a cautionary tale

i can't sleep,
i guess the three cups of espresso i drank at midnight
made the idea of a good nights sleep
just something that
other people do.

other people.
hmmm,
other people are funny.
they like to speak lies and paint pictures of themselves that
make them seem pretty.
pretty to whom, i don't know,
but pretty in their minds
as opposed to the sick fuckers they really are inside.
one of the sickest fuckers i've come across in recent years is my last ex.
this kid was one of the top 10 psychos
as well as one of the top 3 bottoms
i ever met.
he would swallow my cock in his ass faster than he'd tell me he loved me.
but tell me he loved me he did,
all too often,
and with just as much disdain in his face as he could muster.

the thing that finally ended it between us was him getting caught
in one of his typical lies,
and me,
after smoking two eight balls of crystal,
having had enough of it.
his asshole was great,
but his lies weren't.
he had told me that he wanted to be monogomous.
i think his idea of monogomy is that he gets fucked by only
one man at a time,
while the line of other men wraps around the block.

i had bought him a train ticket to come visit me while i was living upstate.
he called me a half hour before the train departed to say he was stuck in traffic,
so i told him to wait for the next train, or take a bus.
two legitimate options.
instead, i heard nothing more from him for three days.
his mother called me crying saying she hadn't heard from him in three days,
for a second, i got worried.
then, like clockwork,
three days later,
the phone rings.
"daddy?" he said"i fell asleep on the train, and when i woke up, i was in Baltimore"
i laughed hysterically because i think i actually made up that very lie
twenty years earlier.
(mind you, this boy was only 25 at the time)
i asked why he didn't call when he realized he was in Baltimore,
and the lie got deeper.
apparently, he went to call me, and take a picture of the Baltimore train station
as proof...BUT, his camera, which was on his phone,
fell out of his hand into a puddle,
rendering it useless.

whatever actually, by that time i was so through with this boy that it didn't even matter,
except that he cried and begged me to believe him, and so,
out of the goodness of my heart, and the hardon in my jeans,
i forgave him.
until, as fate would have it, i was walking up 8th avenue one week later,
and ran into one of my crystal dealers who,
out of nowhere,
told me he did me a favor last week, and took care of my boy.
what?! was my response, assuming he meant my ex i knew him through.
but alas, no...it was indeed the boy i had just forgiven,
the same boy who after he called me with the story about being stuck in traffic,
called this dealer, crying, saying we had gotten in a bad fight,
and so, he went to the dealers house,
got fucked up, and gang fucked,
by a bunch of guys at the dealers house.

i thanked my dealer, not letting him know this was the first time i was hearing about this,
and went on my way, but as soon as i turned the corner, i called chris (raucci, btw)
and told him i was well aware of his game,
it was finished,
and he was tossed out of any good grace he had with me.
and all for what?
to make me not know he was a whore?
did he think i was stupid?
or was it just that my cock was so big, it blocked any thought process to my brain.
or his asshole was so stretched,
it made the sound of his lies echo into something that sounded pretty.
either way, any good feelings i ever had about him were completely shot,
and i still continue to tell people the cautionary story of him
as a reminder to myself that sometimes even i can be fooled.
fool me once, i'm an idiot, fool me twice, i doubt it.




funny thing is, i ran into chris last week, maybe why he and his story are on my mind.
i saw him waking up 8th avenue as i was walking down, we crossed paths,
but he didn't see me...
when i saw his face wisk by me, i laughed, and turned around and followed him
grabbed his hoodie, which choked him and made him fall backwards.
it was poetic justice to see him fall almost exactly in the same spot where i saw the dealer
two years earlier...and i laughed as he shuffled to get himself off the pavement,
it was then that he started screaming at me,
saying i was an asshole.
and how i ruined his life.
funny, it was that all the things i had said or written about him
had all gotten back to him,
and he was now considered a leper in the gay community.
funny wasn't it?
but the greatest revenge i got from that night was seeing him sitting in a restaurant two hours later, crying to somebody...so i did the right thing, made sure he saw me one more time, laughing.
not with him, but at him.

the pretty ones never look as pretty in bright lights,
their luster fades
and they dim into oblivion.
remember that next time you find yourself getting deceived by someone and their pretty stories
about how wonderful they are.
pretty fades, but disgusting lasts forever.


chris raucci,
at his parents house,
in leonia new jersey

the first day i met him,
i gave him a haircut before we started shooting,
and he, withing minutes of us meeting,
was grabbing my crotch and begging me to fuck him...
i shoulda known, huh?

what an asshole...