SHE
KILLING PAIN
She walks around theVillage each night.
Steady as the earth's march around the sun and the waxing & waning of the moon.
I wonder what demons haunt HER nights, what ghosts tug at HER apron strings during the day because SHE wears a long dress all year long.
Like HER skirts, SHE wears sadness long faced.
The fabric halts HER gait at times, like a child upon a foot, it's arms wrapped around the leg.
A dirty child along the edges, frayed and worn by time as it clings to HER it's mother. A sad child, a long dead child.
SHE doesn't need to tell me because I see it in HER eyes.
I got invited to eat at HER family's house one day.
Everyone was there; thePreacherman and his wife, many drunken friends, some Village Council members, HER son & daughter's friends and lots of Village children.
For a moment I forgot about my problems and just focused on immediate things at hand.
Happiness for some is measured in how many chicken breasts are in their paper plates.
Two or three scoops of yellow potato salad. I like my salad more white because it has more mayo in it than mustard.
Chicken wings, corn on the cob, cake and tossed salad.
Ranch dressing on top and croutons. There should be a salad dressing called 'Village dressing'. The logo would be a quaint arial view of theVillage.
One of HER brothers is at theTable suckling on some fat butter-stick sized pieces of whale fat. I politely decline theNative delicacy and after filling up my plate with small scoops of various dishes I go outside to eat.
I go sit on the grass by theToddlers at play.
They don't know me but they know the colors of the Uniform.
As I haven't been the first Officer in theVillage to wear theBrown Sacred colors.
The dark brown of my outer ballistic vest pleases their childish curiosity and the weapons & equipment stuffed into theVest pockets and upon my belt attract them closer to me.
Soon I have a few Micro Cars and a Lego piece in my Moose soup! Later that night when I fumble for a pen to write with I discover a smear of chocolate cake frosting on the flap pocket that covers my Taser electronic weapon.
Young teen mama smiles at me, embarrassed at her children's behavior she stops nibbling her chicken, puts her food down and kneels up from the grass, sways over to me on her knees and grabs theLittle girl from off my leg.
She turns around and sways away holding her precious girl. The child's coal black eyes peek over mama's shoulder at me and she smiles.
Such friendliness is cuter than anything warm and fuzzy that I've ever known in my life.
Another young mother & daddy beckon their little boy away from me as well.
I'm in my duty uniform and it seems that theVillage girl's also have theirs. They wear T-shirt's, jeans, slip-on sandals or low heel shoes.
The Village girls all wear the same colors, the same styles and even wear their long hair in loose pony tails or french twisted upon their heads. Perhaps one of my old Navy Bootcamp Company Commanders called theVillage before I arrived and spoke harshly to theCouncil growling-"uniformity will prevail!"
Most of the young girls have tattoos on the low back, an upper shoulder, and upper arms too. Everyone can afford to buy cigarettes and alcohol and put gas in the car but no one has enough $ to get what they really want or what they need in life.
I use the bathroom in theHouse before leaving. SHE points me in the right direction with HER lips as SHE stirs the simmering pots on the stove.
I feel sadness envelope me as I step further back into the cookie cutter HUD home.
It's a dark empty feeling much like stepping from a warm environment out into the bitter cold. It demoralizes, the change is so obvious.
I pee, wash my hands in cold water-as there's no hot water and I leave the birthday party.
It's time to relax for a few hours before I hit theVillage and patrol all night.
Just a few hours after midnight I drive through theVillage and glimpse HER again.
Walking head down, only SHE staggers a bit. SHE hits the old school trail that cuts over 1/4mile onto the 2nd street. TheVillage is so spread out in places and crammed together in other spots.
Steady like clockwork SHE is.
It's only months later that I realize that SHE and I are dancing around each other.
SHE in her bouts of drinking is sizing me up and planning HER next moves.
Like boxers in a ring we hop and feint. We step in and back from each other.
Then suddenly one of us strikes.
I go back to HER house one day. It's noon. HER children are in school and HER daughter's are out of theVillage.
Blood upon theWalls of HER bedroom, blood upon the bedsheets, endless blood.
I smelled it in the air when I first entered theHouse and I followed the scent down the long dark hallway towards the back rooms.
SHE lies next to theBed on the floor. SHE softly cries, wiping away tears.
I check HER from head to toe. Nothing broken internally.
One of HER son's did this. They fought a few hours ago and he punched HER in theFace.
All that blood from HER nose.
My days and nights in theVillage are endless Domestic event calls. Violent assaults all fueled by pot and alcohol.
Just as SHE is warm and soft, living and breathing. The demons that alcohol & drugs spawn also live and breathe. I can feel them all around. I can feel their eyes upon me as I go to and fro in theVillage.
Every house is like HER's. Each Family has it's ghosts and each family member's life is forever touched by tragedy in theVillage.
It could have been yesterday or 50yrs ago.
It could have happened to one person or to Everyone at the same time.
It's pain and everyone drinks to kill it.
A friend of mine in grade-school once told me,
"It smothers the taste". when I asked him why he doused his lunch food in ketchup.
