Beloved Howard,
Through my very own concussion concocted for my own personal agenda....I could hear the cracks well enough...the cracks now pounding and throbbing against my cranium....and the fresh cracks now opening up...trying to allow some of my resonating thoughts to be let out....for some of my own(again and cringes) creations to seep out and float far far away for me..
I do NOT need this...I did NOT bargain for this....THIS is the part I’m always afraid of...the part where I have to literally force myself to see the better, the clearer, the bigger picture...all to be given eventually the same old response I have dreaded throughout my life....The same old response that makes me cringe for an eclipsed day...and an undying night...where I can sink into my very own pits f hell....transform into the real me...the weird alien in every situation....the man against every word ever written for anything positive...the man every other man hates....and the man who likewise hates every other man...Even the thoughts of being with my Ghost are not placating enough right now...
The truth lies in the simple honest response...An apology that goes unanswered perhaps beats the living crap out of you...and if a confession of genuine feelings towards someone also goes unanswered at the same time.....it leaves the person undone for life...and nevermind the facade now...it serves no purpose..
I am falling through my pit unending and helpless....my own not overeager to escape my lips scream barely reaches the walls and the faintly disappears against its own echo...which is also absorbed by the very moss on the walls....There’s moss.....I thought I would be past noticing anything.....My very own hell....with no fire....just splitting headaches and facing the world of rejection every second of my existence....Roxie....I know how you felt....EVERYTIME!!!
Nullified by my very own ego, I cradle in my own hearth....stoking the fire with my bones....and my hair braided together and gelled in my tears to dry up to make a good poke....(I’ve always had good texture). There aren’t enough undertakes to collect my pieces and burn them for the poison that they are....so they let them lay....and dry up on their own...and wither with natural decomposition...
Goodnight Love
Yours finally at Peace
Choleric
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
X and Z...
Beloved Howard,
What an X is capable of, we have already been exposed to in an inspirational, somewhat defined yet highly enjoyable and unending monologue by God...so I will not launch in to one of my own monologues about the power of an X, which is obviously extremely paradoxical coz these letters are nothing but monologues, where I have never been able to get a single response from you EVER love.
A ‘Y’ in my life seems highly unlikely and therefore I am forever and very helplessly if I may add, pondering over the X and the Z. I am forever pondering over my Z and a home with him at the end of the world...where he sings to me and I sit on the floor and sketch his various forms. I ponder over the X with whom I nearly had a home at the end of the world and with whom I sat on the floor and sketched other forms. The same X with whom I once shared Bed n Breakfast...and the same man whose scent wouldn’t leave me for days. He is the same man I once tormented into appreciating the larger things in life....and even though I was recently spotted defending small things...I am STILL the God of Big Things....wherein the small things remain small and unnoticed, as is their purpose and place in the world.
This X...the Ghost as you may recall....has often thought of me at the most inopportune of times...mostly when I am fantasising about other men his age...or even pleasuring them. It’s as though he sits in the shadows, waiting with “breath that is bated”....for me to find something close to the average wholeness I have resigned to accept in his absence, and then he makes his move...makes me fall in love with his voice every time I have tried to hear what other voices are trying to sing to me. He was my albatross to carry for the past three years, an albatross I sometimes resigned to hug and make love to despite it being dead. He was my “ORIGINAL” sin. He was my first brick on the pathway to eternal damnation. YET, I cannot help but give in to the fact that there may be diversions along the way...but it is possible to find somebody who completes you in the first round of stepping in the ring. The bell clangs and you are pushed out of your closeted corner to face the “enemy”. The “enemy” here being the Ghost...the Ghost who unlike other spirits did not continue and move further away from me...it stuck along for the ride...and followed me around to my bed everyday...when I would wake up with a moistness in my palm, and goose pimples on my neck...as though He’d held my hand through the night and kissed my neck as I stirred awake. When I’m finally awake a whispered cry escapes my lips...a cry for him to cradle me against his sweet smelling chest and a cry to take me...Right here in the middle of my R.E.M.
