicated

Well I know i often make my life more complicated than it should be. I don't really try, i guess it's part procastination, nonchalance and laziness. I'm very lazy. I mean I'm like fungus lazy, just lay there until someone notices that i probably don't belong.

Life really don't have to be that complicated. I try to remember that when i get overwhelmed especially with all the problems I'm having with my ex. I tell myself to just walk away which is really hard because i want to be right. I want him to know that i was right. But now i just look at him and think to myself what am I winning. It's obivious i already lost, so i decide to not make it more complicated. I just go quiet.

I think life becomes complicated when we stop paying attention, get lazy and then suddenly we're drowning. I think life becomes complicated when we think we're smarter than the truth. I think life gets complicated when we try to take shortcuts. I know for sure there are no shortcuts.

Why am I still here?

It seems lately my blog has been about my ex. I guess for the tenth year breaking up is still hard to do. I mean we have been breaking up for fucking ten years and it’s nerve wrecking. Our relationship went from New Orleans where we met, to Chicago where I lived with him, to a long distance relationship when I moved back to Texas and then I moved to New York and then I moved back to Chicago with him and then I left him and moved back to Texas for Grad School and then I moved back to Chicago to be with him and then we broke up again and I moved back to Texas and then he moved to DC and a year later I moved to DC to be with him again.

Actually we living in DC has been the longest we’ve been together. I think its five years. Well, actually I didn’t move to DC to be with him, I moved because I had no where else to go. I love him, lord knows I do, but the fucking merry go round is enough to make me want to really hurt him physically.

Lately we’ve been arguing a lot. Actually I think the last year has been the worse of our arguments. He’s been distance, bored, detached, don’t want to touch or be touched. He looks at me like he just wants me to disappear but can’t find a place to hide my body yet. I look at him as judgmental, he always got something to say, he’s so fucking routine, that I should stay at my apartment more because he has too many rules for his damn apartment. It’s like living with your grandfather. I don’t need him. Those days are over. I used to need him financially because I was unemployed but that has changed.

The other night he wanted to argue because I decided to go to the bar which I’ve been doing a lot lately. He said he didn’t want me to come home drunk. OF course I was coming home drunk. He doesn’t like me drinking in the house. He says I get to talking and won’t shut up. He’s right. I guess I’m that cliché drunk. I like my rum and coke and start listening to music and suddenly I got an opinion on everything. I like to talk. I know it annoys the hell out of him because I’m disturbing his computer time of downloading porn all damn day. That’s all he does lately is download porn and illegal movies and music. It’s like he’s waiting to die or something. He just goes to work, come home, get on the computer, stay there until bed time, go to sleep on the couch, wake up, go to work and do the same thing everything day. He doesn’t want to go out; he hates restaurants, move theaters or anything with crowds of people. He doesn’t go to concerts because he says I just complain the entire time, which is true.

And we don’t have sex. We haven’t had sex in years. I always found him boring in bed, like it was a waste of my time. In the beginning I guess the sex was okay, but he wouldn’t grow. He wanted to do the same thing over and over again. Of course that led to WW3 with him. I first ignored then and then it just got insulting. I mean, there is more than one sexual position and he was so damn stubborn about it. He just refused change. IT was his way or no way. So it was no way and I started cheating.

Considering our arguments from the last couple of month, he is right, “Why am I still here?” I have my own apartment, I take care of myself, and there really isn’t any need to just hang around. I used to consider him my friend, like my best friend. I don’t really have any other friends anymore especially in DC. It’s just been us for the last five years. I do everything with my ex. I can’t just stop.

I guess what I can’t get through my head is that he doesn’t consider me his best friend. I think I just go that.

Breaking up is so hard to do. I can’t imagine what divorce would be like especially with kids. It’s enough to avoid love. Why do we fall in love? I’ve had this happen to me before and it took so damn long for me to get over it.

Damn, I just want him to act right, act like he used to act, why did he have to go and change. I just want to act right, be whatever he wants me to be without too much compromise and I went and changed.

And for your question “T*****” I’m still here because I don’t know how to leave. I mean I try. I try to put one foot in front of the other and it’s just like a dog chasing his tail. I keep going round and round. And then I’m also scared to leave because the second I do something will happen and I am back.

It’s like death. When my best friend Mita died it was hard in the beginning. I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t be with her anymore. I couldn’t hug or kiss her anymore. I missed her physically. I couldn’t just pick up the phone and call. I had to learn to live without her because she wasn’t there, anywhere only in my mind and dreams. But with my ex, he is still there. I can touch him but don’t. I can call him. He will pick up the phone but I can’t do it. It seems so stupid to me.