Everyone in theVillage including HER, all tell me the same thing regarding alcohol.
It kills the pain.
++++++
SILENT SCREAMS
[Rob Halford, Live! Insurrection CD]
-Look at me I'm chasing
After dreams left in the storm.
What I am is all that
Really matters now
The lies are gone. (4x)
Tempting fate and losing
Friends along the way I loved.
No regrets I'm standing
With a needle in my heart.(4x)
You'll never know.
My life means everything.
Still I scream because
There's nothing left to do until the end.
The world goes on.
With all that i've become.
And still I scream inside
Though all the pain i've taken
Hasn't changed.
-Nothing's changed at all
The truth is like a chain.
Heaven's calling me
The place where I belong.
Killing pain (4x)
-Close my eyes a million faces
Get inside my mind.
Take a breath and fill my troubled
Soul with all mankind.
Killing pain (4x)
-The man in black
I'm coming back
To spew my evil hate.
My crown of horns
And bloody thorns
I dig up what you fear.
I am the shape
That's in your room
That watches over you.
I am the needle
In your heart,
You're disillusioned god.
I am god
I am fate
I am all the things you make.
Yeah.
Hate.
I am black
I am white
I'm the blood upon the knife.
Yeah.
Hate.
Since time began I made a vow
To drag you underground.
To steal your soul of purity
And watch you waste away.
I am pure
I am right
I'm the god that makes you fight.
Yeah.
Hate.
I am life
I am death
I will steal your final breath.
Yeah.
Hate.
I prey upon your broken dreams
Your weakness gives me strength.
I'm laughing at your silent screams
I'll crush you with my hate.
Yeah. (4x)
-You face it all
And face the fear that's here.
Until the silent screams
Leaves you with no choice to carry on.
You'll never fall
When all is said and done.
The only scream is here
The journey never ends
It's just begun.
The lies that never learn.
The needle's in my heart.
And things will never change.
So every time I scream I'm killing pain
Rob Halford
++++++
SKIN DEEP
SHE waits for me on theMassage table inside my office.
I can hear HER breathe and sense HER calm demeanor as SHE waits for me to join HER.
I am on theOutside of the building and I can't get in.
I look for a way to get inside and circle the building.
I am dreaming this same dream and this recent dream I keep having is like my first experiences in life long ago when I was a Toddler.
In childhood before I first started to understand the concept of a door.
I knew that people went into buildings and rooms but I didn't exactly know how to do it myself. Had one time wandered around and around outside our small house in South Dakota trying to get inside and I couldn't.
So I kept walking and clamoring at the plastic covered doors and windows until Mama's comforting arms scooped me up and I was safe once again.
But this time SHE waits for me inside the building when ever I dream of HER-my friend. SHE's a white woman of European descent. The kind of shapely woman that you see on tv or in the printed media with a face and body that you envy.
SHE's beautiful. A goddess with long brown locks colored golden blonde and HER "white fat" is brown due to frequent tanning salon visits, those were HER words not mine!
As big as I am in real life, SHE's bigger than me, only a few inches shorter.
I can still smell HER hair, HER skin, HER expensive perfume SHE wore.
I can still taste HER lips, HER mouth, HER tongue, HER clean skin.
I can still feel HER arms around me, HER legs around mine. I miss HER.
I used to massage HER alot and would also work on HER hair and especially HER makeup.
SHE taught me to paint HER round face-although I like to call it oval.
The beauty rags and school books call theOval face the desirable shape because it goes with everything. And for a few years, that face and body went with ME.
Sometimes I'd joke with HER and save the face-cradle covers intact so I could "put HER face back on" after a massage.
When SHE'd get stern with me or upset SHE'd clamp those pink lips together and those dazzling green eyes would smolder. SHE really didn't need makeup but wore it anyway.
SHE didn't really need clothes either! but SHE wore them too.
SHE earned my trust and I obviously had HER's over the few short years we've known each other.
I tried to balance school and making a living as a Cosmetologist all on my own and didn't do so well. Rare is theWoman that will be your friend and want to be with you when you are in poverty's vale and have no $, trinkets or baubles to give.
But SHE helped me when I allowed. I wanted to be the man for HER that would also have an income. SHE at least deserved that much. And in the end SHE got what SHE wanted at my expense.
In my Dreams I have regarding HER, I still try to get inside the building where I rented an office space for Massage and would invite HER there frequently.
Finally I get inside the building and I move down the hall.
I see the other business office ladies that used to work around me.
The Real Estate brokerage, the Escrow Holdings agents, the Children's art gallery upstairs and the Chiropractors office as well. But they don't see me walk by.
Other times when I have this Dream all the Office workers are looking at me with smiles on their faces. I get a thumbs up from a few and all of them wave at me.
Like they're all party to some big secret that I'm about to discover.
I approach my Office and enter.
I see that my school certifications are hung proudly upon the walls.
My Pre-Natal and other Pregnancy Massage certificates are also posted alongside some home-made Cards and Letters from many of my female clients & their children.
My small bookcase holds all 50+ school books and additional titles I purchased that tell the world, "A massage therapist works here!"
