TheBanyanTree: Vices

[maria gibson]

I remember the sound of my slippers against the pavement, rough, echoing in
the night as I walked to the computer room, my heart and head full of pain.
It became a meeting, a gathering, this old plastic surrounded by matted
usedtobepink fake fur given to me on a mother's day eons ago, shuffling
on concrete and bouncing off the fog and dreary night air.  lonely.  alone.
me.  just a moment ago.

God, why are some so fucking cruel to others?  Why does it happen just when
others have let the guard down so some could come in and hack the heart away
in tiny fucking tidy pieces?  What is wrong with me?

I really don't give a shit what some think as they see the sweats clad chick
shuffling around the complex.  They are just as likely to catch me smoking
by the pool and wondering what the fuck this is all about.  I can see why
addictions get started.  I had a food addiction, I think I may have had a
short sex addiction and as I down two shots of tequlia to calm a throbbing
shock to mind, body and soul, I know how these things get started.  Perhaps
not innocently.  Perhaps not mindlessly and with some certainty
deliberately, efforts to drown the noises and ease the pain become sirens to
the masses who art filled with agony.  lonely.  alone.  me.  just a moment
ago.

Come and take me, you sweet dream of sleep and mindlessness, take me unto
thy arms and cradle me as I need cradling.  Feed me as I need nourishment,
quake my thirst with thy sweet and satisfying necter.  Will you be food in
great heaping gobs, an endless orgy of great amounts or will you be the hot
necter sliding down my throat in ever easier ounces?  Amber or clear, bubbly
or hot?  Will you be the willfull wantonness of desire, a deep aching need
to be reached from the core and taken to heights turned to depths, last name
not necessary?  This is me.  lonely. alone. now.

Maria