Tim Barrus: Guns and Pain
Tim Barrus: Guns and Pain
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Tim Barrus: Guns and Pain
I am interested in pain. I had never put my cock inside a woman's mouth before. I was sixteen. And in a Lansing General Hospital bed where I mainy spent my time staring at the holes in the ceiling, and show more...
wishing I had done a better job of killing myself. As it was, things had gone from bad to worse. My guts were pretty much a major mess. A good portion of my intestines had been blown away. My shit and blood and bone all over the wall.
Nurses arrived with Jesus sweet Demerol whose syringes floated Hong Kong scows drifting through a harbor of my filth and decimation. I hated those women with every cell in what was left of my body. I hated them touching me, cleaning up the stinking infection, and the shit that poured from a dozen holes in my abdomen into the bandages that wrapped all the way around the torn obscenity that had been my waist. They thought for sure I was going to die. Speaking hush, hush, the boy might hear. But death was like the holes in the tiles of the ceiling -- only there and looking down at me and nothing I could either touch or embrace.
I wanted them to let me die. Not suck me off.
"I guess not today," she'd giggle. She was about ten years older than I was. I was just a piece of meat to her not unlike the piece of meat I was to the men who paid me to suck me off.
Demerol is not a drug that makes your cock go hard. You would have thought that being a nurse, she would have known that.
No, I guess I'm not going to cum in your mouth today.
"We'll try again tomorrow," and she'd smile and leave.
When she gave me an enema, she'd fuck my hole with her finger. Not that I could feel much of it. Some. But not much. The wound had torn away much of my nervous system, and what I was was half-numb about everything.
Oh, but I was alive; yeah for me.
The adolescents were all put on the same ward. The kid in the bed beside me had leukemia. It was fatal. I was fatal. We were all the walking dead. What point was there to living anyway. What was the point of being finger fucked by someone you wanted to kill for the humiliation she inflicted on you.
"I want to live so bad. I don't understand, man, how you would shoot yourself," my roommate said. We talked a lot. You could even say we were close. We had certainly seen enough of each other's bodies.
"I can't believe she comes in here to blow you. You don't even like it! Hell, why can't she blow me."
I had no idea why she did what she did. Usually, the people who blew me were guys at school or men who picked me up in the park across the street from the the Capital Park Hotel where I worked. Sometimes they would rent a room and they would blow me there. Usually, it was in a car but the cops did patrol Reutter Park religiously.
It was a town of Zombies and the ones with fatal diseases were the lucky ones.
"I'll trade you," I told my roommate. My wounds for your leukemia. You are going to die and I want to. These wounds are going to heal."
"They think you might die, Tim. They're pretty serious wounds."
"They're wrong," I said. "I'll live. It will be hell but I'll live."
They pulled the curtain when he died so I wouldn't see. Lucky stiff. Only had one blow job his entire life. Blowing him was the least I could do. I would have let him fuck me but there were too many holes to pick from.
It's two in the morning and my shoulders are screaming a dislocation of the mind. The metal stake they drove all the way down into my elbow is the support for the rest of the mess that now replaces what bone had been there. It wasn't really bone. What bone had been there had collapsed. Avascular necrosis is a disease that kills your bones one slow inch at a time. No blow jobs this time. Just bitches with their stool softeners which I throw across the room.
"But..."
They give this shit to everyone in hospitals. You have to be some kind of an idiot to take a medication just because everyone else is taking the same medication. I hate doctors. I hate nurses. I loathe hospitals. I am not a good patient. I fight back. I frequently just walk out when I have had enough. I throw things against the wall. I check and double check every pill I am supposed to swallow. I get up and walk around the room when I am supposed to be in bed. I crawl over the bed rail. I rip IV's out. I know how to remove a catheter.show less...
Nurses arrived with Jesus sweet Demerol whose syringes floated Hong Kong scows drifting through a harbor of my filth and decimation. I hated those women with every cell in what was left of my body. I hated them touching me, cleaning up the stinking infection, and the shit that poured from a dozen holes in my abdomen into the bandages that wrapped all the way around the torn obscenity that had been my waist. They thought for sure I was going to die. Speaking hush, hush, the boy might hear. But death was like the holes in the tiles of the ceiling -- only there and looking down at me and nothing I could either touch or embrace.
I wanted them to let me die. Not suck me off.
"I guess not today," she'd giggle. She was about ten years older than I was. I was just a piece of meat to her not unlike the piece of meat I was to the men who paid me to suck me off.
Demerol is not a drug that makes your cock go hard. You would have thought that being a nurse, she would have known that.
No, I guess I'm not going to cum in your mouth today.
"We'll try again tomorrow," and she'd smile and leave.
When she gave me an enema, she'd fuck my hole with her finger. Not that I could feel much of it. Some. But not much. The wound had torn away much of my nervous system, and what I was was half-numb about everything.
Oh, but I was alive; yeah for me.
The adolescents were all put on the same ward. The kid in the bed beside me had leukemia. It was fatal. I was fatal. We were all the walking dead. What point was there to living anyway. What was the point of being finger fucked by someone you wanted to kill for the humiliation she inflicted on you.
"I want to live so bad. I don't understand, man, how you would shoot yourself," my roommate said. We talked a lot. You could even say we were close. We had certainly seen enough of each other's bodies.
"I can't believe she comes in here to blow you. You don't even like it! Hell, why can't she blow me."
I had no idea why she did what she did. Usually, the people who blew me were guys at school or men who picked me up in the park across the street from the the Capital Park Hotel where I worked. Sometimes they would rent a room and they would blow me there. Usually, it was in a car but the cops did patrol Reutter Park religiously.
It was a town of Zombies and the ones with fatal diseases were the lucky ones.
"I'll trade you," I told my roommate. My wounds for your leukemia. You are going to die and I want to. These wounds are going to heal."
"They think you might die, Tim. They're pretty serious wounds."
"They're wrong," I said. "I'll live. It will be hell but I'll live."
They pulled the curtain when he died so I wouldn't see. Lucky stiff. Only had one blow job his entire life. Blowing him was the least I could do. I would have let him fuck me but there were too many holes to pick from.
It's two in the morning and my shoulders are screaming a dislocation of the mind. The metal stake they drove all the way down into my elbow is the support for the rest of the mess that now replaces what bone had been there. It wasn't really bone. What bone had been there had collapsed. Avascular necrosis is a disease that kills your bones one slow inch at a time. No blow jobs this time. Just bitches with their stool softeners which I throw across the room.
"But..."
They give this shit to everyone in hospitals. You have to be some kind of an idiot to take a medication just because everyone else is taking the same medication. I hate doctors. I hate nurses. I loathe hospitals. I am not a good patient. I fight back. I frequently just walk out when I have had enough. I throw things against the wall. I check and double check every pill I am supposed to swallow. I get up and walk around the room when I am supposed to be in bed. I crawl over the bed rail. I rip IV's out. I know how to remove a catheter.show less...