A few photos of my family are propped up against the books on the shelves, I haven't seen my family in almost 10yrs since I left for theMilitary and then got out and moved to Seattle. I need to go see them soon-I tell myself.
I have some free weights stashed in the corner behind a stand-up dressing blind I made from wood framing and cloth. I use the free weights as well for MY stress relief.
I lock my office front door and proceed to the back room.
I enter there in and SHE lies there on HER back, completely nude under a small fluffy towel.
The lights are dimmed, the massage music plays softly.
The room is warm. Everything is perfect.
My tubs of hair removal wax are plugged in and warmed up.
My small electric blanket that SHE lies on top of is plugged in and warm.
I hunted around once for information from the state licensing bureaus.
I'm told that as long as I keep my Esthetician activities and income under 50% that I can do the Skincare services under my Cosmetology license.
So I do hair and massage as the main services and only do related skincare as complimentary work.
SHE's restless in anticipation for my skincare work that I'll perform.
SHE's warm and receptive as SHE starts talking to me, how I love HER voice.
HER work days are full of stress but it only shows in taut muscles that I massage.
Seeing that the hot wax cart and other tools are ready I begin my work.
I move the fluffy towel up onto HER abdomen and putting my hands under HER knees I lift those shapely golden legs.
HER knees bend and I press them up to HER breasts.
I put one of my knee's up on the table and reach across HER with an arm.
I kneel & leaning over HER while HER legs drape my shoulder and back.
Bikini waxes are very intimate services.
SHE sucks in HER breath sharply at the coolness of the antiseptic cleanser upon HER golden-downed labial folds of skin and to HER bottom. SHE grips my arm with both hands.
As I work, first I apply the cleanser, then dry the skin. Then apply the hard wax in sections and wait a minute or less and quickly strip away hair from HER skin. After I'm finished I lightly oil the freshly waxed areas.
With HER knees to HER breasts SHE asks me how I'm doing?
"I'm ok" I reply.
Spreading one side of HER lips and applying a layer of hard wax to the soft hairs.
As the wax strip cools I rest a hand on HER butt and look down into HER friendly eyes, those dreamy eyes that close contentedly when SHE's happy.
I finish the work on HER labia, and clean up HER mons pubis-leave a small strip of hair on top. Then I finish removing the anal hair and clean up HER skin before touching-up Under HER arms and checking HER face and neckline.
Then the long luxerious body massage begins upon HER.
I remember HER body still. I remember every muscle fiber, every cushy curve and hard tendon & bone.
I can remember everyone of my female clients that I worked on long ago.
When you put your heart and soul into the work like I did you tend to remember even the small details.
SHE seems to know where I am and what I do now in theVillage.
And when I dream this same dream over and over again we never speak of thePast.
We never talk of HER betrayal of my trust and friendship.
We never speak of the dreams and hopes we shared. To do so would bring about so much Pain that I have put away inside.
Such things I keep locked away and I only bring them out during my Strong moments each day and I look at these things objectively-without emotion.
A stubborn part of me prides myself on my pain. It lets me know that I am alive. That I have worth in the eyes of God and that my Life is being tested & directed along the Paths that I need to go in order to be the person that God knows I can be in the Eternities.
In the end, all I wanted was for HER to be happy. I want all of HER hopes and dreams to come true. I want for HER to be the best person that SHE can be where ever SHE is and to never stop growing & learning. I want HER progression to be Eternal.
When I did abdominal work on HER and went 2, 3, 4" deep I could feel HER organs and the deeper muscles. And just below HER belly button, just a skosh above HER pubis I could barely palpate two small marble sized tissue.
Indeed I had the Whole world in my hands when SHE was in my care on the massage table. And later on with some Advanced female anatomical study and classes I got to go even deeper into HER body. Could palpate the Uterus and Vagina. And palpate HER clean rectum and feel the pelvic girdle from the inside.
Because such work exists in Massage therapy of Breastwork and Vaginal & Sacral. It's not sexual work either. You have to be therapy minded and always be looking for new approaches to body work. But such work isn't for every practitioner and it isn't for every client either.
That's why I'm so proud of my previous experiences in Life.
I've done a little and I've done a LOT here and there. And some things I can only touch upon with these writings. My brief intense years as Cosmetologist and Massage Therapist were great.
From those many years of just Massaging people I read so much unspoken information from when I do touch someone else. That's why I was so effective in theVillage. Because I knew who was in pain the most from their drinking and drugs and from their own past.
You have to go thousands of miles in order to travel-just a few miles ahead. If you know what that means. You have to learn more, do more and push yourself more in order to effectively-do a little.
I'm glad that my life didn't turn out to be boring and predictable with 9-5 work and settling down right after high school. I went on to explore the world around me and yet kept my own self in line with understanding my own appetites and wants.
My Friend and others like HER are still with me, they're close at hand.
The memories of them are first awakened by Touch. Then Smell, then Sound, Sight and Taste. And I'm glad that such close, intimate memories with my Friend's are Clean and Beautiful.
