Jason Rimbaud

Struggling to See the Light A Flash Fiction By: Jason Rimbaud His lungs burned as he ran down the alley casting terrified glances over his shoulder every few steps. With each passing moment, the pain in his side intensified until he could no longer bear it and collapsed in a tired heap. Rolling over, he leaned against the brick wall and wiped the sweat from his eyes as he peered back down the alley, listening for any sounds of pursuit. He pressed a hand to the wound in his side, and winced as blood seeped through his fingers. He could feel his life ooze slowly from his body and knew the end was approaching; the pain already subsiding as the blood pooled beneath him. His mind, blurred by heroin and lack of sleep, struggled to comprehend between fantasy and reality. Though only sixteen, he had no illusions about death. He learned long ago that life was seldom fair and for those that lived on the street, life was nothing but stalking demons. Slumping forward, he began to cry. And it wasn't the fact that he would die alone in some deserted alley that caused his tears to stream down his cheeks. But it was the realization that he would never get to see his brother again. Had it only been a year since his father threw him out with a warning to never return? It felt like a lifetime ago, and in his present state, numb from the loss of blood, he thought back to that horrible night when his secret was thrust into the light. In his dementia, the scene played out again, his father bursting into the room, catching him bent over the side of the bed while some stranger thrust wildly into his body. He watched his father nearly beat the man to death before turning his hatred on his own son. His brother had always been his best friend, and for a moment he wondered what would have happened that night if his brother had been at home instead of being away at college. But that thought quickly slipped away as pain caused him to cough uncontrollably. So many times he had picked up a pay phone only to hang up before the first ring. How could he tell his brother that for the last year he had been selling his body for heroin? Quickly, if not painfully, he learned to survive on the streets by first selling his body for shelter, then later for drugs until he existed in a world filled with pain, hunger, and an endless search for drugs. And all this he faced bravely, fighting day to day to preserve this tenuous grip on life. Despite his religious upbringing, selling himself came easily. Especially when he realized that during the sex, he held all the power over his older companions. And for the first time in his life, he was the one in control, even if that control only lasted for an hour at a time. There were times, brought on by the daze of drugs when he fantasized about facing his parents, to show them what he had become, to rub it in their faces. But the love for his brother stopped him. His greatest fear was that his older brother would find out the truth and disown him like his parents had so long ago. That thought alone stopped him from ever returning home long after there was a need to stay away. Shifting his body till his legs were stretched out, he leaned his head back and stared up into the night sky. Looking into the haze above him, his eyes strained to see through the pollution and twinkling lights of the city. For as long as he could remember, he would peer at the night sky and try to count the stars in the heavens. Knowing it was impossible; he would lay there for hours and count himself to sleep. As he lay there gripping to the last threads of life, staring at the night sky, he wondered once again if there really was a God up there that looked over humanity. An all seeing, all knowing being that loved humanity so much that he would die for them. In his short life, he had never seen evidence of that kind of love, but if he ever needed to believe, that time was now. Gathering what remained of his strength, he lifted up his eyes, and said in a raspy voice, "Forgive me, I'm sorry." As he took the last breath, the sky above him suddenly cleared and the last thing he saw on this earth was a single shining star. His face broke out in a smile and he shut his eyes for the last time. I was reading Camy's blog and he mentioned that we should post something in Flash Fiction. So having nothing else to do, I decided to follow in his footsteps. I sat down and wrote without stopping for an hour, just to see what my imagination could accomplish. And in the spirit of sparking creativity, there was no editing, no re-writing of any kind. Long live flash fiction. Jason

