The freak I am..another entry for my journal baby.

I am so disheartened with people these days. I was born into the wrong time and place- wrong dimensions or fell into disenchantment from some different view . The technology that is bringing us together is also taking away our ability to be civil to one another! It gives people the feeling of the Gods and that can be a dangerous power to weld because it is not what they want to be or who they are in real life! Online truth is not a popular concept as it is too raw and open of a thing for most to accept! People too often assume others are lying because they themselves do not want to revel their dark secrets and peccadilloes! People and their online personas are so used to their shadow playing them on the stage called the computer screen! Man, talk about breaking the Fourth Wall ! Personally, I am so relieved and glad I do not feel the need to play that game, even if I need you more than you will ever know.

I did once, "belong" because I was TOLD to put on a show, hide this and that that made me different, TOO different to fit into their needs of normal and complacent. I stop belonging to elite rich folks clubs. I hated pretending to hate others that I found alive, interesting, decadent and doing their own thing! I would go and talk to the help at the "elite clubs" because I did not feel I could relate to the lies, deceit and racial, sexual and monetary things the family told me I HAD to say and feel around our "family friends." Those groups, I had to leave that awful soul eating dirtiness that it is and how it can mentally and emotionally kill and drain a person. Those people craved it, adore it like accolades from the priest, crave it like an addict craves a bindle, a dime bag! It's all fake and illusion by the best and brightest FX movie team.Nothing more. Do you hear me? WHY do you want it? I saw a deeper "meaning" of skies of pink and swirled with cotton candy clouds, wind in my hair and dilated pupils looking at a summer sky, tongue out trying to catch multi-colored raindrops. Tasting of the sea before time begin, deep fissions and fractals ! I NEEDED it.

Strangest thing in it all is that I became the teller of truth, too much I suppose for most people's comfort level. My good buddies told me not to take that road and I did anyway. They bade me not to do it as it would be used against me! They said, "People will use your unique individuality against you and if you do NOT conform to their norms, they will make excuses in their heads, even ones full of nonsense and ill will logic, for reasons that they are better than you and need to down you. K~, be with US. Don't share that sacredness as they do not care." They, they...they...tears

Damn, my friends were right! Why is there always a modicum of truth in THEY? I meet people online and they are usually normal... and I love all their perfections and flaws--HUMAN, and they show me openly. In the beginning, they are OK with who you are, as a person, a weirdo, lover, angry, funny. They are almost willing to show you their true face---almost! Some see that you are just another finding their way in the shadow and dust of the slow burn and slur of life's test. Than something happens and all changes. They seem to take on a false sense of self, they feel they are given some false idea of who they are or could be. CHOICES! I believe they feel something, an Undercurrent is reeling them in, having them choose. CHOOSE now or forever be what you despise or fear! This is when I sigh heavy and see THAT pattern start to creep in so insidious and scary--they work hard to fit in, to kowtow, to become one fractured piece of the puzzle that fits perfectly for others.

I am often left on the sidelines watching--the freak, HER, Persona non gratis. They think they must choose between things and that is one of the biggest lies yet to be broken! IT is fractured and I stay fractal, never giving into the "tease and stomp" of the group cadence! I might be broken but the pattern of broken is more in tune with humanistic thought than fixed in this instance! I sign and wonder why I want to stay comfortably numb!

I have watched some excellent and creative folks turn into hungry Net--"pyres" that become great non-people and lose that spark, their life force because they need that "fit in" hit. They walk to the need--and--want solder step using those--those they think they can be the nastiest to without the group coming down on them or joining into the really dysfunctional slam feast! They down others for the things they themselves do DAILY! It is a bizarre ritual to watch for sure! They become so fearful of making mistakes, being seen as an "outsider" and not following the step---left-left-left-right-left-- of said group. I could not make it. Failed in that.

In a way, it's rather frightening to watch them as if they are connected by vibrations and an urgency from the Queen Bee, her scent on the wind (or on the motherboard/ Inter webs) telling them to make sure she is protected and in doing so she will do for them, all others marked, shunned, excluded! It is like the ability to be "invisible" has given them a super power of their own, and you know how those work if you turn them on for self gain and hurting people! These are usually awesome people that are just falling victim like we all to the computer age!

