Pip

                                                             Big Girls don’t rain yellow showers

Unrelenting light. A sweet torture for some. Living in extremes of any kind will eventually push a person to their limits. The Fins live in extremes. I waded through a sea of black to reach the sound of pounding. An agonized voice laced with beauty I thought that this young rod of testosterone would volunteer to be a sacrificial lamb. I would lay bets that if you offered him an alternative to his masochism he would simply attack you before he would consider giving up his pain. He was in a state of damaged bliss. A sea of black emanated a smell of young girls covered in yellow showers. An adolescent orgasm easily came as they watched this self-anointed martyr wallow in his own emotional defecation. Any hard-ons, naturally. The metalheads could not confess to that particular transaction but I’m sure there were too many to count. I continued walking through obsidian rivulets. He was raw this one- tats everywhere, another worldly spirit with an ability to plug in to dark and to light in equal balance. He could channel his anger. I’m the first to admit channeling my anger into something productive and not destructive is no easy task. He passed me; I stood in the doorway. He looked back and simply said, “I love you, I’ve always loved you.”  I asked an attractive blonde with freckles how she survived the winters. She said there were more suicides in Finland than I could ever imagine during the dark oppressive months. The only way I’ve learned to survive it she said is by forcing myself outside when it’s dark. The people that stay in to hide from the darkness are the ones that succumb to it. The ones that surrender to it and allow themselves to walk in it, live in it, laugh in it and more or less welcome it into their lives are the ones that survive. There is no darkness as I finish writing this. It has been a full 24 hours. Where is Santa’s furry little eye mask when you need it.