edward_h

I love the rain, there is a certain moment I loved, when Its slightly cool , dark , lit by neon signs , and rainy. I walk down to Mill Ave from Farmer St. by way of alley. The side-walk was loose brick and I'm feeling that thirst I always have trouble filling , seemingly my whole life I've felt this, I have no explanation. Someone I've never met, I felt, I pause , turned and opened the door to an empty brass-rail. There was a shaker , a mixologist not the usual brand. The sides of her head were shaved , brunette ,pale , tank-top, faint scars , and tattoo on her neck I couldn't make out , She had green eyes but the look was more than lost it was penetrating on so many levels, I could feel my body heat. This wasn't just an attraction it was to become my new addiction. For me the first beat of my heart towards her, was like cutting my throat, feeling warm from the blood flowing down my neck, and cold while I die, all at once. I wonder if she felt so deeply, does she know. We now have been locked in a gaze for seconds, and my eyes tell all not by choice, I fear the echo of this moment, dangerous, like a junky that fears withdrawal right before they get high , I'm the sort that draws strength from a shared loved and falls to pieces and self -destructs over a divided one, this green eyed wonder could dust me and bring the Dragon to my front door to consume me once again. "How one pain can ease another" i thought to myself. We shared some words...........this memory is like a fading dream and I remember saying " single, lonely and content or hand and hand , whole and complex " she agreed . Before I went , I placed the money for my drink in her hand , we touched , it was clear , she knew. The walk home was cold , the cool breeze blew straight through my jacket, bodily tissues, chilling my heart. The thoughts of her are warming and haunting , I could feel her in the shadows of my soul, her voice , her presents, an energy that lingers. Her name was Lane. I've been offset my whole life. The relationships I carried on were always broken, I felt like they were parts I was playing, instead of a love which was naturally shared, pure and imperfect, grown appreciation , the feeling of togetherness that would fight and protect against the rest. All the deception and hate in this world, why those who dare to love us the most are the ones who truly deceive us. I dreamed of understanding , I dreamed of being wanted, needed, desired. since I was a boy I dreamed of love , now 26 , I only knew pieces , I have never desired lust, I feel the human condition strives for lust like a drug , only relieving small parts of the hearts desire temporarily and poisoning parts of the soul permanently causing deep scarring which plague me to this day . I hoped for lane, if not her than the idea of her , I would visit this brass-rail more than a few times. We related to each other in the way magic puts a picture-less puzzle together , she even knew all the quirky things I enjoyed because she seemed to have followed the same path. I was playing a part to hide myself. I could tell this was a woman of torment, pain and desire. as I was, but I didn't want her to see me without my mask. The scars she bear weren't ones of loves victory but those of hates strafe, deception. If I took her hand would she be waiting, counting the seconds till she let go or dreading the moment we would part. She had asked me to walk her home . It took about twenty minutes , it seemed like seconds , we didn't hold hands but we laughed. It turned out she lived just across the way as I said goodbye she grew closer , an unexpected move towards me, rapidly, her lips touched mine and than the unexpected, the coldest kiss I had ever known , it almost felt like she was drawing my life force to warm hers, like her heart was the best kept secret. Beating with passion for me but in a cage of regret , I knew right away this was a Gun-Street girl. I was the wolf taken by the lam , seduced for the feeding of her soul , like a vampire feeds but yet I would still be drawn to her, my scars love sorrow , my heart desired pain , If she knew I could take her way from it all , like so many parts I'd played this would turn out to be the one that broke my hearts last piece. I heard a man once say" losing all hope is freedom" that may be true but its also the coldest spot you'll ever stand on. lane , the Gun-Street girl , broke my last piece , a vampire drinks its victim , she would consume me just the same, knowing that there could be love but like the junky looking for a fix, she enjoyed scarring me, it was her high. I won't give up on finding the love I want as long as there is a breath in my lungs and a beat of my heart. I have been alone for the last three years while the dragon is nipping at my soul and on occasion consuming it, I'm now 28 I have pieces that needing mending, or will I bleed myself out letting the dragon consume me, and a cold goodbye would that be. Its easier to take the path of lust but not as for-filling and won't bring me memories of unborn children . Hold the hands of those you walk with, protect them from sorrow, and stand up for them when their voice does not carry and carry them over the painful patches of life. I shall seek , I shall find. I shall protect with every drop of blood and fight for what I truly believe in, Love.