My truth, you ask? It may not be what you want to hear. I do not march to the 9-5 work day that most do. I do not even have to work at all--ever! Hey, not so great if you only knew the price that is more than any money I could enjoy. The pay-off is great. So be it. I could no longer function with the hate , derision, needy wanna be's and trying to be "well and happy" in a world that does not have a place for ME. I can't be a target for someone needing to feel "cool and popular" anymore. It would never happen in real life...ever! Christ I have done the unspeakable and am capable of it I am sure to this day. That is another "truth" you may not want to believe. This is A truth I do not want to come to terms with!

I know now my time is better spent looking for the Gods and their songs, worldly pleasures of touch, smell, taste, in my friend's opium den. It's like I feel at home there! I sit and."... take my fingertips on a trip of [HIS] body, with nothin' other than my lips to guide me..."-- kinda like Steve Carlson sings of in I'll Remember You. It's who I am. It makes me crazy! Goma is better than the rude awakening of a blade in the back only to turn around and see YOU only did it for mindless self perpetuation or a " Hey, that be EPIC women, and you're the best" yelled out as an EPIC WIN to some one I don't even know........ while I bleed out with tears and life prana!

That pipe (and it is looking really good about now) and the curling smoke can make the ceiling disappear and the music makes all the sense that it never did. It can make tears turn spiritual and sex is of the realm of the Gods. Opium is a better and understanding companion than the most understanding buddy. It does not ask me to believe the group, even though it does lie a bit! It remembers me and gives me more remembrance of that awesome past just behind my minds eye and body memory (so good) that any discussion, talk or good cry can! I remember! I have to.

I have listened to all your truths but now, at this time and place, my truth can't be their truth of need and seek. I want for so little in this material world and in that, I am blessed. That may not be one truth you wanted to hear or believe. It still changes nothing. I can't be with you guys and I can't be what you need me to be ( what is that?) I know I do not need YOU to be ME but I need to BE just the same...just be (so high and in that haze of feeling) More truth I guess?

I have not been able to do that since I stopped with the debutante life, the exile by the people because I wanted the alter of a man (and got it) with the wine and sacrament of delicious surrender to a poppy plant that has taken me HOME since I was 9 years old! I do what I do for folks because I love to see that expression on their faces, not to be apart of a thing or group I do not even understand. I can't, again, hurt another to gain a number on a list or an admirer and it saddens me that we are willing to become "numbers" in some bizarre search for self through digital and electronic bits and bites! I fall back to yen-she, my lover /friend/ companion.


Skee can be a friend and it expects nothing! IT is sacred and given by the Gods and Goddess's. Not many of my friends are sacred in their deeds, not as a herald summoning me to a truer discussion than any human could give. I know who I am without proving my sickness to another's ego trip. The opium is always there and never judges how weird you are or what reference you make (become a joke) It takes you into a trance , a beauty so deep I can't imagine being without it anymore.

THAT IS JUST MY TRUTH. It makes the touch more electric and the breath more ecstatic, the sound and tactile more sensual. Damn, I can't even tell you how stretched out, one head laying on another stomach, hands threading through hair and fingers electric on skin, and so on , smiling faces and love radiating from everyone ...feels. A sweet aroma flooding the sense and memories hit you before you can draw on the pipe! Being in that cloud is not the worst place to be.

I know it is not what you might see as your truth but can you sit at deaths door and not want to see beauty if all others give you is their back because they have some warped idea of who you are? (cousin lover, weirdo, crazy, bitch ) I need to settle into oneness and alone in heart and mind, exclusionary bliss. That's just A truth and so be it. THIS might not be YOUR truth but it is mine---for now, an escape maybe you'll say, but it is just another road to walk...er...float on and write about.

