How come that blood

The sun hangs up there and it doesn't want to fall. days seem longer, they drag and wilt awaiting our kiss dizzy summer. I have trouble getting to sleep. my mood sharpens or fades depending on the music i play, the books i read, the photos my eyes show me. maybe it all depends on if she loves or not - misses me or not - or.. at all.

shadows appear on walls and familiar faces loving and lying and twice in between, not enough. I'm fixing us something to eat, I'm using a grill because where there's smoke there's fire. drinking wine and waiting for midnight as if something will change. but, no pumpkin, no white horse, no death. not yet.

i think of how much I'm hating the word "sustainable" lately.

I breath in ,,,, one, two, three, and out............ four, five, six.

driving home past road kill and garbage trucks. idling slow at red lights next to pretty girls on cell phones text fucking their lovers. I care about the earth and our sustainability. I do. I drink water from taps, I apply even pressure to cuts and scraps. I kiss bruises. I just don't use the word "sustainable" as it applies to food or textiles or the rubber garden hose coiled up like a snake.

Broken when I bought it

1. Making The Rules:
She is talking to me about mistakes and regrets.
And I don't think of them as one in the same. Everyone makes mistakes and regret is just the possible result of such mistake. Since mistakes are inevitable and unavoidable - Human. I ask her. "Doesn't that make regret just an illusion?" Isn't it more a feeling of guilt based on the making of a poor decision.
"But don't' you feel guilty or regret for anything ?" she asks. " "I don't"
Simply I chose to learn from mistakes with the knowing I will most likely make more. The real lesson is what have I learned? Just because mistakes are bound to be made, it doesn't make for an excuse to knowingly engage in something that is bad for you.

2. Giving Me A Try:
Are you the type of person to try anything once? Can you talk-yourself into believing in fate, that life is to short, that this could be your one and only chance. Do we have second chances?.
What if I miss the chance to touch her, to feel her, to know her, to love her.
She tells me there are no second chances.
I say " In another life then. That is where I will get to love you, to keep you." She half believes me, I can tell. She is the kind of person to try anything once.

3. I Like The Way You Are:
No one is innocent. Some people are kinder than others, but overall no one is much more special than anyone else. She tells me " You're not perfect and hardly as brilliant as you might think."
Once you realize this the burden of perfection is lifted. I asked her does she often dream of being with someone else other than me. "In bed?, of course and don't say you don't."
When she is feeling fragile she asks me if I think she is bad. If I think her thoughts are bad. That I don't understand how bad she is. This is really confession. A story for a story. Stories aren't bad. Thoughts aren't bad. I don't think in general anyone is really that bad. Forgivness. I can give her. I can make it okay again. I can open and close scars. "I can't put you back together, but when you are scared I can help you go to sleep"she tells me she liked it when her step-father used to touch her. She asked me if it was bad that she liked it. That nothing ever went to far, just he touched her, but she wished for more. In her room she would orgasm thinking about this. Sometimes she still did. It was dark and rainy out. She likes the lights off. I don't mind. Regret, mistakes, guilt. I tell her it doesn't fall into place there. It falls into place here.. and I point to her head, then trace my finger down to her breast, I run my hand over her nipple. It falls into place, here.. and I reach between her legs. "Is this how you felt? tell me, Is this how you feel?"
When she calls me Daddy, is that bad?

4. Dear xxxxx:
I am not perfect and not always nice. But I do learn, I do stumble, and I do, you know I do. I do fall. I move on, but I am not any less for having wanted to stay, not any less for the wanting something different. not now not ever. For the wait. For the every things we can not have. I am not asking. I am taking. I am stealing you, I have stolen you. I have written you alive and dead and here and there and for LIKE EVER.
I know that no-one is better than me and that is not ego. It is fact. Take all your new and improved versions of me. Those special snow-flakes. They melt like you- on my tongue. I won't burden you with you having to lie or impose vast expectations. Only that what you give me. What you give to me. Let it be fucking real. I will trust, until you show me different. until your actions say otherwise. Still even then, after goodbyes, after all or nothings and the little suicide attempts at closure. I will remember you fondly, knowing you are just like everyone else. Except. You are no longer in my world.

