Nights of Madness and Fucking
nights of lunacy, when the
booze and the drugs flowed freely; when
getting high made perfect sense.
Gina by my side, naked and exhausted, I wanted to
write but couldn’t. would just chase pulls of rotgut
with puffs of rock and the world would momentarily make perfect sense.
for a single moment, I saw it all, I was the best philosopher of all time and
if only I could keep the state of mind alive for more than a second.
she’d blow a kiss on my lips, her fingers would tug at my cock; my
gaze remained glued on the nicotine-stained wall. my mind traveling
to distant universes, conversing with geniuses and morons existing
in some dimension where the laws of nature and of man
were mere suggestions.
her mouth would go around my dick, her tongue trying to lick it into action.
it was pointless; I was drifting along interdimensional clouds, seeing
things that were, that could have been, and that might be. everything mattered except
for the ever-elusive here and now. the moment was gone, her lips abandoned my
cock but her hand would squeeze my balls until I groaned and was
momentarily brought back to the reality I refused to call home.
I’d guzzle more bourbon, have another puff, and she’d sit on
my lap, her pussy lips against my dead prick. not even with her
sturdy tits on my face could I stop chasing the answers that
were hidden behind another veil of reality.
“come on, baby, stay with me,” she’d whisper in my ear while grinding
her cunt against my limp dick. her voice could barely reach my brain,
nothing but distant music penetrating the thick walls protecting my cosmic travels.
the walls of my flat had dissipated, the whole town had evaporated, I was
somewhere in between dimensions or worlds and her
pussy was still poking at my cock, her lips nibbling on my earlobe, desperate
attempts to keep me connected with what she perceived as reality.
I didn’t care; my hand mechanically would reach for the bottle, my mouth
would thirstily accept the swallow and my mind would feel it even if it
violated the laws of physics. sometimes, she’d even succeed at
causing just enough blood to migrate southward and make me
go inside her, but the tight embrace of her pussy could never
suffice to bring me back to the reality I would never acknowledge.
at some point, she’d give up; sometimes after she made me come,
sometimes when she realized the substances in my blood made
ejaculation impossible. to me, it didn’t matter; I was elsewhere.
chasing grand dragons through worlds with purple suns and mauve seas.
as my hand mechanically, automatically, kept on reaching for the bottle,
I’d pass out. naked, sweaty, my cock soaked in juices. I’d barely
notice. it was fucking alright.
when I’d come to, several hours later, she’d ask “are you okay?”
“I’m fine, yes. why?”
“don’t you remember last night? you spaced out for a long time.”
“it was a great trip,” I’d reply, bombarded by blurry memories of
my expedition to other universes and of her trying to keep me anchored
to one reality.
nothing ever mattered. one day, she disappeared. don’t know
what happened, where she is; I’ll never know and
somehow, that feels alright even if it isn’t.
Horror Sleaze Trash 