It is another venture of the soul in a world of people I am saddened by, lost faith in and am too different from. It makes me neither better nor worse as you, reader, as you are neither better nor worse but just DIFFERENT from me. Can't we learn what it means to be different and at least celebrate it once in a while?
Until that time, I will sit in that den with that long pipe like I have since before I was a teen and lick my wounds that Western Society can't seem to find a cure for and the hide from the people that only smell the blood and go for the kill. I wait.....wait...

PS--I do not condone this style of life for most people but, having been in it since age 9 really (maybe earlier ) it is one of my mainstays and I see it as a spiritual way and means. It is also the way I learned and you may have a different route to take in your life so follow your heart and not anyone else's! This is to NO ONE particle but just ramblings of mine so do not take PERSONAL offense!

Saint Marks Junkie Journals ...OR--- Warning...If this had been an actual emergancy...

Oh God, and I thought I had the beast lurking just below my consciencesness under hold, lock and key, in a state of hypnagogic being -- that state between being asleep and just waking up where you will often jerk awake, falling into some mad understanding of where ,who and how you are..reality. Alas, I guess I was wrong , and FUCK that scares me. This is why:

I am on break from College until summer semester starts and waiting in an awful stressed out state of angsty buzzing undercurrents being held down by coffee, no sleep and bad midnight movie marathons for the "go ahead" from my rather racist African American professor. It is all so stressful, trying for the PC ass kissing crap, but trying for some downtime nonetheless. So, as usual, I go to get some coffee- a Triple Breve Cortado just for good measure and some much needed comfort.

We decided to forgo our regular spot and head over to the hippy eclectic hangout called St. Marks. I walked in and its quite the "colorful" deal. Paintings from local artist, tobacco hookahs, tattooed and pierced people everywhere and maybe one businessman on his new technological toy planner and his Armani suit talking to what sounded like a stock broker. People writing poetry, working Adobe art on their computers, playing some blusy guitar riff outside, a group playing GO in the back, etc. Ok this is cool , I think and I wonder where the Mochas and Vegan or Bran cherry muffins are?

I walked next to a shut door which was the unisex bathroom and waited in line for a friend to park the Vespa we had ridden to the shop on when....BAMMMMM.. it hit me. At first I thought to myself, "I know that scent. That smell is so familiar" (I thought the word scent, like I was smelling some fine man with a sexy Cologne on that I could not see yet but KNEW must be great) and than I said the words, " Chicago" in my mind and that went through my thoughts like a firebrand.

I could not quite put my finger on that smell but it reminded me of something warm, fuzzy, something comforting and familiar ..like home maybe ..like cookies baking on a cold snowy day when you are really hungry or an apple pie when your blood sugar is low from NOT eating any of Grandma's apple pie in ,well...forever!

I heard myself mutter, "where did they get good brown Chiva from in Denver" I said it as an after thought to what I was searching for and it came out before I realized I had thought it. Oh how complex the wiring of our fragile human brains really are! Its the Trickster God LOKI with a sick twist this remembering without REMEMBERING.

"Hum, Oh well" my mind offered up and I passed it off for a second.Oh the great gift of denial all we humans share. Tick..Tock..Tick..Tock..and BAMMM Part Duex--my mind hits speed of light thinking and reality slams me like a bull in a China store, "It's dope! Someone is cooking really good Mexican brown Heroin a few feet away behind the closed bathroom door in a little bent spoon or cooker cap!" (we used pop screw off lids with a few of the metal things bent outward to hold like a handle when it was over the flame) IT smells good and I am getting dizzy... afraid, too desperate and I feel torn and broken.THIS was suppose to be PAST, not NOW!

WHY? NO!! This can't be getting to me. It can't be happening. Not FAIR! I can even smell the flame lick against the bottom of the spoon, giving of a metallic smell with the dope, and my endorphins are firing like an after affect of some multiple orgasm. I'm rubbing my arm , pinching unknowingly at my used vein, ghost scars and a hauntingly empty prickling in my right arm where I used to fix long ago and biting my bottom lip until it is about to bleed (that's all I need now is to smell blood ALONG with that!) I stay stock still in line like a deer in the headlights, not really moving or even breathing-all senses on high alert and ready to rabbit it- and hear IT-Schhhhhniiick- a belt comes off in the bathroom and that whip and clank as it is taken off , the creaking of the leather tightening as it is wrapped around an arm as the unknown person ties off. I am shaking at this point but can't say a thing!

