Sunday, May 29, 2011
dream within a dream within a .....
These words are open mouth kisses and legs spread wide. make me hard. make me weep. send me your letters of discontent. blunt force trauma. i want you one very first last time. you have two fingers. give me one and wear my ring. two hands. he has one I hold the other. one heart. penetration. you are in my head.
I wasn't sleeping . I read. A flash-light sits beside my bed. I've started a thousand books. books in stacks on the floor. My note-pad and a pen.
I draft the type of characters that one would dream up in the middle of the night:
'He is a teacher. He teaches creative writing. She is his student. He has never had a best-seller, he writes a blog under a fake name. He likes her, but she isn't his first. He always waits. She said she would wait until she was 18 and that was in May. He wanted to wait until she graduated. she couldn't wait. He told her he didnt want to do everything. "everything?" at least until she was out of his class. in college or something. He knew the window of opportunity was closing. It wouldnt be exciting. summer. His wife. His charming home. Writing alone at his old wooden desk. one word than two. another and more. nothing.
She met him at the hotel. he texted her the room number then deleted the exchange. They both would write about this. She laid on the bed. He told her to pretend she was alone. "show me what you do when youre alone and need cock." He had never spoke like that to her. Never said the word "cock" so graphic.this was blunt force trauma. their fantasy. "we can't do everything" he reminded her. She wore a skirt and light blue buttoned down blouse. she sat up on the side of the bed. He was in a chair. she leaned back and spread her legs apart. she pulled her undies aside and rubbed her pussy. shaved. she was close to half his age. He unbuttoned his pants, pulled out his dick. breathing. air conditioner hum. she watched him. he watched her. moans. she looked at him. offering. He was close to losing it. full of cum he is liable to to anything and he knows it. just cum..just cum and things will go back to normal. he got up and walked over to the side of the bed. He slide her panties down, they were wet in his hand. He held them in one hand and stroked his dick with the other. just ....He orgasms in a thick stream, shooting one, two, three times. On her thigh. she moans. her face is flush. watery eyes. maybe she came. maybe she didn't. He goes to the sink and gets a hand-cloth, runs it under the water. He cleans off her thigh and lays beside her on the bed. no words. both staring at the popcorn ceiling. the she told him it was intense. that she wanted to feel him inside her so bad. she whispered about college and her latest boyfriend. He thought she was a decent writer. but what can you do with that? He touched her skin. delicate. he thought about taking his wife on vacation. He thought about other fantasies he's had lately. then he removed the rest of her clothes, took off his and told her to get on the covers. they were naked and she could feel how warm his skin was. it was the start of summer.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
the fear you won't fall
Tonight my yard is full of fireflies--a glitterfest of green, blinking by hundreds,
my old live journal heliumglow deleted. without much fanfare. without tears. just on a whim really. no sparklers or fourth of July. i lie that I am sometimes not missing her. and she was the reason. for it. I clicked to read my "friends" journals. clicked and its all just cold and empty. maybe they will find me. maybe they won't and it doesn't matter all that much any way. do or don't. that's what I am always trying to tell her. so with an urgency i get to trying to put it all down. and I started to write her name. but it wasn't funny anymore. it wasn't sad either. It wasn't relate able to my life now. it wasn't a lesson learned or time served. It was fake and desolate, it was lying and redundant. it was saying it- to say it. and you deservedly missing me. me, I am somewhere out there too.
a life time ago. so it seems. and i tell myself- the dirty is gone from there.............
to here.
Ive fallen in love, over merely her beauty. have you? I think everyone has. who's to say if its right or wrong. what is love? someone who treats you good. do i not? have i not? this has always been my way of saying it. and it's funny, how it's never quite enough. I guess there is always that question. is it even real.
beauty
it is nothing but something to look at. it is a trick to make you love me. to make me love you. but what of the skin and bones and blood? what if she bled for you. what if she made you feel something, something that you would never never feel again. would you want it back. Is that love? just be happy you had it. just be happy.
