Sunday, November 18, 2012
My home looks like all the others on this block. We have the same cars, same dogs, wives, kids, gas grills, oil stained driveways, manicured lawns. Same jobs. Middle of the road pay, vacation time, appreciation by management. A routine job, a routine life intermixed with anything to make life liveable, booze, pills, tv, music, deviant sex.
At some point we get sick and die. Or just by some accident we die. The common thread is die. We sit and ponder what this is all about, what it means, how we fit in to it. Saving the planet, the animals, eating right, being patient, fine, balanced , kind?
With a few key strokes i dial up a younger girl on the internet in need of some Daddy fun. Have you been a bad girl? Spanking anyone? And don't think im naive enough not to believe that deep down she doesnt really want to go all hard-candy on me. Id end up tied, gagged, kicked and bleeding. But even that- at least its something different. Less routine.
Less like the houses on my block , the cars , the job, the tvs turned up loud to drown out the screaming kids. dog asleep like a king on a fifty dollar plush dog bed thinking. What the fuck. This isn't so bad.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
but there are always the someplace elses and someone elses and these visions of roads i havent traveled. I havent learned to be still. be still. my heart. my lust. be still.
I have placed my fingers in places and lips in faces and all that i ever desired still not enough.
send me your love and your glory and your wishes. send me your dreams and your hopes and your fears. let me swallow them with pen and paper. let me choke you and violate you with these places of somewhere else. of someone else. because who knows where you are?
There is a cold dark space between the lines. lets live there. lets fuck there. lets never let this die a million times.
lie next to them. be somewhere else. with someone else. or there. with me. just there.
lay still. breathe morning. breathe sunshine. breathe winter.