Mark and I have reached the point in our relationship where the newness has finally faded and we've moved into the realm of comfortable bliss. Our days slip by with the quickness of one that is quickly approaching the end. Not to say that we aren't stupidly happy, nor do I mean that the sex has lost it's allure, because let's face the truth, we hump like mad men who have finally been released from prison...a all female prison. You could say that everything is perfect... Yet I can't help but think that the other shoe is about to drop...from the top of the Empire State Building right on my pretty little balding head. I know myself, I do, after all I've lived with this crazy freak for thirty-three years and I am painfully aware of my track record. One of the reasons I've had bad luck in past relationships is I find it difficult to keep my...err...manhood in my pants when faced with temptation. In other words, I have a wandering eye for the pretty men I meet in my life. What If I stumble At work, at my hip up-scale restaurant in Palo Alto, I've had my difficulties as well. Mainly from the other servers, servers who for the last two years were my co-workers, my partners in crime, and my equals. And now, because of my recent promotion, I am no longer their equal, now I have to tell them what to do. And I'm finding it a bit hard to balance past friendships with the tedious nature of being responsible for the restaurant. All while trying to maintain a new relationship with Mark, another server who at one time was my equal. And it's not that he expects special treatment, he does, and it's not that he tries to push the boundaries to find the line, he does, and I'm at my wits end trying to juggle all these things while still doing my job to the best of my abilities. And when I have to put my foot down and say enough is enough, after all, it doesn't take thirty minutes to take a piss, not even with a Urinary Track Infection or some other horrible sexually transmitted disease I am hoping beyond sanity that he doesn't have. And though no one knows about us at the restaurant, he knows, and for some stupid reason can't understand that I won't let him do whatever he wishes. What If I stumble... The other day, a server called me aside and asked that I speak to this table that was sitting on the patio. I inquired why, and the server said the guest was quite unhappy that she had found a leaf in her entr?e and was demanding that I take the steak off the final bill. I know... This stupid bitch demanded to be seated outside, it wasn't like we forced her to sit underneath a fucking tree on a windy day in Palo Alto. Nor did we purposely sit her at a table that attracted some kind of flying insect like bears to honey. She picked the fucking table. I mean seriously, how fucking stupid can this bitch possibly be? Can you believe she demanded that we comp her check. What If I stumble... And to make matters worse, we hired this completely sexy, out and proud gay boy that is the spitting image of my friend Daniel in his younger days, so basically he's a nerd, with glasses to boot, and a narrow ass that begs me to squeeze it with my face. He doesn't have the hang-ups that Mark clings to like a virgin clings to it's pillow. He's proud to be gay, comfortable even, even in public. And he smart, witty, charming, and dare I say, dead fucking sexy. What If I Stumble... And to make matters worse, he has made his intentions quite known to the staff. Remember, no one at work knows about Mark and I, so in the broader sense, he's doing nothing wrong. But this leaves me in quite the pickle, as far as everyone is concerned I'm single and if you ask the staff, in desperate need of some loving. Then you have Mark, trying in vain to control his jealousy as the nerd chases me with determination that is quite commendable, if I wasn't balancing a jealous boyfriend, friends who won't mind their own fucking business, and a boss that sits back and laughs at the whole damn mess, I'd probably shit myself with laughter. What If I stumble... All this and I'm a bit frazzled. I really like Mark...like...fuck that, I told him I loved him this morning before I crawled out of bed to head off to work. And I do, love him that is, and I know I won't jeopardize this for some sexy nerd with glasses or a hot, sweaty, semi-violent one night stand. But I know how I sabotage my happiness, and I am fearful of this past behavior. And then, this morning, way before Mark opened his beautiful brown eyes, I lay there, his pale body entwined with mine, the soft snoring that escaped his lips, and the occasional sleep noises he made, brought such comfort that all these fears slipped away and I couldn't help the ravaging of his sleeping body. While I was in the shower, I couldn't help but laugh at myself. I was so worried about the thousand what-ifs that I had completely forgotten about the things that mattered most. Worrying about stumbling is no way to live a life, because let's face it, everyone stumbles. It doesn't matter that we stumble, all that matters is how we get back up and try it again. What If I stumble...who fucking cares.

