bang, bang [ziam]

church-boy weed

song: the force - aim

welcome to this new shit show! thanks for getting this far lmao.

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z.m

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it's what i always did when i felt bitter or confused; leave the apartment early in the morning wrapped in expensive, japanese silk with a fag tight in my mouth, waiting for the thick legged, twenty-something-year-old jogger to run past. it's strange how desperate minds think alike because immediately our eyes would meet across the bustling street, sweat dripping from his brow, a cigarette crushed on the pavement by my slipper.

he's young and pretty and clueless and that's what makes it so easy to shove him into some grimy restroom nearby. let the him suck me off like a pornstar as i puff away on a cigarette, pretending to get off on it. we both know what we want, he wants a job and i just want to come.

i guess it's easy when he's moaning and sucking on me like his life depends on it, and, maybe it really does. there's a certainty that the flexible blonde has a lot more going on behind his fluttering lashes and feigned promiscuity. he's seen my face on the paper with a big, fat, gold trophy in my hand for designing a collection of beautiful dresses. he's a fan.

sometimes i feel sorry for the lad, thinking he's got me wrapped around his finger because i use his mouth as an outlet, but it's not like i ask him to do it. this is all intentional and unfortunately for him, i don't care. he thinks i'm into him and that he's special because i seem to always come around. but as i said, it's not my loss, really. there's thousands of drunken and dreamy picks in this town.

the whole show of him coincidentally running by my apartment everyday and wanting to be actor is really quite funny. thinking that flicking his tongue the way he does when his got my dick in his mouth will force me to budge and make him brad pitt or something. i'm surprised he's not reciting tired scripts while he blows me off with the amount of star-fuckery that intoxicates the atmosphere he appears in.

sadly, this is as close as he will get to the film industry - in fact, it's just as cruel as this. but i wasn't opposed to false hope. a good trick i've learned over the years is that it's easy to not feel sorry for people when you don't know their names. at least, that's my rule anyway.

it wasn't like i was morbidly obese or devastatingly ugly, i just didn't like the idea of taking someone seriously - my carriage was full. it was like it was not humanly possible for me to date because of incapability of suffering fools that introduce their presence. i don't care what anyone thinks about me, i just hate the thought of dragging someone behind to pick up my scraps. the people i seem to attract are the ones that desire to make me a better person or want something from me. i preferred the latter.

i'm an asshole. i'm selfish and having a pretty good time with myself. i like it that way, i like being belligerent and going too far. i like laughing at all the wrong things, inappropriateness was easier to mold into. the times when i forget my own name, when i'm shouting through a crowd of sweaty people that want me, it all fitted better than words could describe. i'm in love with the small touches of ecstasy that whirls around with a pill or a bottle. i like the sundays i spend around my dealer's place, squatting around my flat with a big bag of 'dro and a bong, accompanied with someone i didn't mind. drinking wine and eating cheese, cotton mouthed, waiting for the week days when i went back to work and put up with actors and their commands. making beautiful things for ugly people.

my mind was preoccupied. i don't need someone else to think about. rough sex and not knowing the name of the person you're fucking around with was all i needed to feel content.