One can’t even imagine the amount of fornication and sin that happens during the night. Under the cover of street laps within the shadows, lurking. Once you get involved in it, it’s a hard place to walk away from. We all have been down dark paths but some obviously darker than others. I’m sure they are people out there who have done things that will make every sin I’ve committed look like a simple lie. Consumed by anger and hate, for obvious reasons, I couldn’t care less about women. Not that relations with the opposite sex had stooped no it wasn’t that.
The whole concept and idea of feelings didn’t make sense, I couldn’t grasp it, in fact I don’t think I even wanted to. Late at night is when I usually took my daily walks. Gave me a chance to reflect on the day and on the things to come. Now the neighborhood I stayed in was really notorious, known for having gangsters, pimps and prostitutes on every corner. I know it’s hard to believe, I know it sounds like a scene out of one of those cheap Hollywood movies that hardly make any income but it is true.
These things do happen, things really do go bump in the night. There I was walking with the baddest of the bad with nothing to fear. I was actually a bit arrogant about it really didn’t care what would happen to me or where I would end up. Just me in my black jacket with a cigarette in my mouth, a true “bad ass”, excuse my French. During one of my night walks a prostitute pulled my hand begging me for “business “, I quickly pulled away disgusted by her. I asked her what she meant by the business and she proceeded to say. “Aren’t you a man, aren’t I a woman. What else is there for us to do.. ” I remember getting home and pondering over those words for hours. Wondering how she felt, does she actually enjoy it and how much does she make. Days went by and the thoughts never left my head they just circled my mental day in day out with no end.
Finally I broke, it got to me, I needed to know what it felt like. Grabbed my black jacket and lit the cigarette as I was walking out the front door. It didn’t take long for me to run into a whole herd of them. Cut off all emotions, needed to be ruthless for this. My eyes shifting through all of them, too skinny, too fat, ugly, smelly…. Couldn’t find one attractive enough. As I turned to walk away I bumped right into her, perfect, she was just the right weight, height and everything. She was just right. I was looking at her but not in the way a man would look at a woman he loves or even adores, no not in that way. She looked like meat to me, that’s what it felt like. I mean that’s the thing they don’t tell you about it, it’s like a scavenge. Let me explain.
Lions hunt for their meals because of the thrill of the hunt, the rush it gives them I’m pretty sure the feeling is almost orgasmic but the hyena doesn’t have time for all of that. The hyena is a scavenger, no thrill of the chase, no blood rush or adrenaline boost. Just simple survival, that’s what it’s about. Didn’t have time to take of her clothes simply pulled her panties to the side and proceeded. Every thrust felt different, I swear I could feel myself getting lost deeper and deeper into the abyss. I hated her, I hated myself but I didn’t stop. With the finale coming closer she let out this low key moan. I knew it was fake and she knew it too but I guess those are just the tools of the trade. Wouldn’t blame her for it I understood that she had to do it just to make me feel more alive in the moment.
After the payment she was on her way never to be seen by me again not that it would have any effect on me at all if I was to encounter her under different circumstances. We went our separate ways, her back to her struggle and me back to the student life. I thought it would feel different, like some cloud of regret would come over me but it wasn’t like that at all. I felt fine, super even, no regrets no turning back. In fact the whole idea excited me a lot. Before I knew it I was back on the streets, jacket on cigarette in hand, scavenging.
You can imagine after time they all seemed to look the same, same tatty clothing, same sad daddy story. I’m pretty sure some of them thought I cared but with each new girl ‘experienced’ my sympathy meter was out of order. I couldn’t care less about their well beings as humans, they were meat. What I didn’t realise is that this new dark side I had developed would affect every aspect of my life. Even at school I began to drift away, the ‘meat’ there was irritating to me.
My friends noticed the change and tried talking to me a couple of times but ‘meat’ talks too much. I finally hit rock bottom when my mom became ‘meat’. Her voice trembled over the phone as she begged me to talk to her. I was absent minded don’t even know where my thoughts were that day. As mothers do she gave me a lecture about life and how she had struggled to make sure that I was able to get a good education. That’s the thing about growing up with no father figure, there really is no one to put you back in line. I’m certain I heard my mom’s heart break over the phone but I was too blinded by my own darkness to care. I regret it!
Poetic Dictator