Thanks Des, at least I know I'm not filled with wishful thinking. That being said, how can you have such a boring BF? After all, aren't you a confessed Hippie? What happened to free love and all that? Jason

Thanks Cole, Your words make me feel all funny inside... Praise from a reader is always nice, but praise from a talented author is almost unbelievable. Jason (remember I said almost unbelievable, as I know I'm a great writer)

Thanks Bruin, Writing this piece was pure, in the moment self-loathing. And I'm quite proud of the finished product. Thankfully, I've come a long way since living those type of nights. Jason

Thanks Bruin, I wanted to write something fuzzy bunny slippers using a model of homosexual love as the inspiration for breeders to follow. I think I did a pretty good job at that. Jason

Now if only I could write something longer than two hundred words. Though I do have several other flash fiction shorts starring these characters, I can't seem to link them together for something longer. Thanks Bruin, Jason

Being a fan of piratical jokes, even I would never go as far as Camy decided to take his characters. *shudders* Still, I'd love to see this little ditty as a short film. Gruesome. Jason

I remember being so confused during my High School days, one moment I would be flirting with a guy and the next minute calling him a faggot, mainly because I was so scared of my sexaulity. If only I had done things differently. Oh well, great job Emu, I like it when you write as well. Jason

Poetic Justice of A One Night Stand By: Jason Rimbaud I feel sick, diseased and lifeless. I saw the darkest parts of myself today and struggled with the reality long after the hope of ever changing had faded into fantasy. I'm dirty and in need of a shower. Have you ever fucked someone for the sole purpose of trying to feel alive? I washed the sheets today, they were stained and filled with memories I'd rather forget. His name was, Alex, and I met him at Nola's last night after I got off work. He was a tall, skinny, brunet with a lop-sided grin. In a bar filled with straight women and ugly old fags, he was the only one I'd fuck with the lights on. It was pathetic, awkward, and unfulfilling. A coupling where all you really want is to cum as fast as possible just so the night would be over. Have you ever fucked someone for the sole purpose of trying to feel alive? His breath smelled of unwashed ass, even after I made him rinse out with Mouthwash. A putrid smell I swear I can still smell on my dick, hours after I bid him adieu. But tonight I needed a dumpster, a stranger, someone I would never have to see again. Release is primal, and jerking off only takes you so far. Have you ever fucked someone for the sole purpose of trying to feel alive? I saw stains on my carpet, I wonder if Resolve would truly remove them? Alex was cute, tall and gangly but with way too much body hair. I've seen less hair in old 70s porno movies. I told him to get his situation under control; it's 2007 for Christ's sake. He couldn't have weighed more than one-hundred-and-forty pounds, and stood at least six foot three. At first I had fears of breaking him in half, though that fear faded once primal urge took over. When he stripped off his clothes, I admit, I was a bit surprised. Because a monster cock fell out of his boxers that looked enormous on his small frame. And though I know cocks always look bigger on skinny guys, his dick was huge. And I found this endowment rather amusing because he was a total bottom. This gives me a small belief in the idea of a god. Because only the twisted god of the Christians would have the sense of humor to give a total cock slut like Alex such a monster cock. Have you ever fucked someone for the sole purpose of trying to feel alive? Having sex with Alex was like fucking a box of ice, cold and slightly numbing. The noises he made were small and in the wrong places. I thought at first he was simply going through the motions, but his freaky cock was hard the whole time. I don't think he came, though sex was never about him in the first place. Have you ever fucked someone for the sole purpose of trying to feel alive? I washed my sheets today, three times; I think they might still be dirty. Or maybe it's just the grime I sense inside myself. His name was Alex, and he told me he was just out of a two month relationship with his once confused best friend. I wonder why all gay boys crush on their straight best friends? Again my belief in a god doubles. At Nola's, he told me he was tired of jerking off and of sleeping alone. All he wanted from me on this random night was some human contact and a bit of compassion. I guess one out of two isn't bad. Have you ever fucked someone for the sole purpose of trying to feel alive? I scrubbed my carpets this morning, early, right after I told him to leave my apartment. I can still see the look on his face, a sad look of quiet acceptance. It was heartbreaking to see a fellow human so broken, so conditioned by the world to believe the notion that having sex with another male is morally wrong. I saw hints of tears in his blue eyes as he quickly pulled on his clothes. Alex is still young, young enough to have delusions about one day finding true love and lasting commitments. In the brief time he spent in my bed, I think I might have jaded him, tarnished his golden armor, and set him on a path to becoming another jaded fag, just like me. Have you ever fucked someone for the sole purpose of trying to feel alive? His name was Alex and he was beautiful. His hair smelled of honey and mixed berries, I can still smell his designer cologne on my skin. And his breath was intoxicating, a mixture of beer and cigarettes that always drives me wild. Young and filled with passion, Alex was a tiger in the bedroom. The sex, though primal, was filled with passion and sweat. Why does the innocence smell sweeter before the act, while afterwards it reeks of guilt and self-loathing? Have you ever fucked someone for the sole purpose of trying to feel alive? I washed myself four times today, I still feel dirty though. Scrubbing the stains from my carpet was something I could control. Elbow grease works, my carpet is once again spotless. Just like my shower, the fourth time I showered I spent most of the time scrubbing it. My skin smells like 409 Bathroom cleaner. My toes and hands are wrinkled, and I don't think I'll ever feel clean again. Have you ever fucked someone for the sole purpose of trying to feel alive? Have you just fucked somone over? Have you?

