Destination Las Vegas…
They say you only die once. It seems I’ve died a thousand times over in the arms of total strangers. Ok so that song, I just died in your arms tonight comes to mind as I make my way to the minibar with some young runaway by my side.
First lets get these soaking wet clothes off. Move over Ariana. There’s a new passion angel in town…FUCK DESIRE FUCK DESTINY FUCK LOVE. I’ll take my chances on the luck of the draw. Because that’s all I’ve fucking got. What have I got to lose except maybe some much needed sleep…
Someplace between the Blue Ridge Mountains and the Mojave Desert Sunrise…I lost my heart to a runaway goddess searching for love in some roach-infested room along that Interstate of Broken Dreams. Her young tapered body pawned for some quick cash and hash to survive inner turmoil of childhood abuse. Escaping her pain with some unsafe sexual dissatisfaction with a midnight stranger. Sex is one way to forget your past, legalized pot is the other. Thanks Mr. President for not calling in the Feds to bust our ass just for a dime bag of herbal offerings to our god of decadence. You know damn well Adam and Eve smoked out in the garden and even vaped between the grapes of you know what I mean.
I remember the first time I drove ‘cross country by myself in my 2001 Honda Civic. Interstate 40 is a very scenic route between North Carolina and California. You always think once you graduate college, degree in hand, cap and gown blown to the wind…You’ve taken a break from studying. Well you might not be sitting at a desk with a balding spectacled middle-aged professor who lectures like Ben Stein, but life’s not gonna give your lazy-ass an easy A. Your ass better be great at giving head to some random geek looking like Justin Bieber’s doppelgänger or eating out an Ariana Grande wannabe Disney Club Card holding slut till she loves you fucking harder one long last time.
Your whole fucking life is a lesson in progress, the world is your snotty oyster, and not all sushi is wrapped in a tasty California roll. Some of it be as salty and contaminated as Fukushima fish or an Asian hooker in Angeles. The Philippines kicks ass over those Thai sluts in Bang my Cock anytime. Now that’s just how life is; raw and nasty on the inside even if pleasing to the eye on the outside. You can cover up any shit with some makeup and cheap mascara.
Such are these cherished moments; mostly the fucked-up ones of our lives. The yet to be written stories we’ve slept with or woken up sweating and spent in a strangers bed the morning after are the choices we decide for ourselves. So are the paths; both the congested and barren ones we trek barefoot and buck-naked on…faith be damned but blessed better to be undressed as to relieve the stress. As they say An orgasm a day keeps the doctor away. It’s true having sex is more than just a spiritual awakening, it’s like the Santa Clarita Diet, except that you are the one fucking Drew Barrymore.
“This path I’m on, you can’t see it. It’s not a yellow brick road, the lost highway, or a two-lane blacktop. And I don’t even know that its a road I’ve been traveling along until I reach my destination, look back at how far I’ve come, and realize that all this time the choices I made, the roads I took, were leading me to this place.” – Sasha Grey ‘The Juliette Society’ (2013)
So where is your place you are heading to. Or maybe you are still on your way asking yourself, screaming at yourself, Like what the fuck god, I’m a long fucking way from home. Like who are these people and why are they all trying to trip my ass up?
But at least I’m not in Kansas anymore. I hear Dorothy has eight kids now from six different daddies. Can’t really blame her when we have a President willing to fuck a whore or grab and go pussy as if its a casual handshake to negotiate trade relations.
All highways lead to our own personal hell. Blasting AC/DC while getting your dick sucked driving 70 mph down the interstate. Heaven be damned because even the Grim Reaper you know loves to jerk off to some auto erotica. So where the fuck are we going, as my mind is blown on the thrill of the release…right into her sweet holy goddess and the fact we are both stoned out of our sweat soaked bodies.
I know because it is I, not just you asking the same question. Damn voices in my head and I don’t mean the screaming orgasm that hot dog loving angelic sex fiend just had as we shot around that curve. In the end all roads lead to the same place; death. But I’m not about to sacrifice myself; my hopes, desires, or dreams, on a barren desert cross.
I’ll strip myself naked in a strangers bedroom for some cash to get a new iPhone because I’m a Millennial Starbucks Whore anyways. But I’m not ready to get fucked over; at least not just yet. Maybe on my last day I’ll skydive without a parachute, or jump naked off the Golden Gate. But until then I’ll just fuck my own damn beautiful self to the point of asphyxiation. Gotta use those ties for something. That is if I can just get one day off my fucking job. All this overtime is killing my sex life. The only good thing to come out of this…I can now pay for one of those happy endings at that Thai Massage place down the street. The one across from the church with the green neon cross.
One night in Vegas comes to mind…Hangover at the Venetian? Sounds like an Italia Flashback Gondola selfie moment!
I’ve got to get a drink in me and roll up a joint before I unleash my untamed inner tiger.
Next Chapter: the Altar of Decadence
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