Lost without Her

She is my moral compass, my muse. She is my sparring partner, and my greatest love. I have held her in my arms more times than I've considered other women. And she has held me. She has held me for comfort and for warmth. But she has also held me when I needed it for salvation, and she has drawn a small river of tears from me that would never have escaped own there own. That, is the power of a good, strong woman. She is everything I am not. She is amazing and kind and straight-foward. She means everyword out of her mouth and the words find your ears by way of her heart worn her bare shoulder. It's a wound, and a shield. My words dont come close to describing every unique way in which she is wonderful. I love her. I want to choke her. I want to sex her. I want to give "Ms. Hoodle Poodle" a 30minute kiss. And Ms. Poodle doesnt even need to return the favor to "Mr. Pee-pee," because HE KNOWS she's good for it. She has been good for it; good for everything; for so long. That is, until she finally tired of me. And every good word I say about her is another reason I feel like I will never be good enough for her. That's not her fault though. She has shown me that she loves me. She loves every part of me. Even those parts of me that I HATE, that I would do ANYTHING to get rid of. She loves those. She kisses those places. She is the only person on this planet who has made me feel...beautiful. And trust me, I'm not. I'm an Ogre. When I look in the mirror, I see a hideous beast. And for some reason, she can lay me down in her bed, undress me, and make me feel, so sexy, so attractive. I cant tell you how she does it. It's a miracle. And as soon as the lights come back on, I suddenly realize, I'm still an Ogre! And I'm lying next to this angel I dont deserve in my mind. I want to cover up. I want to run away. I want to yell at her for pretending to love me. How can she put up with that? She did everything she could and I still wouldnt just let her love me. So no, it's not her fault she left me. Or let me leave her. But I can say this: NO ONE, has ever, or will ever, get that deep inside me. And I am safe without her. But I am also lost. So very lost.

fully committed to failing

That's right! I said it! I'm a failure. But I aint no ordinary failure! When I decide to do something, I do it all the way! I'm failing like I'm trying to win a medal. I'm failing like it's an olympic sport! I flushing my life away faster than I can wipe my ass with my future. This is an insane, absurd occupation. It's one I was born to do. I am the greatest failure in the history of failing. I can make my life as worthless as a used condom thumb-tacked to my ass. Not a condom I used, either. Cuz getting laid would be some small form of success. No, just a used condom I attempted to jerk-off in after failing to score with an ugly woman. But the condom aint sticky. Cuz even though I TRIED to masturbate, I failed at that too! I am a loser. I am THE loser. And I can lose better than any of you!

ZigZag - Purple Haze

Smoke floating upward between 3 people on a bed. No, its not dirty, stop thinking that (just illegal). Its amazing to me that in 2009, you can buy gallons of liquor on any corner, AND YET, pot is still illegal. The ONLY thing pot ever did to negatively effect me, was to make me lazy and gain 20pounds in a month. I actually got caught smoking pot last night, by my mother. I was on her back porch smoking out of a crude aluminum can pipe. Normally, I'd roll a joint like a civilized bi-ped, but this was to good stuff, real high-grade "mary jane". So rolling it in a J wouldve been wasteful. Also, the 4th of July was in 2days and I was trying to conserve.
So, I'm right in the middle of taking a massive toke, and like !lightening! my mother whips back the curtain on the porch door. And thru the glass panes, she saw me! Of course, I put the can down as quick as possible and took a drag off my cigarette. I pretended nothing was wrong and waved at her. She started to put the curtain back down, as if she were going to just let it go. But her denial just wasnt strong enough. SHE SAW IT. And she couldnt deny it. She jerked the door open and asked me, "What was that!? What were you doing with that can?!"
"Nothing," I said with a guilty smile. "Its nothing, really. I'm just doing an experiment."
Yeah, she didnt buy that. Not one word of it. She stomped towards the can as I backed up, steadying myself to run, if necessary. She snatched up the can and smelt it.
"Its pot!" I came clean. "Its just pot!"
"JUST pot!?" She hissed. "I'm getting tired of your shit, Nathan! You keep it up and you'll be out on the street!" She started to go back in, then turned around to elaborate. "And do NOT bring pot to my house anymore!" That was it. She was out of steam. She waddled back in the house and left me be. I stood there laughing, trying not to cry. I felt like I was 16 all over again. But, the really weird thing about what happened was my mothers tone of voice. She sounded mad, but also sounded like she was mailing-in the performance. I thought about it. And now I truly believe, she was relieved that I wasnt smoking crack. She still didnt talk to me the rest of the evening.
That was last night. Tonight I was smart enough to come over to a friends house to get stoned. The 3 of us are baked. We're all in our own little worlds. We've all taken a small vacation from our lives. This is the way to go. Crack couldnt be a good as this. Chillin out. Getting baked. With some good friends. To hell with crack. To hell with liquor, too. I'm sticked to pot. Just not on my mom's back porch.