Friends By: Jason Rimbaud Lance shifted his gaze towards his two best friends, Justin and Scott. He creased his forehead together as he tried to differentiate the two. Lately, if you saw one you saw the other, joined at the hip without being overly annoying like most couples. Never a fan of public displays of affection, they were subtle about their love, showing it in little ways, a glance, a touch, a blush, a steady showing of love that only a blind person would miss. Lance felt a sudden surge of love for his friends, without their knowledge, their relationship was the catalyst that pushed him over the edge and helped him find the courage to propose to Shelia. They were the true testament of love?s perseverance and understanding; and maybe more importantly, love?s forgiveness. The two boys were sitting together, so close as to be on top of one another. They were holding hands, something they just started doing a few weeks earlier; an unconscious display of love that Lance thought was cute. Scott noticed the staring and mouthed, ?What?? Lance smiled, ?I love you.? Scott winked with a smile, his fingers brushing the back of Justin?s hands tenderly.

A Disturbing Phone Call By: Jason Rimbaud ?Hello? ?Hi, baby.? Smiling, Justin replied, ?Mom, how are you?? ?I?m fine, how you holding up?? ?A bit tired, but I?m used to that.? ?Are you eating properly?? ?I just ate breakfast,? Justin said, adding, ?How?s everyone there?? ?Everyone went sailing with your dad.? Regretting the time away from his family, Justin sighed as his mother added, ?Sarah called.? ?Yeah.? He replied hesitantly. ?She wants her ring back.? Looking over at his dresser, he said, ?I?ll send it off today.? Sitting on the chair, Justin said, ?I wish she called me instead of you.? ?She?s a bit pissed at you at the moment.? ?I can?t blame her for that.? ?No you can?t. We had a long talk.? She added, ?I love you, and it?s your decision but you really need to talk to her.? Justin replied through a sigh, ?I can?t...not yet. ?Are you sure you don?t want to tell me what happened?? ?One day, but not yet,? Justin said. ?Just remember I?m always here.? ?Thanks.? Justin hung up the phone and wiped the tears away. How could he tell his mom the truth? She so wanted grandkids; it would break her heart. He looked in the mirror, ?I?m gay.?

Ummm, thanks I think. Trust me Maddy, I know what you're going through. I"m not really happy about it either. Jason (stupid Jason)

I've watched every video Bo's put out since I discovered him about a year ago. For being as young as he is, his wit is quite remarkable as is the way he strings words together. Klan cookout is probably one of my favorites along with My Family Thinks I'm Gay. Jason

Trab, after everything that has happened over the last year, I feel like the luckiest man in my apartment. hmm, trying to figure out if being a tart is a good or bad thing?*shrugs* Don't care, really. Mark is sitting beside me as I type this. Cole, as happy as I am right now, and I am, but at times I'm scared, waiting for the shoe to drop with Mark. And just like you, I hope that I don't fuck it up or hope he doesn't fuck it up. Here's to doing the right thing. Wibby, you calling me weird is like a pot calling the kettle black. But then you did get the movie reference, so I'll let it slide without pointing out your own weirdness. As for molesting Mark, do I detect a hint of jealousy? Bruin, you wouldn't believe how happy writing this entry has made me. Jason

