Well let me tell you the story

of Skin & Bones,

’cause they were quite a pair.

Bones was all hollowed-eyed, sucked dry wraith,

the inevitable occupational consequence, the legacy,

of being a Dealers’s Lackey,

something like a Vampires sidekick, I guess.

All gaunt edges and needle marks,

Bones never said much, just sat in a corner mainly,

chain smoking White ox and waiting

for whatever was supposed to be happening

to happen. Junk & Jail had carved him down

to the bare bones of a human personality;

each fix traced the faint outlines

of where a human being used to be.

But Bones was alright in his way,

Staunch in the face of Interogation

and he was always there

for Skin to fall back upon.

As for Skin,

She had a truly disturbing Beauty,

a Glamour Dangerous.

All dark, melting chocklate eyes and

waist-length, raven black hair

and a Spectacular Sunflower Smile

that had all the boys following her

around like love-sick dogs

after a Bitch in Heat.

And as for your humble Narrator,

well, all he could say was,



Hmm. Yes.

Well, anyhoo, anyways,

Skins’ One True Gift,

her real Talent,

was the Ability, the skill

to create the Illusion of Intimacy…


Ah, Intimacy!

That oh so Special Feeling of a Relationship

that goes beyond words,

So delicate and rare.

Creating a Secret Space only two it seems can share.

So Precious, so delightful..

Its no wonder the lonely Rich are so often prepared to pay

for a fascimile of this fleeting feeling.

Yes, there’s nothing like having

a few flunkies around

to make yourself feel good about yourself

when you get up in the morning.

(Celebrities & Drug Dealers

need it special)


Skin never really lied

when She denied

her Entanglement in the Web

of Emotional Intrigues

she tangled and spun.

She bathed in a sea of shallow sincerity,

and radiated the candour of a child

denying a theft from the cookie jar.

But really She possessed

quite a valuable commodity,

and as a medium of exchange

she generally found

that it served to get her

whatever it was she wanted at the time.

This was generally drugs,

which was not a problem,

because as I’ve remarked before,

Drug Dealers need it special.

And I guess thats because

when you’re up there

on that High, Frozen, Lonely plateau

where few can ascend

(the Plateau of Perpetual Intoxic-ification)

you’ve usually marched there

over a mountain of human bones

and things like human companionship

become luxury items,

to be carried up from the lowlands

on the backs of donkeys

like Opium.


But, don’t think I’m passing

any moral judgments here.

Really I’m as dispassionate as an

anthropologist in my observations. If anything


I’m too sentimental for my

profession and I usually end up acting more

as an Anthro-apologist.

Sort of an apologist

for the human race.



if there are Seven

Deadly Virtues then surely also there

must be Seven Expensive Follies,

and Intimacy was certainly one of these.

Sadly, I woke up one day and realised

that I could no longer afford

the Illusion of Intimacy,

and so I lost contact with Skin.

(But I can still feel her long, slender fingers

caressing my wallet

as she murmers something like

Ever notice how our relationship is special

Well, Special maybe, but certainly not unique.

I’d heard her use that line

on other friends/fools many times

before but

I pass no moral judgments,

like I said).


later I hear she is shacked

up with a speed dealer

and then gets busted

for “Trafficking.”

In a pathetically spineless display of cowardice,

she informs on all her current associates

to save her own worthless hide

from going to jail.

Bones was the first to go of course.

It was kind of like his natural environment

anyway, you know,


she needn’t have bothered really.

Daddy was rich and got her an expensive psychiatrist,

a good lawyer, references, etc etc.

The court was suitably impressed

with the way she had “turned her life around”

she’d cleaned up her act,

got new friends,

a good job. But I knew the truth –

Daddy got her a job in his firm,

she rarely even turned up,

the friends were just the next bunch of blow-ins

and her “cure” ran as deep as her tan.

It was all just a hollow facade.

An empty shell of a Life,

Like the empty shell that went before that

and the one before that,

Layer after Layer,

like the make-up she used to apply

but never remove,

Hour after Hour

spent in front of the bathroom mirror

self-absorbed in the Obsessive-Compulsive

ritual of Narcissism

But in spite of all those hours

studying her image in the mirror,

she never seemed to learn anything

from her reflections,

and I often used to wonder how it was

that someone so shallow

could be so thick.

But, I guess,

in this case at least,


was only

Skin Deep.



I have written none of the things I promised last week. Like William Burroughs said, “Never trust a religious son of a bitch.”


The Reverend Hellfire. If only sugar were as sweet as he.



~ by reverendhellfire on June 12, 2011.

One Response to “INTIMACY”

  1. Reblogged this on hocuspocus13 and commented:
    jinxx 🍸 xoxo

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