Hoping it stays just this broken

We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospection.
-Anais Nin

Coke and coke type products were banned from my home as a kid and so to me soda was nectar of the gods. Something one only drank when you went to visit Grandma's. My parents didn't mind the no limit Coca-Cola party there, just so long as I was to be staying with Grandma for the entire weekend. By Sunday night was I wreaked for a week- crashing down to earth in my sugar and caffeine trip. I slept in the car on the way home and had to be carried in. Screw 4th grade. I had now discovered the 2 great joys in life. Coke and masturbation.

Back then it was really Dr. Pepper that was my course of medicine. It seemed to soothe me in ways no other beverage could. Don't get me wrong Yoo Hoo had it's place in my trailer park upbringing as well. I dreamed of jerking off with one hand and sipping a D.P. with the other.
Madness would be if I were to be watching an R- rated movie through the squiggly lines on cable at the same time. ( We didn't get cable until I was 14)

I started cutting lawns when I was 10. I figured if i was old enough to fuck. Which is what I thought I did with the girl down the street. I could start up my own buisness. I tried the lemonade stand thing but, my Mom bitched about me using the card-table. The same table we called "the kids table" during major holidays. There wasn't much money in it anway. Even on the hottest South Florida summer day i was lucky to make 4 dollars. Chump Change.

It didn't take me long to find out it wasn't actually sex I was having with the girl anyway. Fucking, which I called hunching back then was NOT peeing on her while she laid down on top of leaves in the woods?. It took someone much older and wiser than me to set me straight on that. It was my best friends sister. It's where I learned most of the things I knew then about girls and sex. I figured her the expert, being 13 going on 14 and me only 10.
By the way, my friend, he didn't have soda at his house either, but his sister would make us the meanest Kool-aid this side of Belle Glade's Happy Gardens trailer community.

I guess his sister was supposed to watch us, (Their parents were never home) but all she ever did was talk on the phone or have boys come over and then shut herself in her room and play loud rock music. We used to try to listen for them having sex through the wall of his room. We both had drinking glasses to our ears and a hand down our pants. We once saw in the back of a DareDevil comic-book an ad for a SUPER hearing device. We planned on going halves for it once I started making money doing lawns.

If she wasn't on the phone or didnt have a boy over she would hang around us. I liked that. She would ask me all sorts of questions. Things about sex. Did I like listening to her through the wall? If my thing got hard?. How big did it get? I thought it was strange she talked like this in front of her brother, but he didnt seem to care. I mean he was the one always trying to see her naked.

One day I was over there and we were all on a Kool-aid and Tussin high. Totally "tussed" up as she called it. She was always going through her mom's medicine cabinets and taking anything she could find in a bottle. She tried to make us take things too. I never did. I told her I was allergic. Little fucking hypocondraic that I was. I thought I'd probably die. The Kool-aid's sugar content alone made my head spin. We spooned some cough syrup and washed it down with the day-glo liquid. She drank right from the bottle. I liked when she tilted her head back and i could see the muscles and veins in her skinny throat. Things were in slo-motion. I sat closer to her on the sofa, and she started kissing me and then her brother. We were on either side of her and she took her hand and slid it down my pants and started to rub me while her brother played with her boobs. It didn't look like the first time he had done it either. My friend, he goes " Do that thing to him" She smiled and put her face in my lap, pulled my shorts and underwear down passed my thighs and put her mouth on me. Suddenly I was awake and alive and feeling good and feeling sick and and wondering if this was a sin, and wondering if ........
she fell asleep or passed out or something. She stopped. I got up and let her stretch fully out on the couch. Then we both took her clothes off and pet her skin and touched her and looked at girl parts and took turns putting our fingers in some and then out. She was breathing softly and moaning, making little noises.

We never talked about it. I went back to the super awesome sweet Kool-Aid. She went back to her room with boys and loud music and funny smelling stuff coming up from under the door. She went back to the phone and back to teasing me about things I didn't know. Did she know? Does she now?

I did cut the lawns and when I made enough money I bought a fishing pole that I wanted (I still have it). In between I would use some of the money to buy Coke. Ride my bike to the bait n tackle shop a mile or so away and get it in the glass bottle. 10cent return.
At home I would hide it back in the woods. It had been a long time since I had one last. When I finally drank it, it wasnt as sweet as I thought it would be. I went inside my house and took packets of sugar and then went back and added them to the COKE. The weird thing is nothing happened. It doesn't matter how much sugar or aspartame you add to a Coke, it can't get any sweeter than it already is. That's their secret formula. It's not some secret ingredient, it's that they are already supersaturated with sweetners.