WARNINGS: reference to drugs, alcohol, homosexuality, sexual themes, ideological sensitivity, brief reference to nudity, poorly written suicide

I guessed on where to put this....A burst of inspiration while trying to go to sleep at 4 am eastern time....though it veered WAY off of what came to mind...I think what had originally came to mind was conception of a life. I dunno...it turned into this.

Choppy sentencing but whatever. It flowed when I was writing it, so deal. :/

Long poem is long.

Tears fall,
Masked by the room’s darkness.
Faint glow between fingers;|
The joint that wasn’t working.
Mild depression,
Memory induced.
Two years of pain--

He loved me.
He loved me not.

Eyes clench shut,
Blocking questions,
Blocking rouge emotions.
Tears keep falling.
He wishes they’d stop.
Memories build,
Rising from their graves.
Why wasn’t the joint working?
Flicks it aside,
The useless high,
Grabs the bottle;
Luckily at his side.
One swig for the tears,
It burns its way down.
Memories still come--

It was Friday night,
His truck bed was cold.

Eyes clench shut again,
Tighter this time,
Trying to shut his mind up--

Timid as hell,
Unaware of what was coming.
Clothes were gone,
His body freezing from the cold.

A second swig,
The first a failure.
Throat’s on fire,
He wishes it would spread,
Burn the memories to ash.
A few more swigs,
The bottle’s half empty,
But the memories still come--

His lips were teasing,
Making him shiver,
And his touch warm,
Making him melt.

Throws the bottle,
The empty glass shattering.
He feels numb,
Aside from his heart.
Emotions rip it open,
More tears fall,
And the memories play on--

First there was pain,
Loud and piercing.
Rapture soon followed,
Overwhelming.
Vision was blurred;
Was that right?
Soothing words,
Gentle caressing.

“Just stop!”
His voice is feeble,
On the verge of cracking.
Hands hide his face,
A distortion of feelings;
Hate, sorrow, betrayal;
Love, lust, trust.
Memories shift,
Pictures in the mind change--

Pinned down,
Struggling.
His grip was too strong.
Panic, fear, confusion,
Why was he doing this?
Couldn’t push away,
Arms were too weak.
Explosion of pain,
Expressed by yelling.
Pleading for him to stop.
Ignored, denied.

Stumbling to his feet,
Trying to run from the image--

He loved me.
He hated me.
He needed me.
He used me.

Memories causing confusion.
Confusion causing depression.
Depression causing anger.
Two years of pain,
Flooding, drowning rationality.
He wants it to stop;
The memories, the pain,
The anger, the depression.
Opens a drawer, fumbling through junk,
Fingers meet metal,
His step-father’s pistol.
He takes it up,
Hesitantly.
He’s afraid;
Will it work?
His slight buzz urges,
Answering his question--

Yes.
It would end.

Eyes clench shut,
The images of love--
And rape--
Replay, starting over.
Presses the barrel to his temple.
It throbs,
He’s pressing too hard.
One squeeze,
Gentle doesn’t work.
Harder, tighter,
Squeezing again.
The images shatter,
The screaming bullet’s doing.

Blood.
It’s warm.

Memories fade,
Vision turns black,
Eyes staring,
No more tears.
Silence reigns,
But one thought’s left--

He never loved him.