Sights, smells, and sounds, tactile and almost fresh as the illusions it brought flood my memory! I remember like a flash--I would often see male deamons and angels when really high. NO! AND THIS---NO! I CAN'T AGAIN. It took a jungle and a near death expereince half a world away the first time. NO!

I hear all this, as any other junky or recovering one would because it was RITUAL for us all for many times a day, for many years or decades for some. You become attuned, like a Big cat to prey at night, no moon, just instinct and senses and IN-tune to these sick telltale sounds, smells, , the NEED, because now I am really listening and using all my sense to replay it all.

I am in check..recall feelings and what could be on HIGH alert. Then the sound of the backs of fingers bring me around --slapping a vein in the arm.--thwack..thwack...thwack... and it sounds like a drum being beaten oh so L-O-U-D-L-Y and I am starting to get sick to my stomach as the smell seeps out of the bottom of the older wooden door and curls to my nose. Why does no one else smell it? I am panicked

I hiss under my breath and say to myself, "Stay calm damn it" Than think ,"It is almost over, Don't move" I was even almost sure I heard the liquid hit the cotton and get drawn up with a long shallow sucking noise of ssssssslllllllttt sound, and the long orgasmic sigh as the person dropped the belt as the RUSH and NOD hit, the metal buckle hitting the cheap tile floors with a telling sharp THUD and metal clunk, So loud in my ears and senses, which most people in line heard as nothing more than maybe someone's pants falling around the persons ankles because they were hurried, innocuous at best, if they heard it at all. Nothing but a normal sound to others but to me.................................

To me, they had missed the entire symphony that only I heard! I stood so still and quite, eyes wide and pupils dilated --- stomach about to retch. The door opened and a 20 something cute boy, still cute I should say, but with wear and tear from the smack, nonetheless, appeared with belt intact and wiping his wet hands on the worn denim pants. He stepped outside the door with a small sublet wobble in his step. So telling to some of us!

Even sober junkies can tell these things. His eyes were pinned and tiny and you could, well any other junkie could , see he was pretty high and I gritted my teeth as he could tell I knew and grinned a Cheshire-esque grin, all teeth and player like with a wink.

I watched him palm his crotch (ha-Oh yes! The post shot erection, serious wood that he had no intentions of hiding, and I was getting sicker, even desperate) as he walked over to the table, now carding his hand through his blond with blue streaked hair all falling in his eyes to cover his pinned pupils and sat down with a group of friends.

He fumbled at the chair a bit, the shot must have been an ear- ringer, and looked around before as he handed a case, rather like one you would put your glasses in, to a young girl with colorful tattoos and many piercings. Wait. I was thinking again in rapid staccato thoughts.. "Oh God NO! Stop! SHIT. They were sharing a kit and that was their works in the case" (needle, cotton, water, spoon or cooker lid, bleach if they were smart and usually some poppers.) The boy started to nod off and the tattooed girl got up and headed to the bathroom. I watched him nod and felt some pangs of jealousy.

WTF? JEALOUSY? It was becoming surreal and all had unfolded in only been a matter of minutes (or was it hours?)! My friend who was ahead of me in the line had ordered my drink as I guess he told me later, I had not answered so he ordered what he knew I liked and I said I mumbled, "We are out of here NOW!" Wow, it was like sensory overload and I truly thought I had it all under control. I still feel a little nausea sweeping over me but it will pass. We took off on Vespa as fast as the small cylinder engine would allow,drink dropped at the entrance like Old Scratch was after us himself!