you
you
never looked back
I'm not so great:
i stayed over. the first time. and i knew. I knew it right off. I looked over at her sleeping and I knew i was so utterly fucked with smitten. so fucked with a crush, with a sickness. I'd reach out and touch her skin. my warm hand on her cold shoulder and Id warm it. pull the blanket up over her. I would be seriously destroyed. i wasn't acting like myself. but maybe i didn't know me. I wanted to weep. I went to the bathroom just across the hall. trying to be quiet. trying to let the angel sleep. across the tile floor bare-foot. cold. in the bathroom i looked at myself. I wondered how she could let someone like me even fuck her. but i did. we did. in the mirror my eyes watery. hair tussled. I knew i had to do something. She wasn't so great. i had to tell myself that, so i wouldn't get hurt. I saw her tooth-brush in a pink cup on the sink. I saw her tongue scrapper beside it. This was it. my only hope. I took it out and put it under my nose. id have to remember this.
and When she finally told me goodbye. that it was done. over. that I wasn't the one. I wasn't even close to it. i put myself back there in the bathroom. just after the night of sweat and words and kisses. after the sleeping next to her skin that smelled of vanilla. there in the bathroom with that foul fucked up smell of her dirty mouth under my nose.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Lunch with Dead Presidents
When I get insomnia or anxiety. Both.I try to sleep or I am sleeping, but I am awake.
something isn't right. I am not sure what it is. I have different ghosts that follow me
like shadows. I have 10,000 I am sorrys to say.
I have a shovel and dug a grave for my regret to heave into.
I stay clear of my enemy remorse and if I stay up for a certain amount of days, a certain amount of hours. They say time heals.
I seem to forgive myself.
I live the same way as you.
In the night I get up and with the same clothes I wore to bed
I head out to the Super Walmart because it is open all night.
Just driving over I start to feel a calm wash over me.
Like going to the Dr. when you are sick. All of a sudden you feel great right before you get there.
At the office you are sitting there. Thinking. I caused this. I should have slept. My back hurts.
It wasnt adverse side-effects from medications. It wasn't acute allergic reaction. It wasn't
that I couldnt breathe or my throat was really closing. It wasn't aids, or bird-flu, I don't have this mysterious cough anymore. How odd. Mind control. Are you losing it?
There are strange people here at this time of night. People like me. There is a comfort we now share. Never really sleeping, Never really awake. Images flicker before you like Fight Club. like bad porn. which used to work but now only makes me sad.
Would I have the strength to fight? Somebody other than myself. The courage to rub myself until I cum. Knowing that void. Knowing that if I called her. If at the right time she would ask me to come over. That she says she knows what I need. And isnt it strange that when I call she to is wide awake.
If I pretend to be sick. If I fake my way through it all. Could I finally get some sleep.
When I was with her. Did she think I was sleeping? Did she think she had fucked me to sleep?
I closed my eyes but I wasnt asleep. Dick still sticky with scent of cunt. sweat dried and heart racing.
I have pills for that now. The racing heart. For the start, the stop. The everything.
But what i need, what I really need is to be walking down aisles under flourescent lights. To get away from here. From you. From her. From me. What I need Is a song without her name attached. My 5 minutes of fame before the flame goes out. New energy. A muse to write for. heart-attacks. Notebooks written in and then stolen. The ability to breathe under water. Her. Under me. Her. over me. The grind. The work. The money. We had meaning. We all have this hope and dread that we aren't really going to die and we are not really going to live.
Notice me. I want to find you and slip away.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Dig down deep or don't bother fucking digging at all

The pictures make the words
cheap
the wine cheapens the lies
and your lips
taste like wine
and
lies
so
as it all comes to me
now
as you haunt my dreams - just like you wanted
as you left my life - is it just how you imagined?
but if i wanted- I could
i could take
her
away from you
swiftly like before
like falcon
like panther
like soldier
like sin
like the whore in the night - meets saint in
motel room
like evil meets light
I believe it
and what you believe is so
so it
is
so I hear her
so I feel her
so I know
this moon is our moon
always
and that night
when I was drowning
when I was deep
when I said
slut
love
fuck
and shit
when I kissed your bruised mouth
and swollen lips
all of our lies
came to life
inside
you


