The Diabolical Mr. Lieman

Been clean 6 months. Changes keep comin', and I think I'm cool with every single one.

Two things remain:

Blood and pussy.

[ame="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bkJ7aHhRGMc"]YouTube- Glass Candy - Digital Versicolor[/ame]

Thank you God, for not taking them from me, and presenting me with tough choices so I get to make some bad ones once in a while. Thank you Satan, for presenting them as temptations for me, and letting me dip my fingers into the poison honey, winking at you while I tell God I promise I'll change soon...I know you got your spot for me in Hell, big guy. I got a spot for you too.

[B][SIZE="5"]
THE BLOOD. [/SIZE][/B]

The crisp alert cocaine high and the stench of piss on the drunk tank floor are long gone. All that glass on the concrete glistening with shiny blood has long been swept up and thrown away in some garbage bag full of beer bottles and other remnants of unwanted memories and trials.

Been working, "livin' the life" I suppose, a quaint little paid-by-the-hour gig to get me by 'til I move out west, putting together the parts to make a sweet little short film to make em cry while they try and keep from puking. Had a few chances to fight, and didn't take one of em. Getting by.

Then comes the night of the Rampage/Jackson fight on UFC. It was IN.THE.AIR, I shoulda known. Went to a music show to watch a group play live, missed it...I wound up chilling with a chic I knew from work that turned out to be some fag joint, where neon green strobe lights were flickering like laser darts through a dark black club, surrounded by five women dancing against me with neon flare lights in their hands. Dude walks up to me, and asks if I'm dancing with anyone. I tell him yeah, these bitches. I get it. You wanna rub dicks, man. But I don't roll that way. Now fuck off. Didn't mean to wind up here.

TIme to go. Well Angie gets Steffenie to keep me there with some dick stroking and kissing, so I hang a little longer. And a group of pissy jocks approach me, glaring and waiting for me. The kind of jocks that want to fuck each other. I go to em. What.

Did you say something bad about homosexuals?

Nah. Now fuck off.

Don't you know you're in a gay joint?

Know now. Didn't know then. Whatever, I'm with girls, you wanna blow me though? I might be game. Who's first.

Black dude steps up, and says fuck you, man.

I say what, I'm supposed to be scared of you. Why.

The girls are stepping in, and it's time to go. We're outside, and three of em approach us and start yelling at Angie for being with me...spic this, spic that. One shoves her face, and I grab his arm and yank him forward and throw him against a wall before bitches are spilling on top of us....break it up, not here.

Walking back to another club, and I run into another buddy, and I detach from the girls, and tell him it's time to go hang at a sports bar, the fight is gonna start in an hour. Let's walk now, so by the time we get there, the show will be starting.

Boom, we watch the fight, jocks are swelling up and getting all rowdy, and Jim and I are trying to leave. J asks someone for a smoke. Guy tells him to get the fuck out of his face. I turn around, Jim is asking what the problem is, and this jock is pissing all out of shape, and screaming. I tell him to calm down, tell Jim let's go. A minute later, dude takes a swing and Jim goes down. Looked like he missed. Takes a swing at another guy, and drops him like a bag of bricks. I'm wondering how this kid can have so much lead in his fists, he's not that big.

I'm going to pick Jim up and dude swings at me, and glances my arm, and begins coming after me, and we're tangling and all this shit, and this dude is STRONG. Overpowering me easily, but smaller than me. What the hell man. I'm wanting no part of this...just not feeling it. Finally I run. Chases me around the club, and everyone is looking at me with wide eyes, and it all seems so serious, and Jim and guy are down still, out of it...Im thinking they got knocked out, and Im looking at everyone, and they're telling me something, as Im skipping away from the fucker, who is skipping toward me, swinging. What are they saying...

Razor. Boxcutter. It becomes clear. I look at my arm, and it looks like I dipped it in red paint...blood is spilling from my fingertips onto the ground, and my heart raced. Love found me again, like a lost lover from the rain, and everything I had felt for so long, listening to that music pulse in my veins earlier in that bitch joint for dudes, not making me want to dance, but making me want to HIT someone, all the disease that plagued me for years, having no where good to fall asleep on the gas pedal, I get to play hero, and unload on this man, and kill this man, because this man is cutting me up with a razor, and I get to kill him, and I feel alive again, and snap to motherfucker, you don't feel it? FUCK YOU! It is you, and I felt it, and I stood there and he hit me again, and cut me, and I felt it, and I swung back, and it was on, and thank God for that, thank GOD for bleeding, and there is one carnal pleasure I love more than a wet pussy, is the sight of my blood smeared against me...GOD, it makes me feel like there is something worthwhile to breath for...even it's just a beautiful little thing like payback. So yeah...I swung at him...and I aimed to kill him that night...