This is part like in every story when we take a few steps back to get some perception , the year 2001 . I was 19 the date was october 24, my birthday. At the time I was involved with a girl name Missy , she was on the extreme end of the "hardcore bitch" spectrum. I remember once she had come over with four knuckle imprints on her forehead from a fight she had gotten into. This was also a time in my life when the dragon had replaced my soul . This brown sugar known as heroin would replace love in my life, filling that place with a dark demon that hunts you , filling you with love and hopelessness all at the same time . That morning Missy had called me , recommending we get a hotel room and some H to celebrate, at the time this was what I considered to be love. I also had an attitude the would get me into trouble with the kind of people now serving time for life. The same time I was dealing and trading all sorts of things for the drug . I work as a cook as well but the money wasn't enough. At the time I was having words the a man named D , we never got along , fighting and mexican stand-off's seemed common. He was the only way I could get H3 , for those of you who know what that is. That night I had a funny feeling so I loaded my crappy 9mm vintage pistol, and took the four thousand dollars of play money out of my wallet and put it in my socks. D came over to our usual meeting house , Dave's. D was really nice, it made me feel uneasy, we never had such easy dealings, I bought the Dragon "20 points" , he was on his way out. I released the door handle from my hand , the door was on a spring so it closed by itself, just as the door was about to click shut . A man about 6'2 kicked the door back open , cocking a sliver shot-gun , the sound echos, everything slows down, he was really right in front of me , not far, my first reaction was just to grab the shot-gun, so there we were all hands on the gun and the gun parallel between us. The fight was on, I had this idea in my head that if I yanked the gun really hard there wouldn't be anyway he could hold on. So here I went , yanking, and flying through the room , landing on the couch , chest down , gun across my chest, this fucker was on my back in no time, if you have been to the house where people party ,"the dope house" you know that there are empty beer bottles, glass bongs, and all sorts of blunt objects everywhere, so he starts smashing them over my head, I began to wondering if yanking that gun was really such a good idea. He also started to reach for my gun, but lucky for me it was such an old piece of shit that the clip fell out as soon as he got it into his hand. ha, ha, than he picked up this thick glass bong , smashing it down over my head , breaking the round bulb at the bottom, the smoke tube stayed intact and with a nice big triangle shard of broken glass at the bottom, it came down cutting my neck open, at which point I gave up , there was so much blood pouring over my face from beer bottles being broken over my head , my eyes burned I couldn't see and there was that iron taste in my mouth , there I was on my knees , bloody, defeated , and bleeding profusely from the left side of my neck . Than he said the dumbest fucking thing i've ever heard " give me your wallet" , with a smile I didn't reveal I handed it over , he ran out the door immediately after grabbing my empty wallet and shot-gun. I was on the phone with Missy, politely requesting to be picked up early. I was kinda in a good mood, I loved getting a good shit kicking anyway , I had the Dragon in my pocket, money in my socks , a beautiful woman coming to pick me up and at that time in my life I have never cared for another so much . She took me to Walmart first , to pick-up medical supplies , all I remember is how white-bright that store was and how blood red I was, small drops of blood on the white floor followed me were ever I went and so did everyones eyes. As we arrived at the hotel I remember a tear or two in Missy's eyes. I asked her why, she told me she didn't like seeing people she loved in pain. It was the first time in my life I heard that, and felt it, it was a false love, but for the moment it was as real as it gets. She washed my wounds , cleaned some of the glass out of my flesh, wrapped, taped, and put that gel stuff where it needed to be. The first puff of that warm sugar taste , the dragon , i could feel the meld of our bodies as my pain turned slowly into pleasure. Her hand on the back of my neck , her lips , wanting , touching, connecting. That night I discover that the closer you come to death to closer you also come to life. I could of been dead but instead I was where few go . In the warm embrace of two types of love , a woman's and a dragon's. The word sex isn't one I would use to describe what happened I don't think we have such words to explain what went on between us that night. As we became each other for a moment or two , I knew this was one of those times that would stick with me forever. Tonight I learned more about myself than most ever do, I knew I was a fighter, I knew when death comes calling I would fight and give in. I found that love can mend , scars are like tattoo's you always remember the day you get them and remember why you get them.


Missy lived in a small one bedroom apartment , with her mother and two brothers , one older , one younger . I'm not sure what really happen but somehow the front window got smashed. Missy slept on the couch , it was a cold winter , she got sick. When I was a boy my Grandfather taught me how to cut and solder glass, stained glass work. So I showed up one morning with a soldering iron , copper foil , solder , and love for the girl. While she slept I foiled the outside edges of the glass window's broken pieces , It took hours to copper foil and arrange all the pieces correctly, love, its the sort of thing that it can do, like an angel's hand working through mine, a boy who's torment made him feel bent could still do such things for love. I had soldered the whole window back together, i left without a word. That family never said a word to me about it , nor did missy. till this day I don't understand why, I didn't need a thank you , I just thought is was strange they never said anything about it. I only had few dealings with Missy after that but one night my friend River wanted to tell me something about the situation with her new roommate. Missy saw me walk into another room with River, she left within a few seconds of me entering the room, made-out with my friend, I guess to spite me, at this point I knew , it was never love, just a moment shared by two people. Like a peddle falling from a rose , such things can never be mended. How could I ever look at her the same again. The first time you stare at the sun you realize it can blind you, so you don't look back. Sometimes a moment shared is a lesson learned, leaving you scarred and you'll remember all those little details , like shards of glass in your skin.


Life , like a journey , it has two defining points , a beginning and an end , and also like a journey its not the destination that matters its everything in between that make it a journey , you are what you know. I'm a young man, 28 . Trying to escape the grasp of the Dragon once more, but he fills me with the warmth of love , its not has for filling as the touch of a woman , but its always guaranteed to fill you with love , while the love that comes from a woman can be used to twist and manipulate you if your ignorant, young or in love with the wrong woman. The question , wait, rather there is no question, there is only her, the answer, but there is no manner of thinking that can summon up this answer, this answer must be found, even fought for at times , but like the leaves on a tree it can change on you. I never once intentional deceived a woman's love for me, I always considered deception weak, it doesn't even reside in my blood, I have the a brutal contempt for men, I love bleeding a weak man to make him stronger , take the chip off a young man's shoulder and iron will grow over the wound. I loved to lock horns. Since I've been a boy I've been a ball of fire , fury, rage. The blood that flows through my veins is sometimes poison, but at time proud , even proud of the scars I bear.