I'm not bothered when other men hoot and holler at women. That type of man can stomp and posture all he wants to make himself feel important. And that type of man can brag all he wants of his dealings with women.
It doesn't bother me (as much as it used to) that I'm alone right now Wifeless & Childless. Because I was a friend of Womankind and had intimate hard earned dealings with them on spiritual and emotional levels.
And that's not something theBoys at theBar or Clubs could ever understand no matter how long they've been married or no matter how many women they've bedded.
Not even the hired Killers in this world understand these things with all the training they do and the mindset they put themselves in when THEY deal with people.
And I know I'm not alone in these precious experiences and insight, for each profession and calling has it's chosen few the world over that go farther than the rest of the herd.
All this began for me when I was a child. My life path began very early for me, I was mature before I was 10. At 16 I was 30. At 20 I was 50 and now? At 38 I'm past 100.
I don't sleep much at night. I'm half-way into subconscious mostly. But the true deep sleep only comes once every other month or so. And like restful sleep so too comes the occasional brush against something or the touching upon my other senses in the day-time and I remember HER.
Women had the upper hand in shaping my life, my character my future.
In that regard, when a soft Touch awakens a memory, to me Beauty is indeed Skin Deep.
+++++
Author's Note:
A friend once asked me if these Alaska experiences are true?
If theVillage life is so dangerous at times and so boring? Yes it is.
I've been told that Violence is random, it can happen anywhere at any time to anyone. And on that note, so too can kindness happen. It's random.
You can plan to hug someone coming in the door after they've been gone all day but when they show up, the feeling just goes away and everyone is sour the rest of the day.
Other times you just hug a loved on or reach out and embrace that beautiful face of the young teen girl that everyone talks about and you just make her day by being kind to her.
When things happen they happen for an obvious reason, whether they're big events or small personal ones.
Yes these experiences are true.
I've lived them and I've recorded them in my Trooper Notebooks given to me by theState and I've recorded them in other journals.
All these things I touch upon-whether they "happened" in theVillage or from Seattle or from elsewhere in my Life,-happened in some shape or form in real life.
I experienced them. I was there. I saw. I was affected by it, I pondered it and asked what does this hold for the future?
What does a garbage bag fluttering by in the summer wind and getting stuck in theWoods at the end of theVillage to flutter in the weeds 3 weeks have to do with
Your Village Called!!? Everything.
We live our lives and shape Not only Our own, but our Children's futures as well.
What we do affects untold millions and what Others did ages ago affects us today.
My life has Everything and Nothing! to do with YVC Inc (doh!!)
But these things are true.
And for now most events and identities of people from theVillage are changed. They are added unto or deleted to protect the very people I write about.
But I will say, that 5yrs from the date I write something down in my Journals, the Alaska statutes end regarding mandatory possession of public records. Especially if I have had public dealings with individuals, entities, organizations, hostile angry Village mobs or a yard full of slobbery sled-dogs.
Especially in my dealings regarding Public Safety.
Then I am bound for 5 yrs from date of writing to keep such records.
After that I can destroy them, move them to theOuthouse for recycling or just keep them in storage.
As for some people that need the exposure-if their activities warrant such actions.
I will be posting a real life name, and I will not hide their personalities in my future writings regardless of when such events took place.
Because some people and organizations I have met here in Alaska are just plain dirty and the world needs to know about them.
Some of these future writings are of racist school teachers and the districts that employ them.
Some tales will be of Alaska State Trooper leadership & a few Officers that need to go to prison or better yet, they need to eat their service weapons & pull the trigger in public for what they do to the citizens of Alaska-especially to their Charges out in theVillages much like the Villages I served in and now reside in.
Some of these writings will be on theNatives themselves that practice Racism against their own Native peoples. Of the nepotism that is rampant in each Village Council & each village throughout theState of Alaska. These people fight off help from the Outside and from within their own ranks and squander the federal and state dollars given to them.
Alcohol and drugs, sex abuse & sex crimes, various assaults and child abuse & neglect of theElders are just the surface of problems that run through theState's Native Villages from Nome to Barrow, to Juneau. And though I can't solve these myriad of problems for everyone. I can fight these things that exist here in my Village where I live.
No. I don't respect people that prey upon the weaknesses and misery of others. And if I write about any such people I will name them publicly regardless of the Statutes that bind my writings from Public dealings.
So yes, these things are true.
I couldn't make any of this stuff up in a million years.
My God has seen fit to send me to the ends of the Earth, and out to theEnd of theRoad here in Alaska.
He prepared me for a reason. And He keeps adversity in my life to remind me of Who I am in an Eternal perspective.
As much as I inwardly rant against my alleged problems in life I am really happy to be where I am today.
I am strong, I am loved and admired, more people respect me and look up to me than I'll ever know.
I belong HERE. I can handle this. I live by these words and stand by them.
I hope that You people that read this can say the same things about yourselves.
Peace.
Samuel L Flyinghorse
High school graduate
LDS (mormon) Returned Missionary
College Art major
Licensed Cosmetologist
Navy Parachute Rigger
Licensed Massage Practitioner
Childcare/Nanny
Alaska Village Public Safety Officer
Private Security Officer
Author
She walks around theVillage each night.
