“The Hooch” -An Exercpt

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“I need a drink”, he thought as he backed out of his driveway.

Tired of facing the harsh realities of what is stitching his life together, Sebastian often found himself turning to the healing powers of The Hooch to soothe, a manifested bridge over the troubled waters that surrounded him.

The Hooch has never lied nor expected anything from him. The Hooch has never taken anything from him. The Hooch just is what it is.

His love for The Hooch started as a simple puppy love. A warm bubble bath that caressed his sore muscles back to a manageable state of indifference. It was a kiss on the forehead after a bedtime story from the parental figure he had always imagined. The honeymoon phase of a burgeoning relationship.

Sebastian had never had a relationship go steady for more than a few months at a time. Once the sugar started to spoil and maggots formed, he’d always thrown it out, expecting to be able to find a replacement sweetener with ease.

But sugar is hard to find these days and aspartame doesn’t do the trick. There’s an aftertaste that follows the sweetness that he never cared for.

The Hooch is always there.

After time, he started finding larvae within The Hooch but couldn’t bring himself to throw it out. The Hooch has seen the best and worst of him and has never turned its back. Still, he found it difficult to ignore the bugs that were beginning to sprout.

The bubble baths became pools of blood. The kisses on the forehead felt like they came from Vito Genovese instead of a loving parent. The familiar love morphed into an authority figure from a super power he no longer recognized.

But The Hooch had never lied to him before and Sebastian had no real reason to believe it would start now.

The Hooch just is what it is.

“Fuck it,” Sebastian thought as he drove down the usual stretch of road to a destination he’d gone to many a time before.

Let The Hooch be the lighter fluid to ignite all the bridges left in ruin from years of neglect. Let The Hooch lift him upwards towards a new plain of transcendence that he never thought imaginable in his default state. Let The Hooch warm the cold parts in his body and reinvigorate the parts of him he had long forgotten existed.

The Hooch just is what it is.

He approached the cash register and realized he was 75 cents short.

So he bought a bottle of soda instead.

Climb Abored

an anchor, 7 stories high & twice the tons

passengers without tickets shuffle up the stairs uninvited

i’ve got many guns. time to play Russian Roulette

oh you think i don’t? then what’s this?

.       .       .

everyone’s quiet now.

BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM

shooting blanks. everyone’s delighted.

most of them clapping their hands, enjoying the spectacle, gay as can be

it’s all a circus

& then a man as tall as a hundred year old tree

walks up to me

& says: “perhaps you should relax. you gave me and some others quite a fright”

poor fools. they don’t even know the caliber of plight afoot

i toss the the useless weapons overboard. they clang against a wooden platform down below & are picked up by a group of rowdy teenagers, whom hoot & holler and run off into an alley with their new toys

we’re still at shore.

i sigh a heavy sigh. i wasn’t looking for death, just something more

for i know…

i find my cabin lodgings easily, at the very top of the ship

leaving the other passengers to do as they please

folding my hoodie into the drawer, kicking my shoes off under the bed

accepting the via blasé of what’s to come

for i know…

an anchor, 7 stories high & twice the tons

we aren’t going anywhere
not anymore

The Performer

Hi, nice to see you. I’m doing quite well thanks for asking. And yourself? Well that is simply fascinating, you should save that story for dinner parties! ‘Kay I’m gonna go now bye. Be sure to tip the bartender for me.

one facade to the next, not even thinking to rest

Thank you so much for calling this hotline of underpaid workers to help you with something or whatever, this is The Performer, how can I help you? Shove these papers up my ass, you say? Well, it wasn’t really in job description but hell, half the crap I do around here isn’t in there either, so why not? Clocking out, see ya tomorrow.

The cell phone lights up.

Before another fresh coat of paint is plastered by an invisible makeup team on to match the appropriate human emotion expected in whatever situation The Performer finds themselves in

there’s a notion of despair
about how many layers can be caked on
before the foundation implodes?

Yes, I love you too.

and what face would be underneath?

maybe something to closer thine higher self

Oh save me Buddha !
Jesus!
Krishna!
Leviathan!

*phone static*

a choir sings from above:

**”Come to me

Ravish me

I’ll liberate your mind”

Hmm…

Oh Great Whatever you are, how much more proof do I need to show before you believe I’m ready?

In this human kind, this condition, the mind can handle so many questions at once
to find a tailormade suit that fits only them

caught in the limbo

with a daunting glance, The Performer has no chance
to ponder about what could possibly free them from

Another coat, another color

The clock moves on, matter of fact

so on to the next Act





**reworded song lyrics from “Anna Stesia” by Prince

Nevermore

if I don’t think about the fact that I’m in solitary
pretend to not see hellfire in the skies
ignore the accusations of heresy

Nevermore

to say otherwise would be blasphemy
‘cuz this is the best day of my life

if i ignore that i feel half as free as before

flipping through several volumes of dictionaries in desperation
to find a way to define the deep down dark icky leaking & splashing about inside
blurring the world upsidedown, spinning the wrong way ’round
feels like a bad case indigestion at the very least.

Nevermore

for i declare

THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE

Behind the 4th Wall: The Psych’o’Desk requests assistance

some of you may know me personally, most of you know me through my posts on here and on Soundcloud and that never ceases to amaze me. I don’t often to do posts like this and I’ve been holding off on creating one for as long as I possibly can but can no longer.

A little background. Due to various mental & physical disabilities, I am completely unable to sustain a “normal” job.

No, it’s not laziness or apathy (ok maybe a hint of apathy but nonetheless), I can not work a traditional job.

Literally every time I leave the house I run the risk of having a debilitating seizure wherever I am, no matter what I’m doing. And thanks to doctors & their infinite wisdom, I’m no closer to figuring out what causes them than I did when I had my first seizure in the fourth grade.

It’s been making my life hell. I even had a pretty bad one earlier this week but refused to go to the hospital b/c I knew it’d only result in a hospital bill I can’t afford.

I’m starting college classes again at the end of August & since I’ll (hopefully) have all of my financial aid paperwork processed in time, it should be smooth sailing.

Except the refund for THAT, won’t hit my bank account the middle of September.

So here we are at the end of June and I have a grand total of ~$50 until the middle of September. I have medications to pay for. I have to eat. Everything you can think of that makes life possible, I need.

which is the hard part of this post.

I wouldn’t be asking for donations unless it was an absolute necessary.
here is the link to my paypal:

fastidiouslyme PayPal

I ask you now
if you are able to donate, even if it’s just one dollar, please share what you can. share the link. spread the word.

I want to do something special for anyone who donates (perhaps a poem or a song, specifically for those who have helped out.)

And if you can’t donate monetarily, please feel free to check out my other hundreds of posts on this site. seeing views on my posts does a lot for my self-esteem and helps in its own way.

Thank you very much.

When The Music Stops

when the music stops…
last note from the last song fades into the background
the album’s spin is through…

that’s when you hear the sound
of an echo turning blue

then you feel the freeze
colder than the arctic

silence

a lead-footed frost nips at your ears
’cause there’s no sound
to muffle the splashing of your tears