Hey Des...you can keep the award as long as I still get to keep Mark. Jason

Camy, didn't you know the only way to keep score in this crazy thing called life, keeping score in how well you're keeping up with the Jones, is to judge by how much stuff you have. The more stuff you have, the better you are as a human.At least, that's what I keep telling myself to justify keeping all my stuff...Jason

So it's been a weird week. And by weird...I mean down-right fucking insane with a dash of stupidity thrown in to complete the mix. So why was it so weird, down-right fucking insane with a dash of stupidity you ask? *waits for you to ask* All right, don't get pushy, I'll explain. First, with my new promotion at work... Wait, did I tell you I got promoted at work? Well, I did. Three weeks ago, I got promoted to Assistant Manager at my hip up-scale restaurant in Palo Alto, California. Before that promotion, I was promoted to Catering Manager as well. So with this new promotion, I've been working about seventy hours a week. I'm in charge of catering sales, so I spend most of my mornings on the phone, or exchanging emails with potential clients. I drive to their house, we discuss the details and the logistics of how they wish to threw the event and then I coordinate with the rental company for any tables, chairs, cutlery, etc etc. After which, I spend a few hours with the Chef discussing the menu, and after we hammer out the details, I call the client back and get their final approval. This takes up the bulk of my day, nine AM to three PM. After which, I change from my suit and into my serving clothes, if I'm working in the restaurant that night, and head in to work at PM. Then I work till about eleven or twelve, maybe go out for a drinkie poo before heading home. Once home, I check my mail, reply to all work related messages, perhaps chat for a few online, then hit the sheets to get up around 7am and start the whole damn thing all over again. Oh yeah, I love it. I know, you're saying that's not that insane at all, but try doing that for a few months, six days a week and the pressure starts to build. Believe me...I know. Where was I? That's right, Mark. Mark and I have the most ridiculous relationship in the history of ridiculous relationships. I know this for a fact because I did research on the Internet and I'm way out in front of even the most bizarre celebrity relationship. We aren't dating, but we spend so much time together we might as well be. He stays over a few nights a week, we have dinner together, we watch movies together, I spend time with his little sister and mother...but we're not dating. *rolls eyes* It's getting a bit more insane but still not there to qualify my opening sentence. I know, be patient, I'm getting there. Am I the only one that has this most treasured trait? So last weekend was Pride Weekend here in San Francisco and after weeks of working six days a week and who knows how many hours, factoring in the stress of dealing with my non-relationship with Mark, I was more than ready to blow off a bit of steam. And what better way to "blow" off steam than hanging out in SF with thousands of fellow queers celebrating my culture? When I was in my early twenties, I was quite the party animal/monster/slut/insane person and if there was one thing I knew how to do back then, it was to have fun. I did all the drugs, I fucked all the boys, and did so many stupid things I sometimes wonder how I survived it all with nothing but a few scars. I might add all those scars are internal, as I'm still beautiful on the outside. This one time, at band camp...guess that movie reference? So when I was twenty-two, I lived in Pennsylvania, and spent most of my time in straight bars with straight friends. There were several gay bars there but as none of my friends were gay, I found it was just easier to hang out with them and hit the gay bars after they called it a night. After all, they usually went home around twelve and everyone knows gay boys don't hit the bars till a bit later. It worked out for me. Anyway, one night in this bar called, Kokomo's a really cool sports bar, I noticed this hot boy sitting across the bar. It didn't take me long to figure out he was gay, so I did what any gay boy would do, I struck up a conversation with him. It was easy, I already had a few drinkie poos and was feeling pretty invincible. I'm sure you've been there before. Now I've been accused of acting pretty straight most of the time so it was no surprise when the boy, Greg, said something to the effect that I was pretty cool for a straight boy. Knowing most gay boys have a fantasy of seducing straight boys, I decided to act out the part. I know, I'm pretty cool like that. So I let him believe I was straight, a bit curious but definitely straight. So I pretended to think about it for a long time when he asked if I wanted to go back to his house for one more drinkie poo before shyly agreeing. I remember him being pretty smug as we left the bar and started the ten block trek back to his house. After leaving Kokomo's, we had to pass by the block that housed the three local gay bars, a block that was nicknamed the Queer Circle, as the gay boys would visit first one bar, then the other, then the other, before heading back to the first one, making a giant circle of prancing gay boys. Anyway, as we approached Queer Circle, I noticed a car drive by with two older guys, and when they passed us, they slowed down and stared before speeding off. We had made it about half way down the block when that same car passed again, slowing down first. Needless to say, they were very appreciative of the two of us. I looked at Greg and pointed it out. He laughed and said they thought we were a couple. So I said, "I'm tired of walking, if they come 'round again, let's ask them for a ride." He looked a bit dubious, but as they came up again, I flagged them down and walked over to the car before he could say anything. The must of been in their late forties, kind of chubby and completely perverts. They asked what we were doing and I said we were going back to Greg's house to get a drink. They