The Ghost never once after my crass dismissal showed up again, not even to hear my apologies, but one day by the hand of “my new Goddess?”, he startled me awake one night, and his wispy voice breaking through the dimensions of bad reception, choked out the words I realized I’d been longing to hear only then, “I miss you to death.....”. The confession was followed by a very “pregnant pause” ..and then when I found my voice, groggy and confused from not having been used for so long(read three years)...”I miss you too...I’ve never stopped missing you...I can’t even being to tell you how much”......
The confessions were followed by a resolve....I know what I want...there isn’t much I have to lose...I will persevere...and I will make myself unavoidable..And irresistible...
The Ghost was driven away using a combination of Voodoo and other cauldron tricks I never knew I was aware of...those same tricks seem to be needed now...for the concoction of my Z....for eternity this time...
Goodnight Love
Yours in Deep Love
Choleric
What an X is capable of, we have already been exposed to in an inspirational, somewhat defined yet highly enjoyable and unending monologue by God...so I will not launch in to one of my own monologues about the power of an X, which is obviously extremely paradoxical coz these letters are nothing but monologues, where I have never been able to get a single response from you EVER love.
A ‘Y’ in my life seems highly unlikely and therefore I am forever and very helplessly if I may add, pondering over the X and the Z. I am forever pondering over my Z and a home with him at the end of the world...where he sings to me and I sit on the floor and sketch his various forms. I ponder over the X with whom I nearly had a home at the end of the world and with whom I sat on the floor and sketched other forms. The same X with whom I once shared Bed n Breakfast...and the same man whose scent wouldn’t leave me for days. He is the same man I once tormented into appreciating the larger things in life....and even though I was recently spotted defending small things...I am STILL the God of Big Things....wherein the small things remain small and unnoticed, as is their purpose and place in the world.
This X...the Ghost as you may recall....has often thought of me at the most inopportune of times...mostly when I am fantasising about other men his age...or even pleasuring them. It’s as though he sits in the shadows, waiting with “breath that is bated”....for me to find something close to the average wholeness I have resigned to accept in his absence, and then he makes his move...makes me fall in love with his voice every time I have tried to hear what other voices are trying to sing to me. He was my albatross to carry for the past three years, an albatross I sometimes resigned to hug and make love to despite it being dead. He was my “ORIGINAL” sin. He was my first brick on the pathway to eternal damnation. YET, I cannot help but give in to the fact that there may be diversions along the way...but it is possible to find somebody who completes you in the first round of stepping in the ring. The bell clangs and you are pushed out of your closeted corner to face the “enemy”. The “enemy” here being the Ghost...the Ghost who unlike other spirits did not continue and move further away from me...it stuck along for the ride...and followed me around to my bed everyday...when I would wake up with a moistness in my palm, and goose pimples on my neck...as though He’d held my hand through the night and kissed my neck as I stirred awake. When I’m finally awake a whispered cry escapes my lips...a cry for him to cradle me against his sweet smelling chest and a cry to take me...Right here in the middle of my R.E.M.
The Ghost never once after my crass dismissal showed up again, not even to hear my apologies, but one day by the hand of “my new Goddess?”, he startled me awake one night, and his wispy voice breaking through the dimensions of bad reception, choked out the words I realized I’d been longing to hear only then, “I miss you to death.....”. The confession was followed by a very “pregnant pause” ..and then when I found my voice, groggy and confused from not having been used for so long(read three years)...”I miss you too...I’ve never stopped missing you...I can’t even being to tell you how much”......
The confessions were followed by a resolve....I know what I want...there isn’t much I have to lose...I will persevere...and I will make myself unavoidable..And irresistible...
The Ghost was driven away using a combination of Voodoo and other cauldron tricks I never knew I was aware of...those same tricks seem to be needed now...for the concoction of my Z....for eternity this time...
Goodnight Love
Yours in Deep Love
Choleric
Thursday, August 20, 2009
To Be or Not to Be...in Love...
Beloved Howard,
Much has NOT happened since I saw you last...in fact...the last time I saw you, was the last time truly felt i belonged to a lesser lifestyle....Well then, perhaps its best that I haven’t seen you in long...I often wonder what you get up to in your diseased, closeted and you “six-feet-from-the-edge” world...But then I get over it...”It doesn’t take much to distract immortality”...