I know now that even THAT monster I took care of almost 16 years ago still lives under the surface and can awaken even without my permission.In the famous words of the great Japanese Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto, "I fear all we have done is to awaken a sleeping giant and fill him with a terrible resolve" and I was hoping this misfortune I had stumbled across had not done just that! I will be more on guard with THE MONSTER from now on! The 12 steps say you have no control but I must! I will! I will endure! It is MY choice...now!

ITS 3:33 AND A STAR FEEL INTO MY HAND, THROUGH MY SOUL

My God, you can see the decadence of the everyone's aura, none pure, all wanting like little red hummingbirds feeding off the mouth of the vine of the soul flowers. My Goddess, so many of them-- I think, maybe, they are the stars that fell all over the Rocky's this night?

I am not even typing with my hands...Holy Goddess, the words are off the screen like they have become sentient beings as we all just discovered that time did not matter, unless it was 3:33. Clue-- key-- Open-- FOUND.

Reading ancient angelic script with "the plants." Yes, this is why they used it for...to "call" things (that you say don't exist) Call the Quarters, the Loa, the Moon.

The star fell through with thought like an unwritten law that stated it was the illusion that held me back and not the actual taste (of sweat and blood) that I smelled or sound (erotic and feral) that I saw.

THAT was real. It's Ok now to go on to the next TIME/Incarnation with NO fear but gonna live in this state for a while.

I have to stop because the words are dancing like a weird strand of DNA all coiled like a serpent, and wisdom. Whew. Ok, I'm going to discuss intonation with the Theta, Alpha and Beta waves and hope my body does not fly apart into a million trillion cosmic pieces of star dust. I am going to talk to the Fey' and share a dream with many.

TABOO OR FORETOLD? SHAMAN KNOWS! SHAMAN ALWAYS KNEW.

Taboo or foretold? Shaman Knows! Shaman always knew!This ME knew! Shaman KNEW this too.

I have come across a rather "unique" situation and damn...it is hard to pass this one up. It may compromise my personal laws and moras to an extent but it is not a chance people come across often. As many of you know I have lead a rather weird and eclectic life and have run from my now conservative, racist ( they said,"Obama would have the blacks act up so you better not vote for him") Southern, W.A.S.P ,(you will have to look that up) Christian, Chapel building to memorialize the dead, Country Club/University Club belonging family.

I love them , don't get me wrong. We all love our families---faults and all, or should for the most part (awful circumstances not withstanding) I love them but need to finish what THEY started LONG ago with younger me running around naked, or near that state at least as was the norm for where I was uprooted to, in a jungle atmosphere with the kids from this or that tribe and experiencing what THEY did, partaking in hallucinogenic ceremonies that would have had me snatched away from them quickly by the government in any Western civilization and given to a better home (there was no better home--they were the best)

I need to finish this remembering and dreaming. I need to remember the blanket tosses while the rhythmic drums of the Inuit's pounded out a hypnotic trance state as they chewed on sinew and played in mukluks and a parka in the snow , eating ice and seal fat like a snow cone. I need to go back to the roots, the actual VINES and "flesh of the Gods" mushrooms, the Yopo ceremonies and Fly Agaric that took me above my own Doppelganger to watch my previous life.

The shaman told me at one point I could not join in at first (I could not play their reindeer games) I was different, and I might fall into a state we call, not the Shaman however, Twoofing. They knew it as a much older possession or way of the spirit. Shaman knew! I only knew my cousin/lover/best friends watched in intrigue--The Shaman knew he played a larger role in my destiny/Sanguinarian-sexual awakening than the wrold ever would. Not afraid of my "awakening beast" because he has his own and had seen the tribes and many other tribes Ghost, Fairies, beast and mythos along with me.

Shaman finally let me into the inner rituals after great debate and asking of Gods and spirits and said I would return, albeit down the line, AFTER I had come to learn those certain sacred and wise ways that were needed. (HE knew) I need AGAIN the spirit peoples talking Godplants to take me to that OTHER world where I first met that ME that I was only allowed a glimpse of because I was to young, naive and new to the ways of the people or even that special forgotten way of being, turned into lore and fear by many cultures.