Somebody once said, the most difficult part of life is dealing with all the loss. One day he will look up and not have to ask why I’m not there, because I won’t be there. But I will always be there.

blame it \o me

tonight my feelings were so hurt and i don't understand why he would do that. i mean, the information he has, maybe he's not smarter emotionally than a fifth grader.


so it's supposed to be about how others thinks they know where you going. We're just going to die. I'm so fucking angry right now.

Round and Round

Last night I found myself passed out in front of the Smithsonian Art Building downtown. Well I went out to the bar which I haven’t been in like seven months. I don’t go out on Wednesdays anymore because I always felt it was too much drama. Anyways, I decided to go out because I was bored and I just gotten fired the week before and I had nothing to do the next day.

I told myself before I went out that I wasn’t going to get drunk. I was only to take five dollars with me because the drinks were free from 10-11, but I ended up grabbing a twenty out of my wallet, just in case. I didn’t want to be stuck at the bar wanting a drink and not being able to have a drink. I guess that was my first mistake.

My thing with drinking these days is the type of liquor. I used to cheap the cheapest crap I could find. It wasn’t until I started drinking what I would consider quality rum that the hangovers weren’t so bad. I went back to Bacardi because it seems to agree with my body more, but is still not say I don’t overdo it. But cheap liquor I find dangerous. It’s that rotgut, it makes you crazy. I guess that was my second mistake last night was the cheap liquor at the bar. Of course my limit of just four drinks turned to about ten drinks. I started feeling good. I wasn’t angry or anything. I fought feverously the voices in my head that begged for me to start something stupid shit like a fight. Of course by the end of the night, I was failing miserably trying to be a decent drunk. I got into some arguments with some idiots. It was as if I picked up where I left off the last time I was at the bar. I thought I had changed.

I guess that was my main problem last night realizing that even after almost of year of disappearing from the scene, I came back and nothing had change. It was the same people. I mean some of them had gotten a little fatter or older but in the dark and cocktails it was like time was still. I seemed to be really upset that nothing had evolved. I don’t know what I was looking for. I guess I was looking to see how much I changed hadn’t been away for so long in AA meetings, therapy and recovery. But it was so easy to go back when I started drinking. I didn’t want to feel like I didn’t belong anymore. The bar used to be my friend and I missed it.

I was in the bathroom and I was staring in the mirror when a bunch of young queens burst in the door. The stood behind me as I washed my hands. I just happened to look up and see their youthful faces clash with my aging eyes. I guess when they looked in the mirror they just saw their perfect smiles, small waistline, not the truth. They were young, the truth would come later. I stared in the mirror and realized how much time has passed staring into that mirror. I’ve seen myself in the mirror for five years. I seen me desperately try to hold on to the frivolousness of youth but time is sober. I remember smiling in that mirror behind the young queens and I knew I was no long part of that reality anymore. I was just an aging drunk. I had become the old man.

I left the bar and head home. I felt conflicted. I was still in the transition trying to figure where I belonged in the black gay community again. When I was younger, it was because I was young and cute and others acted like that was enough. It wasn’t enough. I thought to myself I should be happy with my life because not once did I have to flirt for a drink, not once did I feel as if I had anything to prove but I was still lonely. I guess that was what it was, I was lonely. Old men don’t find comfort so fast because no one is trying to save them.

I got home and I just wanted to cuddle up with my ex. I remember when it used to feel as if he was holding me back, that I felt he was ruining my sex life pushing the monogamy thing. Now, I sometimes can’t wait to get to him. The world isn’t so easy for me anymore. I just want to get home because I know at least one person still sees me. When I got home, I was drunk and convinced myself I was angry. I didn’t know why. I guess I felt my ex hadn’t been paying me enough attention. When I got out of my clothes and got in bed with him I could feel him stiffened like someone covering their nose from a stench. I probably reeked up liquor. I lay next to him naked, pulled him closer but he refused. He woke up and yelled at me that I was drunk. He wasn’t in the mood. I got pissed off. I felt that he should just accept the situation, that all I was going to do was passed out. But he wanted to argue about it. I decided to get up and get dress and go to my apartment. But it was three o’clock in the morning which meant I was going to have to wait until the Metro opened. I got dressed and left. I was so pissed. All I wanted was some damn affection. I didn’t find in the bar. I didn’t find it with my ex. So I got downtown and the Metro was closed. I went to the steps of Smithsonian to just wait it out. I passed out on the step. The six o’clock morning sun woke me up. And then suddenly it all seemed so stupid again. I knew I was going to have to apologize to my ex. I decided to go back to his apartment and go to sleep. For him, it was just another night. For me, it was the desperation of change and not knowing exactly how to handle it. The life I knew had ended, I was somewhere in limbo.