In the Ghetto

Radio in my ears is playing Nick Cave's rendition of Elvis's classic. Walking down deserted streets after midnight seemed to be a better idea than being left home in agony, hunted by demons of solitude, demons I hate and adore at the same time as they torture me the same way they make me relish my life and subdue the everlasting numbness of my days.

Buying a Kinder egg, not for me; it's for those deep curious eyes.

Kneeling

Life hurts — and on top of that it's fatal. It can squeeze my heart deep in the night when I'm too weak to pass out. Looking up the stars, if there's any, and trying to hide from troubling thoughts, unable to suffer like a man when confronted with my existence. It seems never-ending, stabbing me, boiling me, ripping me, smiting me. Negligence, ignorance, confusion, all my miscalculated slips and wrongdoings over the years are coming back to me. Lies, lies, and more lies — in and around me. And solitude, it strikes me — so unwanted, so desperate, so lonely. It's all falling on me like a rubber wrap, blinding me, tying me, suffocating me, hunting me down.

But then, for a single smile of those deep curious eyes, I'd lay down my life with grace. As for that moment alone, it's worth to live and worth to die.

Family man

I don't know. I've been told zillion times to avoid doing that — but I can't help myself. She appears from nowhere, we chit-chat, drink wine, watch a movie and rather sooner than later end up in bed. And then all of a sudden, there's a relationship. I come home and she's home.

Hello!! — She's home at my home.

I guess I don't mind. I come home mainly to sleep anyway, so why bother, right? I can sleep with her. She gets me and as a bonus she can enjoy my erotic yakking and my erratic ego. And of course — she can cook and wash up, too, hopefully at least occasionally.

I also get to do whatever else partners do — one gets a vague idea from sitcoms and I learnt a thing here and there.

Generally, things like sharing a bath, seducing when not necessary, being fun and being around contribute to a good vibe. Talking late at night in bed and falling asleep while hugging do, too. Being moron and only sporadically around ain't that great. Also coming home wasted too often is not a terrific idea at all.

Thinking about it, I'm a more on a good side. I even take garbage bag with me when I leave the place. I can operate a washing machine and a microwave oven. And I can lend a helping hand even if not asked to.

Yet I still don't know. I wonder. I hesitate. I'm way too far from being sure I'm a natural-born family man.