It would bring to life, way too fast, certain areas of existence Shaman matter of factly stated as an exsistance I was not yet ready to exist in nor was I entitled to, yet with no real answer of yes or no...just a smile and nod of , "Yes, maybe" and things to come (Ha too late--the saga of blood is thicker than water and so is sexual awakening as it had already began its part in the timeline) It was set in motion.

I am hoping my cousin that went on the travels with me all those years ago growing up (it was Micha, his younger brother Jovi and me) still can feel, smell, remember that sacred time. Older brother/cousin/lover to be had figured out my secret before even I had on the jungles edge one day when he pricked his hand on a large wooden splinter from a dead tree. The blood flowed and *IT* began. The proclivities we have that stay with us--did it stay with him? The need? The curiosity? THE FORBIDDEN. The unafraid teen more enthralled in the secrets than the consequences!?

Taboo...says Western society, but we were worlds away from that reality. We KNEW ritual like old hat and it knew us.WE were the ritual, blood,lover, brother, cousin, soul mate, tribe member and all at once.Younger cousin of my helper, to my awakening, his BROTHER, looked on with a KNOWING, a jealous lovers knowing, and that of an old soul that rediscovered its morning cappuccino but could never drink it for fear of the burn, the GOOD burn! HE remembered! Shaman told him he had a part to play in unfolding events with a nod and a pat on the shoulder and watched the strange toe- headed lost children so out of place yet right where the fates wanted them, awakening to many different, erotic and ancient ways in HIS and the jaguar spirits jungle.

Shaman watched an eye of a learned and kindly elder serpent GOD and without the judging eye of the Western ways people wince they, the strange trio, had come from. Shaman KNEW the blood would flow before the story was over and the keening hitched breaths and bit back barely audible moans, words spoken in THEIR tongue, ancient and magic, whilst exploring touches, butterfly touches like gossamer across goose bumped skin that started to accompany each "accidental" nick and cut which, for the older boy, would become a need fulfilled down the line by the "jealous" watcher from the behind the Banyan tree. His tears left behind the only trace he had been alone at all in his longing, un tasted NEED. But,Shaman saw. Shaman KNEW!

The "Human beings" as they call themselves,as most indigenous peoples there did, see it, this sexual awakening, as The Pleasure Principle and teach it as thus.It bound more by blood of the soul mates and essential to knowing a soul,even cousins if it be foretold. Wrong or right we became inseparable, adding in a third and loving missing link that had to wait for its time in this piece, the magnum opus (we knew when he spoke our secret "Language" and his eyes understood) and we 3 hid NOTHING from the HUMAN BEINGS kindly eyes, non-judgmental in speech and looks.

We were of one body some of the elders would say. Empathy times three. Each of us reacting and feeling for the other two ,FEELING so deeply as if we were one being split apart for the needs that drove us--- one for blood, one for sex and one tears, each one directing and teaching the others in the "specialty" they had acquired. Awakening to fingers twirled and entwined in Papaya and Yucca smelling hair or an ear upon a heart, not knowing where one begin and the others ended.

Only innocence was seen by the HUMAN BEINGS. nothing wicked or unnatural! A beautiful seedling growing from a rare jungle mutated vine that would, however, bring about an unfolding sadness. Shaman knew *IT* was not meant to be in OUR world, the dead world, Shaman said. No one ever judged HERE, using the words and curses of the Mono-Gods Dogma , the pointed fingers of fear and accusation of the world we had to return to soon. Shaman didn't have the heart to break ours.

So young we were. Teens, yet childlike and naive in what we saw as our RIGHT and innocence in the world. We left a part of us all in that jungle of emotions and foretold events! I can still awaken some times and still smell the morning jungle dew mixed with their scent, but quickly it fades! Faded memories snatched away from me by light pushing in through city smog, giving it an unnatural look,chasing away the allure and pull of my old home. I need to know because SHAMAN KNEW . He KNEW!