It has, as you are well aware...always been a dream of mine to fall headfirst into L-for the way you kiss me-O-for the only conscious thought in my recessive brain-V-for the very elaborate scheme of things I have planned for you-E-for the extraordinary events that seem to cloud your life every time I’m around. You are perhaps also aware that the dream has always left me longing and aching...and more often than not highly disappointed. But that’s a price one pays for unconscious subcutaneous flesh grown after years of trial and ERROR. Error, just like any ordinary homebred owl, always leaves you reckless....not restless...eventually after all these years and years of errors I’ve been accustomed to it....yes reckless and thrilling for cheaper and cheaper avenues for self preservation and pleasuring. A small aspect of this wholesome existence is that the small aspects do not affect me anymore; neither do their causes and effects on lesser immortals. The world is a u much smaller place love. It has grown since you left but only in its physical existential dimension. It has shrunk down though in opportunities and love affairs for the soul, which no longer serve the humiliating purpose of chicken soup.
Do you remember love, when we created a world one day, we made love on sheets made of paper, and it ripped and cracked and crumpled and stained and smudged but we kept on until we both were about to deliver the world a beautiful orgasm, one never seen or heard of by virgins such as us. But you left me, hanging high and wet just before the climax and just before we had a chance to show the world how beautiful we were together.
That was the day I think I fell in love with you...the day you made me see heaven from a distance and almost let me touch it. The day we both made solemn vows to never lay eyes upon each other again, despite the several attempts thereafter. But do you remember how I came to you one of those days and told you that I had seen the face of an unknown Ghost, just then.
The Ghost is haunting my thoughts, with phantom promises of soul mate companionship...
Goodnight Love
Yours in Love again
Choleric
Much has NOT happened since I saw you last...in fact...the last time I saw you, was the last time truly felt i belonged to a lesser lifestyle....Well then, perhaps its best that I haven’t seen you in long...I often wonder what you get up to in your diseased, closeted and you “six-feet-from-the-edge” world...But then I get over it...”It doesn’t take much to distract immortality”...
It has, as you are well aware...always been a dream of mine to fall headfirst into L-for the way you kiss me-O-for the only conscious thought in my recessive brain-V-for the very elaborate scheme of things I have planned for you-E-for the extraordinary events that seem to cloud your life every time I’m around. You are perhaps also aware that the dream has always left me longing and aching...and more often than not highly disappointed. But that’s a price one pays for unconscious subcutaneous flesh grown after years of trial and ERROR. Error, just like any ordinary homebred owl, always leaves you reckless....not restless...eventually after all these years and years of errors I’ve been accustomed to it....yes reckless and thrilling for cheaper and cheaper avenues for self preservation and pleasuring. A small aspect of this wholesome existence is that the small aspects do not affect me anymore; neither do their causes and effects on lesser immortals. The world is a u much smaller place love. It has grown since you left but only in its physical existential dimension. It has shrunk down though in opportunities and love affairs for the soul, which no longer serve the humiliating purpose of chicken soup.
Do you remember love, when we created a world one day, we made love on sheets made of paper, and it ripped and cracked and crumpled and stained and smudged but we kept on until we both were about to deliver the world a beautiful orgasm, one never seen or heard of by virgins such as us. But you left me, hanging high and wet just before the climax and just before we had a chance to show the world how beautiful we were together.
That was the day I think I fell in love with you...the day you made me see heaven from a distance and almost let me touch it. The day we both made solemn vows to never lay eyes upon each other again, despite the several attempts thereafter. But do you remember how I came to you one of those days and told you that I had seen the face of an unknown Ghost, just then.
The Ghost is haunting my thoughts, with phantom promises of soul mate companionship...
Goodnight Love
Yours in Love again
Choleric
Friday, August 14, 2009
Asses to Asses....Bust to Bust...
Beloved Howard,
There are many things I have not been able to tell over the past few unending weeks....for that I must apologize...and I hope dearly that you would forgive me my trespasses...in time...as I forgave you yours...