Steady as the earth's march around the sun and the waxing & waning of the moon.
I wonder what demons haunt HER nights, what ghosts tug at HER apron strings during the day because SHE wears a long dress all year long.
Like HER skirts, SHE wears sadness long faced.
The fabric halts HER gait at times, like a child upon a foot, it's arms wrapped around the leg.
A dirty child along the edges, frayed and worn by time as it clings to HER it's mother. A sad child, a long dead child.
SHE doesn't need to tell me because I see it in HER eyes.
I got invited to eat at HER family's house one day.
Everyone was there; thePreacherman and his wife, many drunken friends, some Village Council members, HER son & daughter's friends and lots of Village children.
For a moment I forgot about my problems and just focused on immediate things at hand.
Happiness for some is measured in how many chicken breasts are in their paper plates.
Two or three scoops of yellow potato salad. I like my salad more white because it has more mayo in it than mustard.
Chicken wings, corn on the cob, cake and tossed salad.
Ranch dressing on top and croutons. There should be a salad dressing called 'Village dressing'. The logo would be a quaint arial view of theVillage.
One of HER brothers is at theTable suckling on some fat butter-stick sized pieces of whale fat. I politely decline theNative delicacy and after filling up my plate with small scoops of various dishes I go outside to eat.
I go sit on the grass by theToddlers at play.
They don't know me but they know the colors of the Uniform.
As I haven't been the first Officer in theVillage to wear theBrown Sacred colors.
The dark brown of my outer ballistic vest pleases their childish curiosity and the weapons & equipment stuffed into theVest pockets and upon my belt attract them closer to me.
Soon I have a few Micro Cars and a Lego piece in my Moose soup! Later that night when I fumble for a pen to write with I discover a smear of chocolate cake frosting on the flap pocket that covers my Taser electronic weapon.
Young teen mama smiles at me, embarrassed at her children's behavior she stops nibbling her chicken, puts her food down and kneels up from the grass, sways over to me on her knees and grabs theLittle girl from off my leg.
She turns around and sways away holding her precious girl. The child's coal black eyes peek over mama's shoulder at me and she smiles.
Such friendliness is cuter than anything warm and fuzzy that I've ever known in my life.
Another young mother & daddy beckon their little boy away from me as well.
I'm in my duty uniform and it seems that theVillage girl's also have theirs. They wear T-shirt's, jeans, slip-on sandals or low heel shoes.
The Village girls all wear the same colors, the same styles and even wear their long hair in loose pony tails or french twisted upon their heads. Perhaps one of my old Navy Bootcamp Company Commanders called theVillage before I arrived and spoke harshly to theCouncil growling-"uniformity will prevail!"
Most of the young girls have tattoos on the low back, an upper shoulder, and upper arms too. Everyone can afford to buy cigarettes and alcohol and put gas in the car but no one has enough $ to get what they really want or what they need in life.
I use the bathroom in theHouse before leaving. SHE points me in the right direction with HER lips as SHE stirs the simmering pots on the stove.
I feel sadness envelope me as I step further back into the cookie cutter HUD home.
It's a dark empty feeling much like stepping from a warm environment out into the bitter cold. It demoralizes, the change is so obvious.
I pee, wash my hands in cold water-as there's no hot water and I leave the birthday party.
It's time to relax for a few hours before I hit theVillage and patrol all night.
Just a few hours after midnight I drive through theVillage and glimpse HER again.
Walking head down, only SHE staggers a bit. SHE hits the old school trail that cuts over 1/4mile onto the 2nd street. TheVillage is so spread out in places and crammed together in other spots.
Steady like clockwork SHE is.
It's only months later that I realize that SHE and I are dancing around each other.
SHE in her bouts of drinking is sizing me up and planning HER next moves.
Like boxers in a ring we hop and feint. We step in and back from each other.
Then suddenly one of us strikes.
I go back to HER house one day. It's noon. HER children are in school and HER daughter's are out of theVillage.
Blood upon theWalls of HER bedroom, blood upon the bedsheets, endless blood.
I smelled it in the air when I first entered theHouse and I followed the scent down the long dark hallway towards the back rooms.
SHE lies next to theBed on the floor. SHE softly cries, wiping away tears.
I check HER from head to toe. Nothing broken internally.
One of HER son's did this. They fought a few hours ago and he punched HER in theFace.
All that blood from HER nose.
My days and nights in theVillage are endless Domestic event calls. Violent assaults all fueled by pot and alcohol.
Just as SHE is warm and soft, living and breathing. The demons that alcohol & drugs spawn also live and breathe. I can feel them all around. I can feel their eyes upon me as I go to and fro in theVillage.
Every house is like HER's. Each Family has it's ghosts and each family member's life is forever touched by tragedy in theVillage.
It could have been yesterday or 50yrs ago.
It could have happened to one person or to Everyone at the same time.
It's pain and everyone drinks to kill it.
A friend of mine in grade-school once told me,
"It smothers the taste". when I asked him why he doused his lunch food in ketchup.