asked where it was, and I pointed up the block and asked if they'd give us ride. They discussed it for a moment, and said sure. Greg and I climbed in the back seat. The passenger turned around and asked, "How long have you been a couple?" Greg laughed and said we weren't a couple and that I was straight. The passenger looked disappointed and turned back around. So being the little devil that I am, I grabbed Greg and pulled him into a kiss, pulling him on top of me in the process. As we sat there making out, the passenger turned back around and started watching, I'm pretty sure his hand was in his pants. The driver had moved the mirror and was looking at us more than the road ahead. The passenger groaned when I opened Greg's pants and started touching him. Greg was shocked but definitely happy and went with the flow, I think he got off on the fact that we were doing this in front of two total strangers, I know I was. Arriving at Greg's house, the two old men almost begged us to let them come inside and watch. I think Greg might have said yes, but fucking in front of two old pervs wasn't something I wanted to do, so I told them no but thanked them for the ride by burying my face in Greg's crotch. I'd call this night a weird, down-right fucking insane with a dash of stupidity night. I jumped in a car with two strangers without ever thinking of what could have happened, I was lucky that nothing happened. And I have more stories just like that, but I was living life and never thought of consequences that might happened. And after all these years, I had thought I put all this stupidity behind me. But guess what, I had at least one more weird, down-right fucking insane with a dash of stupidity night left in me. And that happened to be last Friday night. To Mark's credit, when I informed him of my plans to go to SF to partake in the Pride festivities, he voiced his concerns that in that type of environment, I might slip up and "party" with a bunch of strangers. And to translate the term "party", it means to use cocaine. I admit it felt nice to have someone care about me, I couldn't help but feel all warm and fuzzy bunny slippers. I told him I needed to go out and have some fun, I couldn't handle staying home one more night. So he countered by inviting me to this house party a friend of his from school was having to celebrate the end of the semester. Believe me, it was difficult to decide between attending Pride with a boatload of queers or hanging out with a bunch of straight frat boys in their early twenties. The deciding factor was that I would be spending time with Mark, even if I had to pretend we weren't having sex three times a week for the last three months and I probably wouldn't have any fun. So after work on Friday, after changing at Mark's house, we headed over to this party. Before we walked in the house, Mark said that if I wasn't having any fun, to let him know and we could leave. I thought that was pretty cool, and he didn't even asked me to pretend to be straight. Who would've thought that at my age I would have a blast at a party loaded with drunk twenty-year-olds? Not me...that's for sure but that's also exactly what happened. And for being an old man with balding hair, I must admit that more than a few of those college chicks were quite taken with me and one even asked if I wanted to go back to her house for some "fun". I declined of course but it did help my self esteem. Most of the night, I watched poor Mark dodge this cute little blonde that apparently has been chasing him all year all over campus. If I hadn't a stake in Mark, I would've told him to let the poor girl catch him, she was really cool and completely hysterically funny. But as I do have a stake in Mark, I wanted to kill her or at least push her off the second floor balcony while she was smoking. I was a bit surprised how awkward and shy Mark was around these girls. When he was chasing me, he didn't seem shy at all, matter of fact, he was pretty blatant about his intentions. But around these girls, he was clumsy and couldn't seem to find his tongue and when he did, something stupid came out of his mouth. It was rather amusing and for most of the night, it kept me quite entertained. That was before Mark decided to have a bit too much to drink. That's when the real fun started. Most of you know Mark is a pothead...and he can smoke all day and still function somewhat normally. But give him three or four drinks, and he's all over the place like an idiot. And when Mark gets a bit drunk, he starts to get a bit...touchy to put it mildly. And around midnight...I was outside on the balcony having a smoke and Mark stumbled out with this stupid grin on his face. I'm not sure if he saw the other people outside or if he just didn't care, but he walks right up to me and puts his hand on my cheek and says, "Hi you." I smiled and said, "Hi." "I like you." And then he kisses me, right there in front of everyone. What was a boy to do? I kissed him back, pulling him in closer to me. After a few moments, he wraps his arms around my waist and looks at everyone with this stupid grin on his face and says, "I'm gay." Everyone looked kind of shocked, so I said, "Don't worry, I'm gay too, it's all right." And just like that, Mark was mine. We left the party a while later, but not before finding out that no one there really cared, except the blonde chick, she was definitely a bit jealous but who cares, I knew if it came down to it I could take her in a fair fight. Mark was drunk so I drove home, he didn't want to go back to his house, and I guess I could understand why, so around two or so we ended up back at my apartment. You might say, that doesn't seem weird, down-right fucking insane with a dash of stupidity kind of night that would warrant my above comment. But that wasn't the end of the night, oh no, not by a long shot. The weird part didn't start until we were smack dab in the middle of...err...having some fun in my bed. Mark grabbed my face with both hands, pulled me close and whispered into my lips, "I love you." And without thinking, I replied, "I love you too." Jason

