Once In A Lifetime
we pushed each other to our limits
while we got high on everything we could get our hands on:
blow, junk, ice, rock, pot, PCP, acid, uppers and downers,
we took them all and created lethal mixes that for the longest
time expanded our souls, and strengthened our love.
it was during a PCP night we truly fell in love; when we knew
we were meant to be together, that that night at the bar we met
under the Purple Rain was the only time destiny worked in our favor.
crazy nights at the bar, driving poor Jim crazy with our fights and our kisses,
our drunken eruptions and inebriated reconciliations.
he always welcomed us back, often with a beer and a shot of bourbon on the house,
and we kept on returning, while we also roamed the streets,
haunting the dark alleys and the places no sane person would ever visit.
down by the port we’d smoke pot, looking at the stacks of containers
and large vessels that were traversing the world.
smoking crack and drinking tequila at the beach near my apartment,
dead of the night and we’d make love under the blue moon.
sitting on my blue foldout couch, chugging beer and hurling the bottles at the wall,
laughing at the colorful sharp waterfalls covering the floor.
we’d fuck all over the apartment, leaving no surface untouched.
we’d fight and scream at each other, especially when high on different
substances and the effects conflicted.
we’d lay in bed, shooting black-tar heroin and enjoying
our trips to flaming meadows; even though we were
in different universes, we could feel each other as
we chased monstrous dragons and fought nightmares.
we battled ferocious hangovers and excruciating crashes;
she’d go to work, I’d go to my language lessons and cut blow on the side.
we were suffering but knowing we had each other, knowing the night
would be wild, kept us alive and going. we pushed each other to the limits
but we also pushed each other forth; she’s the reason I kept on writing.
she brought the best in me, even if I was opium-laced; I still hope I
managed to do the same to her.
the fateful night she embarked on her long journey to other realms still
remains imprinted on my mind; I was nodding off when it
happened, but finding her lifeless next to me, her
head resting on my shoulder is the image that haunts
my rare sober moments. her smile remains
vivid in my memory, and no matter how many women I’ve met since,
none has ever come close to replacing her. how could they, after all?
my Emily was unique, no replacement shall ever be found.
I’ve looked everywhere; in nightclubs, in dive bars, in sleazy motels,
and in dirty strip joints. I’ve searched in workplaces and supermarkets
and the train and everywhere.
never before, never again. she’s gone, I’m drinking
her away for the fifth thousandth night in a row,
and tomorrow I’ll remember her all over again.
at least tonight, in the bourbon haze,
I once more feel her phantom hand reaching for mine.
encouraging me to move on, to keep on going; I refuse,
and perhaps she secretly rejoices.
Horror Sleaze Trash 