Everyone in theVillage including HER, all tell me the same thing regarding alcohol.
It kills the pain.
++++++
SILENT SCREAMS
[Rob Halford, Live! Insurrection CD]
-Look at me I'm chasing
After dreams left in the storm.
What I am is all that
Really matters now
The lies are gone. (4x)
Tempting fate and losing
Friends along the way I loved.
No regrets I'm standing
With a needle in my heart.(4x)
You'll never know.
My life means everything.
Still I scream because
There's nothing left to do until the end.
The world goes on.
With all that i've become.
And still I scream inside
Though all the pain i've taken
Hasn't changed.
-Nothing's changed at all
The truth is like a chain.
Heaven's calling me
The place where I belong.
Killing pain (4x)
-Close my eyes a million faces
Get inside my mind.
Take a breath and fill my troubled
Soul with all mankind.
Killing pain (4x)
-The man in black
I'm coming back
To spew my evil hate.
My crown of horns
And bloody thorns
I dig up what you fear.
I am the shape
That's in your room
That watches over you.
I am the needle
In your heart,
You're disillusioned god.
I am god
I am fate
I am all the things you make.
Yeah.
Hate.
I am black
I am white
I'm the blood upon the knife.
Yeah.
Hate.
Since time began I made a vow
To drag you underground.
To steal your soul of purity
And watch you waste away.
I am pure
I am right
I'm the god that makes you fight.
Yeah.
Hate.
I am life
I am death
I will steal your final breath.
Yeah.
Hate.
I prey upon your broken dreams
Your weakness gives me strength.
I'm laughing at your silent screams
I'll crush you with my hate.
Yeah. (4x)
-You face it all
And face the fear that's here.
Until the silent screams
Leaves you with no choice to carry on.
You'll never fall
When all is said and done.
The only scream is here
The journey never ends
It's just begun.
The lies that never learn.
The needle's in my heart.
And things will never change.
So every time I scream I'm killing pain
Rob Halford
++++++
SKIN DEEP
SHE waits for me on theMassage table inside my office.
I can hear HER breathe and sense HER calm demeanor as SHE waits for me to join HER.
I am on theOutside of the building and I can't get in.
I look for a way to get inside and circle the building.
I am dreaming this same dream and this recent dream I keep having is like my first experiences in life long ago when I was a Toddler.
In childhood before I first started to understand the concept of a door.
I knew that people went into buildings and rooms but I didn't exactly know how to do it myself. Had one time wandered around and around outside our small house in South Dakota trying to get inside and I couldn't.
So I kept walking and clamoring at the plastic covered doors and windows until Mama's comforting arms scooped me up and I was safe once again.
But this time SHE waits for me inside the building when ever I dream of HER-my friend. SHE's a white woman of European descent. The kind of shapely woman that you see on tv or in the printed media with a face and body that you envy.
SHE's beautiful. A goddess with long brown locks colored golden blonde and HER "white fat" is brown due to frequent tanning salon visits, those were HER words not mine!
As big as I am in real life, SHE's bigger than me, only a few inches shorter.
I can still smell HER hair, HER skin, HER expensive perfume SHE wore.
I can still taste HER lips, HER mouth, HER tongue, HER clean skin.
I can still feel HER arms around me, HER legs around mine. I miss HER.
I used to massage HER alot and would also work on HER hair and especially HER makeup.
SHE taught me to paint HER round face-although I like to call it oval.
The beauty rags and school books call theOval face the desirable shape because it goes with everything. And for a few years, that face and body went with ME.
Sometimes I'd joke with HER and save the face-cradle covers intact so I could "put HER face back on" after a massage.
When SHE'd get stern with me or upset SHE'd clamp those pink lips together and those dazzling green eyes would smolder. SHE really didn't need makeup but wore it anyway.
SHE didn't really need clothes either! but SHE wore them too.
SHE earned my trust and I obviously had HER's over the few short years we've known each other.
I tried to balance school and making a living as a Cosmetologist all on my own and didn't do so well. Rare is theWoman that will be your friend and want to be with you when you are in poverty's vale and have no $, trinkets or baubles to give.
But SHE helped me when I allowed. I wanted to be the man for HER that would also have an income. SHE at least deserved that much. And in the end SHE got what SHE wanted at my expense.
In my Dreams I have regarding HER, I still try to get inside the building where I rented an office space for Massage and would invite HER there frequently.
Finally I get inside the building and I move down the hall.
I see the other business office ladies that used to work around me.
The Real Estate brokerage, the Escrow Holdings agents, the Children's art gallery upstairs and the Chiropractors office as well. But they don't see me walk by.
Other times when I have this Dream all the Office workers are looking at me with smiles on their faces. I get a thumbs up from a few and all of them wave at me.
Like they're all party to some big secret that I'm about to discover.
I approach my Office and enter.
I see that my school certifications are hung proudly upon the walls.
My Pre-Natal and other Pregnancy Massage certificates are also posted alongside some home-made Cards and Letters from many of my female clients & their children.
My small bookcase holds all 50+ school books and additional titles I purchased that tell the world, "A massage therapist works here!"