So, now I have to go back now to the SKIN WALKERS, the Otherkin, the Shape shifters , the Loup Garou of the tainted world and impure ways these have come about with technology and myths. Coming back and possibly giving up on my schooling and studies, even my Internship for now. I had excepted to take this path. It is filled with rituals and learning beyond any college or professor.

The teachers are the plants and the spirits, the changing energy and what YOU and many ,even part of me, has forgotten walking in our technological world with shoes on pavement and steel, no connection to the Powers, the Gods and Goddesses', things the Western World calls Myths and Legends, not real.I think I have to go back and learn this way. I will go after the end of this month to see if this is MY path for the summer, or longer. Something is in the air. Something of an NEW awakening .Static charge.(A bit back moan escaping, remembering?) A change, a need to know. Secrets forgotten and pieces remembered.

NEED is a wonton creature born of things we dare not speak of. Need is change for some and it must be now for me. SHAMAN KNEW and STILL KNOWS! Now I must know and REMEMBER.

I LEARNED TODAY...(and memories of the Time of the Three/3)...

....that people are not human.. WE are more human than YOU will ever aspire to be... I learned that I can smell the blood dripping down my lip , walking at night by the holiday lights and the cedar scent (of that mountain top I found far back in time in my locked memory) from the smoking urban metal and angle hair chimney's... The full moon shining on half the face of a quite watcher from a broken window, a lit clove cigarette blowing with the leaves by my foot as I stomp it out with my toe, looking up , whisper in the wind says, "taste the cloves on his lips? Feel the energy when you grabbed the Tesla coil?... Violet wand; now eaten energy, shattered bulb you greedy bitch....hungry still ? Steal the kiss. Buy them! " Wait, I am walking .Pay attention. You can't pull from both dimensions and memories at once!

I learned that... I hate you for what you represent and what you think YOU are. My lip still bleeding, I drink it down, making it bleed as much as I can in the frozen air with my teeth as I glance at two lovers through a bay window exchanging that , exchanging emotions I refuse to feel, but for cash , MY money to you --and leave your male senses at the door and go out in that sea of darkness. You are needed for nothing but skin, sweat, magic and lust. Maybe for energy, and the hunt, if need be. I know what sex and chocolate , blood and pain are for! I snap back to the cold and my New Rocks crunching alone and silent on the ice, my carbon steel blade rest like a sleeping snake in my hand, it knows me like Death know the dead, open always out of habit and ..the hunt..have you forgotten?

I learned today ... that you are social conformity and fuck you for your judgments...I am almost home .. I see the high rise and my red lit candle, sex magic, in the window ahead. Feelings hit my chest like a Mossberg sending me off to your Boat (can you loan me a coin to pay the ferry man?) I can't breath and choke back tears and memory with a sound like a wounded wolf in the high Rockies howling for its lost mate. I chock it back because I am an Urban dweller now. Damn YOU for that. I feel a chill YOU would never understand or comprehend. Falling against the Evergreen tree, World tree-- please make me feel anything, something, I close my eyes and feel the rough bark of the tree scratch my back as I slide down , ripping my shirt and the blood trickles and pools in the cotton of my Sex Pot Revenge shirt, along my back and down my leg, COMFORT--PAIN.. same difference...finally letting the tears come and I remember,

I remember. Eyes closed and I can still see the clearing of Banyan tress where we watched the ceremony of the Yanamamo , hot muggy jungle night where not many white kids had been and we knew not of YOUR ways but of the PEOPLES ways, too young to know your sting would be a death blow. We touched , explored, learned and traveled with the Vine of the Soul and saw what we knew it was to be in the blood we shared that night, Sacrament. It was sacrosanct, UNPROFANE ... and the brothers found they knew each other so very long ago and loved.

We were love, lovers, made love as one, Shaman told us all three/3, WE: spirit, mind, emotion in one body and we smiled and took the fruit and saw the Gods, so young we were, destiny...we were innocence and hope ...and shame. I remember the loneliness when we came back to YOU and YOU pointed and told us we were sinners and evil; sent us each to different part of the earth, shattered and numb with regret and HATE FOR YOUR WAYS, Civilization YOU called it...

