Cancer and How I Just Want To Use

Home life shattered as Mom has been given not much time with her cancer diagnosis . I am clean and I want to run to Philly's nearest bath house and drown my sorrows with a gram of T and someone who will sleep with me or in reality wants to get high. My soul is dark with rage and seething with the desire to use and degrade myself. I know my using will not stop the onset of dementia and the forgetting the name of her children and husband. I know that all and I don't care because that first hit off that stem and I soar above the sky and look down upon Candyland ;and ,the high gone and I am in a cubicle on a rubber mattress with threadbare sheets and something that is suppose to be a pillow. I know I will look in the mirror at the beaten face with my hair pushed back and eyes of onyx that just reflect the observer into this small room called hell.

I have been talking with my Mother and really trying to get her forgiveness for those times of coke frenzied rages that I unleashed on her and my Sister all because of a Son's desire to be loved by someone other than those dark figures in peep shows or bath house hallways. I remember waiting for me in Wisconsin after I ran away with some kid I met in Madison who knew someone who could get us out to California via Chicago and some big ass DJ in that city at the time. I had the police put me on a train back to Milwaukee and My Father and Mother picked me up at the station with Michael from the Milwaukee Youth Group and they where told I was pretty lucky because I was just an hour or so from being sent to Los Angeles with a one way ticket and about 300 in cash. Her eyes where red with hours of tears and my Father just had sweat across his brow and they informed Michael he would no longer be seeing   me again. I really wanted to live in Milwaukee but someone again watches over me my favorite dance bar Club 219 ended up very unfortunately in the world news as this was Jeffery Dhamer's food source but I must say I really wasn't his flavor. The tears she would of shed for her gay some turning into some piece of meat spinning on some spit over a roasting flame.


My talks with her are simple and poignant and it chokes me up as I see her slowly being eaten up by the disease . I would love to go to the BikeStop in Philly and sit with people I have written out of my life for no reason except insecurity. I would love to do those shots of Kamikaze and feel the hint of lime shroud the pain and the vodka dull the inevitable. I would leave and walk down the darken Quince Street and make my way to some club to cop if I haven't already and look for the beautiful and tantalizing Tina the gay mans fantasy friend who waits for her moment. I leave and head for the baths or someone who I may have picked up. It is all the same. I'm alone at a time when I should be in the rooms but the rooms don't give me the love I really want and that is from a man who will be strong when I put my head on his shoulder and break down at the inevitable.

WHAT HAS MY MOTHER DONE TO YOU AND WHY TAKE HER FROM HER GRANDDAUGHTER  AND HAVE HER MISS ALL THAT LIES AHEAD. I AM IN SUCH A FUCKING RAGE I WANT ANSWERS FROM SOMEWHERE ON WHY THIS WOMAN HAS TO BE IN SUCH PAIN AT THE LOSS OF HER LIFE AND THE SPECTER OF DEMENTIA IS WAITING LIKE A HAWK ABOUT TO SWOOP DOWN UPON HIS PREY WITHOUT WARNING IN ITS SILENT ATTACK THAT WILL RAVAGE THIS BEAUTIFUL WOMAN.

REALITY SUCKS AS IT REARS ITS HEAD TO SPIT ITS VENOM OR SING ITS PRAISES. i JUST WANT SOMEONE THAT WILL GIVE ME THEIR HAND TO HOLD AS I SAY GOODBYE.