Of course, just so you do not miss out on the several unbelievable happenings....there is much I have to tell you....let us begin as usual with the Princess and her pet Penis...they seem fine...more than fine...The Freudians seem better...Fine, actually...Just Fine...The Wicked Stepsister is futile and a waste...much to my comfort...The Shakes-His-Belly-Like-A-Bowlful-Of-Jelly guy is doing the exact same thing I was afraid he would do...there isn’t much else I think he can do. Now forgiving his trespasses, has of course become a habit of mine...and there isn’t much about his situation that bothers me anymore....
The very thread of sanctimonious rituals in my extraordinary life has now been covered in grime...due to its constant use around haemophilic people....you know ones with low sperm count...And by implication lesser-slash-smaller balls.....they do not feed much to the brain...besides straight guy garbage about sex and when they are asked to take a stand...they refuse-slash-chicken out....It was this dire need of a MAN in my life that made me dig up files and notes form my past....everything that I have saved as records of people I have loved....that have gather dust and grime of their own over time....only this grime is of dried cum...Loads of it, which was shot during hours of lovemaking...yes lovemaking not painless violation in the presence of another...It made me ache to my stomach and the longing for a man I had long left behind left me gasping for his voice...
This entire evening was deliberated upon by reading mails, chats, letters, scouting pictures, apologies, fights, and of course passion.....passion that you don’t just find again..not until a chance meeting with one...who probably doesn’t respond to your passion...despite you giving them your fucking virtue....damning yourself to the pits of hell...all to hear a couple of words...they do not have the courage to say....and yes it takes you back to the people who DID have the courage and were perhaps not as haemophiliac as the current conquests...
This old flame was my first...the one I have always reverted to back and forth as though a pendulum...and he responds every time with care and passion...one that now rests far far away in a land hitherto known as my own...I miss being his company....and I miss his stories...ones about magical kingdoms with Princes and Princesses and dragons and sorcerers....
Most of all, I miss the smell....
Goodnight Love
Choleric
There are many things I have not been able to tell over the past few unending weeks....for that I must apologize...and I hope dearly that you would forgive me my trespasses...in time...as I forgave you yours...
Of course, just so you do not miss out on the several unbelievable happenings....there is much I have to tell you....let us begin as usual with the Princess and her pet Penis...they seem fine...more than fine...The Freudians seem better...Fine, actually...Just Fine...The Wicked Stepsister is futile and a waste...much to my comfort...The Shakes-His-Belly-Like-A-Bowlful-Of-Jelly guy is doing the exact same thing I was afraid he would do...there isn’t much else I think he can do. Now forgiving his trespasses, has of course become a habit of mine...and there isn’t much about his situation that bothers me anymore....
The very thread of sanctimonious rituals in my extraordinary life has now been covered in grime...due to its constant use around haemophilic people....you know ones with low sperm count...And by implication lesser-slash-smaller balls.....they do not feed much to the brain...besides straight guy garbage about sex and when they are asked to take a stand...they refuse-slash-chicken out....It was this dire need of a MAN in my life that made me dig up files and notes form my past....everything that I have saved as records of people I have loved....that have gather dust and grime of their own over time....only this grime is of dried cum...Loads of it, which was shot during hours of lovemaking...yes lovemaking not painless violation in the presence of another...It made me ache to my stomach and the longing for a man I had long left behind left me gasping for his voice...
This entire evening was deliberated upon by reading mails, chats, letters, scouting pictures, apologies, fights, and of course passion.....passion that you don’t just find again..not until a chance meeting with one...who probably doesn’t respond to your passion...despite you giving them your fucking virtue....damning yourself to the pits of hell...all to hear a couple of words...they do not have the courage to say....and yes it takes you back to the people who DID have the courage and were perhaps not as haemophiliac as the current conquests...
This old flame was my first...the one I have always reverted to back and forth as though a pendulum...and he responds every time with care and passion...one that now rests far far away in a land hitherto known as my own...I miss being his company....and I miss his stories...ones about magical kingdoms with Princes and Princesses and dragons and sorcerers....
Most of all, I miss the smell....
Goodnight Love
Choleric
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