I learned today ...that YOU are a poser and a fraud and YOU all think your solidarity in jokes and mentality of cruel intentions is a boon on your side, a scope in popularity you so crave like junkies for a fix (but the dope man is out of that particular drug my friend) ...and I feel the cold again and stand up, the pain is pleasure and I tighten the straps on my Prada messenger bag just a bit more to FEEL and walk a but further , licking the salty tears like the last supper and wonder why I always take myself back to that!

THAT memory ,that smell, taste...comes to me. Come TO me! I remember later ...the Cicero days of Chy-town and taking pleasure in breaking YOUR bones for the payments forgotten, you running, we laughing at the fear we smell, crave, get off on (you weaklings ) from you.. the hunt again. Knife curved blade still open but just small cuts to teach lessons YOU should have known (and I want to lap at the wounds like a starving creature), Sweat and blood mixing in my hand, between my fingers just the way I like it. I stare and drink it all in, and try to bring back the memories your kind took from MY kind! I can smell the car, gasoline and cotton rags and the smell of burning tires.

Running... I felt nothing as the flames licked at metal and rubber, the hood blows off and the ground shakes a bit and desire to be like YOU again as I am lost fasr from the THREE and the people we loved, just drink what you need in Absinthe and blood...and watch it all fall down. I can no longer sit as silence and eyes of fire are never heard ...and must be.

I can't even really feel the needle as you search for a vein... The belt cuts a bit into my arm as the leather quick zips through the metal holder, cricks and stretchs, and the leather smells of you , so many bite marks on that old belt, and I think, "FINALLY RELEASE???" ...and now I am back and can see again . Memories shaking , sliding away, but the payment I make is higher than yours. It is taboo and costly to mark my soul. Fuck you and your normality of self. Go pay Papa Ghede and Damballah at the making place.

I learned today ...that YOU can never be like me and I don't ever want to be like you with your false faces and empty wallets, your hymns to a dead God of war and his bastard son. I found MY God long before I was born and after that in a jungle in Venezuela , in a frozen tundra and on a mountain in the Sierra Madras in Mexico, in a Kiva with the Dene' and on a veve, making love AS a GOD with a god. I need nothing of your pity or your belief. Your thoughts are even lies to evoke a need to some identity you thought was YOU, your kind! Phantasms!

I learned today ...I should have kept the Vine of the Soul of my beloved Yanomamo and Hedu fallen from the sky, the Mushrooms of the Huichol, the Virarika, the HEALERS, the barking of the Inuit sled dogs as we slept by the fire on the nanurark , **THAT** clearing of Banyan tress, the mingled limbs in the hammock as we curled up with Shaman watching and his smile and stories of our PAST and of what was to be, the art of the Huichol and the Gods of the Weather, Sun, Corn, Earth

...so high I could see and touch the stars in the sacredness of the Marakames chant , their stories and love... acceptance in its purest form like every smack addict that OD'ed at once... all so pure, their sex , their scent, remains and reminds (it's so cold and I'm almost home, if I must call it that) They never knew sex , making love like the gods. They knew instinct..nothing more. YOU. Magic..totem..daemon.., thoughts you saw, words you tasted. Not YOU but WE!

WE left you behind and drank the elixir of the god as you prayed for us. We opened our hearts, our soul(s) and veins. GOD it was good!

.........................REMEMBER dear..cousins, lovers, friends, soul mates, three in one and 15 years of death and pain with YOU and your rules and technocratic shit, Your looks and lies...I told them 15 years 15 years ago a week from today. If words without meaning still ruled when time came round than I would "come home." needle or rope...cards have been played!..................

Am I coming home? I am coming home! My tears are drying as I walk up the stairs , theWallsCrowdMe, Suffocating --- white and smelling of nothing but Urban decadence that is not even decadent in its truest form.. HA...so wait..I am coming soon. I don't need YOUR permission.

I made my vows and peace and I will keep the silence.I learned...forgiveness. What did you learn...Eophan, Mundane..Human?

.....Kia...memories from a childhood