The Other is Ecstasy

I thought you would have known by now that I’m no good for you, baby. I’m no good the way I drag your heart out with my teeth.

You want to get up close. You want to crawl inside and taste me where it hurts.

When I let my mind wander it’s you like fire snaking through my veins, racing along my skin. You give me sex but I want feeling. I’ve been dead for so long now. I’m used to being alone with the black dress of night.

They give me work to do to stifle the screaming. Greenblue hum of glorified madness.

People are brick walls with no eyes, impossible to penetrate by softness of hand. Pain as startled liberation; violence to snatch you out of yourself and bring you back to life.

Early morning is gray like a tombstone and it is everywhere moaning its silence. I pour my coffee and fall from a storm cloud far off beyond the distant hills, the rushing of traffic and labyrinth halls which pulse their neon red sound.

There is a sadness we do not speak out loud

for fear of it killing us.

It burrows in.

You come to me like chimes at midnight. Spread my body upon cool grass. Using your thumbs you close my eyes. Choose your words carefully, baby. The dead are just sleeping – just dreams in your head. Touch me there. Kiss me at the gateway to this life like a prison.

Gatekeeper. God as Deadly Wanting. Holy Release.

One way out is pain. The other is ecstasy.

. . . .

I’ve been writing shit poetry in old beat up notebooks because I cannot seem to understand who I am at the moment. If I don’t write I go out of my mind, and I go out of my mind when I do, but I prefer the latter. The former is a suicidal masturbation. They don’t want you to write. They don’t want you to know yourself because if you do you will know them, too. See all the way the fuck inside. Find out we are all the same. Find out the secrets and destroy the game.

16 Replies to “The Other is Ecstasy”

  1. Sweet mother of all that is fucking exhilarating and intensely mind-boggling! Such a raw intensity. This piece clutches one with its sharp claws, elevates high, then drops deeper than the deepest end. It’s crazy how it’s both scary and alluring. It reads like a brilliant stream of consciousness that then rages within until it matures into somewhat deranged coming of age realization that life is to be fucking lived through pain, pleasure, mundane, and ecstatic. You paint with words in such a breathtaking way, dear Allison. Fucking brilliant you are. ❤️❤️❤️

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Sometimes I feel like my angels have claws and I feel like a weirdo but your words make me feel so seen and grateful I could cry. 😥 Thank you for being so gracious and lovely, sweet Danijel. 🙏🏻♥️♥️🌹🕊

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I hear you. I assure you that even if I were to agree that you are a weirdo then I would also say that the world would be a much much much better and especially brilliant place with more “weirdos” like you are. Also, of course angels have claws as well as soft gentle tips. They also have dirty faces at times. If they were always “pure” then they would also not be real. I love your real just as much as I love your magical. Rock like only true rockstars like you can, wondrous Allison. Now and always. I know for a fact that to be brutally honest (no matter how painful that sometimes is) leads to a more wholesome experience of joy, sorrow, love, life… ❤️❤️❤️

        Liked by 1 person

        1. I wish I could tell you how incredible your words are, how much they uplift me. Dearest Danijel. You are so right about honesty, the brutal beauty of it is real. That you would take the time to witness it, to be in it with me… I just adore you. ❤ ❤ ❤

          Liked by 1 person

    1. How generous you are with your kind encouragement, I am so very grateful to you. Once long ago you told me I possessed an “extraordinary talent”… I was so taken by that and I never forgot hearing that from you. It stays with me … especially in dark times. Thank you ever so much beyond.

      Liked by 1 person

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