14.Jan.2002
when the day is through
--
and there ain't no fountain of youth
"Do you smoke after sex?"
"Sometimes."
The cycle of life moves in such a way that proving me to be a hypocrite is an exceptionally easy task. I keep making horribly gorgeous decisions in my life; I haven't changed my mind about leaving the House of Insanity, I've simply changed my mind on who I'm taking with me.
I ran into Jay Friday night. I was picking up a few items from the house as he battled aliens a la Area 51 on the big-screen television. He said, "I thought you were leaving."
I said, "Something always brings me back here. Such as this box of tampons."
I finally realized one of the many reasons Jay stops off at the house is to check up on me. I pounded the diatribe of "I know you care about me, but I know it's not enough" into his skull Thursday night. In his lovingly effervescent way, he flipped the tables on me and once again proved me wrong.
The overall response from everyone else came in the form of "I have never, in all the years I've known him, ever seen him care about someone the way he does you." I realized how fragile he truly is. I realized in some instances I have the upper hand. I realized I loved him.
Friday night, he broke and took me to bed. He pinned me down onto the divan with his mouth and I kept repeating, "I need a cigarette, I need a cigarette, I need a cigarette."
He said, "No, you don't."
I said, "Yes. Yes I do."
He leaned up and stared at me with electric eyes. "Do you think I'm going to let you leave now?"
He exhaled onto my face.
There are some who consider love as flaking out, and at this point in my life, I seriously don't care about those people. I keep my guard situated in case I have to fall back onto it again. My guard isn't raised for him, my guard is raised for Terry.
Terry's insanity is slowly driving everyone from the house. Terry drove Jay away Saturday night, and I have never necessarily wanted to take a knife to his throat the way I did Saturday night. Said Terry, "I'm sorry. I know how you feel about him."
You are a sorry son of a bitch. Your jealousy will be the death of you.
Before Jay disappeared, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his chest, an apologetic gesture of having to leave. I decided not to follow him. Sunday he appeared and took me as well as a few others to his place. We spent a good portion of the visit staring at each other. Had I not been coming down with this flu-like illness, I would have fucked him. He gives me a rather large element of control.
I spent the weekend watching dawn break out across his naked body the way I had when things weren't as powerful.
Like October when the clandestine curve of his thighs rested in his jeans as he slept, he. is. still. so. fucking. beautiful.
The rest is waiting for Terry to dig his own grave, which he's well on his way. His obsession for our friend Nicole is driving him to intense rage and jealousy, which ultimately pushes everyone away. The rest is still waiting. I am now just waiting for the noise.
--
time & machine