A few photos of my family are propped up against the books on the shelves, I haven't seen my family in almost 10yrs since I left for theMilitary and then got out and moved to Seattle. I need to go see them soon-I tell myself.
I have some free weights stashed in the corner behind a stand-up dressing blind I made from wood framing and cloth. I use the free weights as well for MY stress relief.
I lock my office front door and proceed to the back room.
I enter there in and SHE lies there on HER back, completely nude under a small fluffy towel.
The lights are dimmed, the massage music plays softly.
The room is warm. Everything is perfect.
My tubs of hair removal wax are plugged in and warmed up.
My small electric blanket that SHE lies on top of is plugged in and warm.
I hunted around once for information from the state licensing bureaus.
I'm told that as long as I keep my Esthetician activities and income under 50% that I can do the Skincare services under my Cosmetology license.
So I do hair and massage as the main services and only do related skincare as complimentary work.
SHE's restless in anticipation for my skincare work that I'll perform.
SHE's warm and receptive as SHE starts talking to me, how I love HER voice.
HER work days are full of stress but it only shows in taut muscles that I massage.
Seeing that the hot wax cart and other tools are ready I begin my work.
I move the fluffy towel up onto HER abdomen and putting my hands under HER knees I lift those shapely golden legs.
HER knees bend and I press them up to HER breasts.
I put one of my knee's up on the table and reach across HER with an arm.
I kneel & leaning over HER while HER legs drape my shoulder and back.
Bikini waxes are very intimate services.
SHE sucks in HER breath sharply at the coolness of the antiseptic cleanser upon HER golden-downed labial folds of skin and to HER bottom. SHE grips my arm with both hands.
As I work, first I apply the cleanser, then dry the skin. Then apply the hard wax in sections and wait a minute or less and quickly strip away hair from HER skin. After I'm finished I lightly oil the freshly waxed areas.
With HER knees to HER breasts SHE asks me how I'm doing?
"I'm ok" I reply.
Spreading one side of HER lips and applying a layer of hard wax to the soft hairs.
As the wax strip cools I rest a hand on HER butt and look down into HER friendly eyes, those dreamy eyes that close contentedly when SHE's happy.
I finish the work on HER labia, and clean up HER mons pubis-leave a small strip of hair on top. Then I finish removing the anal hair and clean up HER skin before touching-up Under HER arms and checking HER face and neckline.
Then the long luxerious body massage begins upon HER.
I remember HER body still. I remember every muscle fiber, every cushy curve and hard tendon & bone.
I can remember everyone of my female clients that I worked on long ago.
When you put your heart and soul into the work like I did you tend to remember even the small details.
SHE seems to know where I am and what I do now in theVillage.
And when I dream this same dream over and over again we never speak of thePast.
We never talk of HER betrayal of my trust and friendship.
We never speak of the dreams and hopes we shared. To do so would bring about so much Pain that I have put away inside.
Such things I keep locked away and I only bring them out during my Strong moments each day and I look at these things objectively-without emotion.
A stubborn part of me prides myself on my pain. It lets me know that I am alive. That I have worth in the eyes of God and that my Life is being tested & directed along the Paths that I need to go in order to be the person that God knows I can be in the Eternities.
In the end, all I wanted was for HER to be happy. I want all of HER hopes and dreams to come true. I want for HER to be the best person that SHE can be where ever SHE is and to never stop growing & learning. I want HER progression to be Eternal.
When I did abdominal work on HER and went 2, 3, 4" deep I could feel HER organs and the deeper muscles. And just below HER belly button, just a skosh above HER pubis I could barely palpate two small marble sized tissue.
Indeed I had the Whole world in my hands when SHE was in my care on the massage table. And later on with some Advanced female anatomical study and classes I got to go even deeper into HER body. Could palpate the Uterus and Vagina. And palpate HER clean rectum and feel the pelvic girdle from the inside.
Because such work exists in Massage therapy of Breastwork and Vaginal & Sacral. It's not sexual work either. You have to be therapy minded and always be looking for new approaches to body work. But such work isn't for every practitioner and it isn't for every client either.
That's why I'm so proud of my previous experiences in Life.
I've done a little and I've done a LOT here and there. And some things I can only touch upon with these writings. My brief intense years as Cosmetologist and Massage Therapist were great.
From those many years of just Massaging people I read so much unspoken information from when I do touch someone else. That's why I was so effective in theVillage. Because I knew who was in pain the most from their drinking and drugs and from their own past.
You have to go thousands of miles in order to travel-just a few miles ahead. If you know what that means. You have to learn more, do more and push yourself more in order to effectively-do a little.
I'm glad that my life didn't turn out to be boring and predictable with 9-5 work and settling down right after high school. I went on to explore the world around me and yet kept my own self in line with understanding my own appetites and wants.
My Friend and others like HER are still with me, they're close at hand.
The memories of them are first awakened by Touch. Then Smell, then Sound, Sight and Taste. And I'm glad that such close, intimate memories with my Friend's are Clean and Beautiful.
I'm not bothered when other men hoot and holler at women. That type of man can stomp and posture all he wants to make himself feel important. And that type of man can brag all he wants of his dealings with women.