I must've read this piece ten or twenty times before I got what the author was trying to convey. The lines are filled with stark imagery and a desperate voice that seems at first, world weary, but upon further readings, I began to see the underlying anger from someone who is tired of being shutdown, tired of feeling less than human, and poised for a revolution. My favorite lines is... How close to the end of existence have we come when a person can be bought for a few quid/dollars? When did those street people become less than human in our eyes? Why do we treat the dirtiest, smelliest, flee-bitten dog better than a fellow human who needs us even more than those animals? I fear for the future of the world when animals become more important than humans. Great poem, I"m sorry that it took so long for me to find the words to comment, but when you write something that is filled with layers, it takes time to strip away and find the heart. Jason

A few months ago, as a writing exercise, I proposed constructing a poem, each writer building upon those lines that came before. There was no outline or theme, each writer was free to let their muse run wild. I didn't really have any expectations other than sharing in the creation of something unique with some talented writers. And yet imagine my surprise as I watched this gem slowly take shape as each author spun their magic. The finished product is a simple yet thought provoking piece that begs the question, Why Am I, and the most important question, what happens next. Not only did this exercise exceed all my expectations but it also taught me a few things about drafting poetry. So thanks to all of those that contributed to this poem and to Steven Keith for suggesting the title. I hope everyone doesn't mind me taking the liberty to choose a title...I think everyone will be more than pleased. Jason Decision By: Jason Rimbaud, DesDownUnder, Trab, Sat8997, Rustic Monk, Rad Steven, Camy, Steven Keith Is there some other way out of here Other than driven by our own fear Maybe appeal, of those we hold dear Self reliance abandoned, that much is clear But am I leaving or running away By not moving from where I stay Faltering, each and every day No, there must be another way I must search out the reason why More so now that I feel the end is nigh Loneliness rules; I refuse to die Without knowing, why am I? If I step back and look for clues Willing, as always, to pay my dues What will I find, and what will I lose If I am unwilling to choose The end is nigh; a decision soon By the half, quarter or full moon Shall I wait till the Sun's high noon Before I banish all thoughts of doom

what is wibby trying to tell us? Hmm, story indeed! Jason

Wow, I'm pretty bummed that Gabe has decided to move on. His poetry, and his friendship will be missed here at Awesome Dude. Though I know I'll still be able to keep in touch with him, reading his poems was something I always looked forward to. Happy trails Gabe, may your voice continue to resonant. Jason

Camy,I'm glad to hear you're writing again. As for your friend leaving the net, well, I know how much this will affect you. I'm sorry. Jason