[B][SIZE="5"]THE PUSSY. [/SIZE][/B]

God knows, it's become remarkably easy to get. Blondes, brunettes, redheads, and they open em up for me, they give it to me, they take my hand and place it on theirs, they take off their shirts, arch their backs to me, hike their asses in the air, and let me fuck away. Their bodies are my playground, and how fun is that. Plenty. Trust me, it's a goddamn joy.

Been saving that shit for a while though, pushing the boundaries of my will, not taking any of what was presented to me, and been clean that way, too. Bah, make it a game, I tell myself. See how strong you are.

Well of course I can abstain. I've done it for a while, now.

But I'm bored of holding back. In my days of limiting the blood and the violence, I've come to realize, a woman loves a good reformed man, and they love to let em have their holes. So who am I to say no anymore.

There are glorious models available. While other men try to warn them, and give sagely advice to watch their steps, and their husbands get angry, their boyfriends wonder where they are, and while some even fawn publicly over their significant others and walk arm in arm with their lovers for show, they're comin' to me on the side. I'll take that. I'll take that in spades. Women are made to fuck. That is their design. They are fuck clay. And here I am, a flawed goddamn fool, who is constantly given advice by the very women trying to fuck him, to walk away, find someone right, go find someone who can be a good wife, a good girlfriend, not these fiends you've been finding in your life, these compulsive liars, these whores, or anyone else you might be saving for and holding out hope for, that might've been worth it, but carried too many complications...

I'm up on a mountain with an ex homemade porn movie starlet living in my city now, and I'm going home answering texts from another crying because she can't see me that night, and fending off an email asking where I was at tonight, and writing to another, asking HER where she was at, and I'm waking up to pictures of two girls kissing each other, holding up a t shirt with magic marker scribbled JESSE FAN CLUB on it...

Ahhhhh, what THAT does for the ego...

This is a land of pussy, and I can turn right, turn left, turn around and try to run, but everywhere I smell that honeypiss and sweat, and everywhere there seems to be a bitch waiting. And so I ask.

Why resist.

There is a temptation...a sweet one...and I think I'm ready to give in. Too sweet to pass up...and I think...clean.

If this is clean...I think I like this.

I think... I see a land of piss and honey, and I see every which way kind of motherfucking chick who has something to offer me or take from me or leech from me or suck from me or pour over me, and it's just too good to pass up, it's an unbelievable tale, and most will refuse to because motherfuckers like me aren't supposed to land on their feet, motherfuckers like me are supposed to fail to motherfuckers like you can pump your fists, but it aint like that, see, bitches love me, man, so pay attention gentlemen, I don't HAVE to come to your town to get em anymore. I can just take em straight up.

Buckle your chinstraps hub hubs, and fasten your seatbelts, you better start paying your wives a HELLUVA lot of attention, start cooking them french toast in the morning, start making those kettles whistle on those stoves, pour em hot cups of coffee and earn a sweet paycheck, and boyfriends, you better cut those cards real sweet like, buy em all the promise rings your fucking Pizza Hut jobs can afford, not get too mad at them, not have too sharp a tongue, because people like me LOVE fucking those tight little pussies away from you, we LOVE pushing ourselves inside your girlfriends while you cry, and while you tell em you'll turn it around, and we love it when your bitches cum on top of our dicks, and lift themselves up to watch their pussies drip onto us, and look at us and laugh, and run to our houses late at night, offering us up their breasts to come closer, so they can try and sneak kisses, and as long as you're not perfect, men like me...will have our fun. Lately see, I've been REALLY getting to like this one chic. A whole lot. Been REAL curious. Willing to bet she's got a man, too.

GOD, I love pussy.

Women are God's gifts to us. They bring Hell with em, but in the end, isn't it worth it?

Isn't it?

The wait? The worth?

I'm in a land of opportunity. Should I?

The worth is worth it. THe wait is. I'm looking over my shoulder, and there she is....so you know what?