It doesn't bother me (as much as it used to) that I'm alone right now Wifeless & Childless. Because I was a friend of Womankind and had intimate hard earned dealings with them on spiritual and emotional levels.
And that's not something theBoys at theBar or Clubs could ever understand no matter how long they've been married or no matter how many women they've bedded.
Not even the hired Killers in this world understand these things with all the training they do and the mindset they put themselves in when THEY deal with people.
And I know I'm not alone in these precious experiences and insight, for each profession and calling has it's chosen few the world over that go farther than the rest of the herd.
All this began for me when I was a child. My life path began very early for me, I was mature before I was 10. At 16 I was 30. At 20 I was 50 and now? At 38 I'm past 100.
I don't sleep much at night. I'm half-way into subconscious mostly. But the true deep sleep only comes once every other month or so. And like restful sleep so too comes the occasional brush against something or the touching upon my other senses in the day-time and I remember HER.
Women had the upper hand in shaping my life, my character my future.
In that regard, when a soft Touch awakens a memory, to me Beauty is indeed Skin Deep.
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Author's Note:
A friend once asked me if these Alaska experiences are true?
If theVillage life is so dangerous at times and so boring? Yes it is.
I've been told that Violence is random, it can happen anywhere at any time to anyone. And on that note, so too can kindness happen. It's random.
You can plan to hug someone coming in the door after they've been gone all day but when they show up, the feeling just goes away and everyone is sour the rest of the day.
Other times you just hug a loved on or reach out and embrace that beautiful face of the young teen girl that everyone talks about and you just make her day by being kind to her.
When things happen they happen for an obvious reason, whether they're big events or small personal ones.
Yes these experiences are true.
I've lived them and I've recorded them in my Trooper Notebooks given to me by theState and I've recorded them in other journals.
All these things I touch upon-whether they "happened" in theVillage or from Seattle or from elsewhere in my Life,-happened in some shape or form in real life.
I experienced them. I was there. I saw. I was affected by it, I pondered it and asked what does this hold for the future?
What does a garbage bag fluttering by in the summer wind and getting stuck in theWoods at the end of theVillage to flutter in the weeds 3 weeks have to do with
Your Village Called!!? Everything.
We live our lives and shape Not only Our own, but our Children's futures as well.
What we do affects untold millions and what Others did ages ago affects us today.
My life has Everything and Nothing! to do with YVC Inc (doh!!)
But these things are true.
And for now most events and identities of people from theVillage are changed. They are added unto or deleted to protect the very people I write about.
But I will say, that 5yrs from the date I write something down in my Journals, the Alaska statutes end regarding mandatory possession of public records. Especially if I have had public dealings with individuals, entities, organizations, hostile angry Village mobs or a yard full of slobbery sled-dogs.
Especially in my dealings regarding Public Safety.
Then I am bound for 5 yrs from date of writing to keep such records.
After that I can destroy them, move them to theOuthouse for recycling or just keep them in storage.
As for some people that need the exposure-if their activities warrant such actions.
I will be posting a real life name, and I will not hide their personalities in my future writings regardless of when such events took place.
Because some people and organizations I have met here in Alaska are just plain dirty and the world needs to know about them.
Some of these future writings are of racist school teachers and the districts that employ them.
Some tales will be of Alaska State Trooper leadership & a few Officers that need to go to prison or better yet, they need to eat their service weapons & pull the trigger in public for what they do to the citizens of Alaska-especially to their Charges out in theVillages much like the Villages I served in and now reside in.
Some of these writings will be on theNatives themselves that practice Racism against their own Native peoples. Of the nepotism that is rampant in each Village Council & each village throughout theState of Alaska. These people fight off help from the Outside and from within their own ranks and squander the federal and state dollars given to them.
Alcohol and drugs, sex abuse & sex crimes, various assaults and child abuse & neglect of theElders are just the surface of problems that run through theState's Native Villages from Nome to Barrow, to Juneau. And though I can't solve these myriad of problems for everyone. I can fight these things that exist here in my Village where I live.
No. I don't respect people that prey upon the weaknesses and misery of others. And if I write about any such people I will name them publicly regardless of the Statutes that bind my writings from Public dealings.
So yes, these things are true.
I couldn't make any of this stuff up in a million years.
My God has seen fit to send me to the ends of the Earth, and out to theEnd of theRoad here in Alaska.
He prepared me for a reason. And He keeps adversity in my life to remind me of Who I am in an Eternal perspective.
As much as I inwardly rant against my alleged problems in life I am really happy to be where I am today.
I am strong, I am loved and admired, more people respect me and look up to me than I'll ever know.
I belong HERE. I can handle this. I live by these words and stand by them.
I hope that You people that read this can say the same things about yourselves.
Peace.
Samuel L Flyinghorse
High school graduate
LDS (mormon) Returned Missionary
College Art major
Licensed Cosmetologist
Navy Parachute Rigger
Licensed Massage Practitioner
Childcare/Nanny
Alaska Village Public Safety Officer
Private Security Officer
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