Haven't seen you since forever sex

Cells made of molecules, molecules made of atoms, atoms made of energy. we are this- Energy.
Ghosts of perception. Illusions until the spaces fill with patterns, pain, heartbreak, seduction, joy, adventures. There is no choice. the blood and salt water. the bones and ashes.    
 
Happiness is a thought that isn't anything else.
thoughts become things.  i want you here.
my skin close to your bones. our energy.  It attracts  it expands,
it explodes.
It will last many lifetimes.

everything is illusion
every doubt , every fear
that has held you back

or kept you apart from
what you've desired
There is nothing that can't be had
There are no
limits

art: Mike Egan 
photo: roadkill rabbit (flickr)

sky is womb and she's the moon

we'd speak of food like porn in secretive sexual whispers, in moans and low tones. two religions. our prayers and favors carried out on knees. the philosophy of a good fuck or a perfectly seasoned steak. the taste of melted butter, pepper, a squeeze of lime. bruises and grill marks admired as art.

there was the weathered airstream trailer painted the colors of mexico where we bought one taco after other. the lime soda, the hot sauce. The night we pulled off the highway so you could sit on my lap in the drivers seat, riding me forwards back. The farmers market excursion randomly searching out mangoes and oranges. your lips warm from the sun. How about that old cuban guy who sells seafood from the the pier? live blue crabs and pink key-west shrimp. that was sex, baby. A salt water boil, steaming pots and clanking dinnerware. we can talk like this for hours. wet mouths and appetite. blood and wine, chocolate and wine, bread and honey.

Her tooth hurt. the one in the back.
her tooth fell out. It was only a dream.
something was under her pilllow.
a coin under her pillow.
there was a strange boy next to her. he was pretty and warm.
It was only a dream.

slumberland:999 miles

get into work. click on computer. there is work left from yesterday and i change screens to look stuff up, i count things, i compute, i estimate, i click my mouse and move it here and there and up over there. this is how things get done. my eyes are already starting to burn. I get down by my drafting table and do 100 30 quick push-ups. blood is flowing now, all i can think about is writing. I found some pictures last night i’d like to post before someone else does. It’s frustrating when you save a picture thinking you’ll be the first to unveil it to the world. Of course, you won’t unless you were the one who took it, and all the ones i take never get re-blogged. and it’s such a shame.

It’s such a shame about us.

i do more work. distraction. I shuffle papers, write up invoices. i like this pen. it writes smooth and i like my spidery handwriting. i need an envelope. money is good. invoice + mail it = money. that’s a good thing right? Don’t let anyone tell you there isn’t money out there. It’s limitless, like everything else. The truth is everything i need I already have. It’s already in front of me. In front of you. I have everything i need. just your love…your love..where is that?

I wonder if it’s to early to log into my tumblr. Is it to early to see girls sucking big fat cock all over my screen? I can take it. My blood is flowing. im no prude. i don’t want to become numb to it. Sometimes it isn’t art, it’s just a woman with her legs spread and a dick in her mouth and it can become redundant. Is it to early? or is it just what i need.

There is a common thread but we all don’t see beauty the same way. I like a breaking heart and there are plenty of those too. I decide to log on. As i suspected the first 5 photos posted by who i “follow” are women with no clothes. white, asian, tied, kneeling down, ass up. It’s before 10 a.m. who doesnt like a morning boner. The next few posts are broken hearted and love quotes. There is no difference between the two. You are either searching, or finding, or in, or out, or missing… love. The common thread.

I like photos of food, another common. our tastes in food differ as much as our taste in art, women, porn, music. Something to bond over, something to relate to. something to cook for you, bake for you. the women who have been in my life can all make great pancakes. usually, blueberry. I wonder does she make them for him now. will this post be enough to satisfy me for awhile. I hope so. A distraction. I’m essentially getting paid to do this. Many of us are. Right now. Paid to write and post and be beautiful. art. I have no complaints. Everything i need. I already have. and once, I even had you.

it was magical. the kiss. it’s how we started things. it’s how we ended things. or did things really end. Do they ever?

why did i have to learn love from movies and television. I always wished to be like that guy running down the airplane pre take-off or jumping from a dock on to a moving ferry boat. I take the girl into my arms. I can’t be without you

she is waving goodbye with a beautiful sound track playing in the background. me, i just wave back. But i wanted to be the guy holding a boom-box over my head outside her window- In the rain. That Lloyd Dobler kid because (to know him is to love him).

the accumulation of ghosts. it’s more like that movie. pain is often involved and dialogue not unlike a kevin smith film. I am the out-takes to peoples lives. i am the one who drives her to marry someone else.

maybe it’s because I’ve always secretly rooted for the bad guys i

n movies. the villians with the cooler costumes and better entrance music, better hair. Deep down thats who the girls always wanted. I mean, if there was no bad. how would you know what good is?

in the end, you’ll see there isn’t much difference. there is good in even the most misguided of hearts. look, i’ll show you. (cue music)

re-posted from my tumblr

spiced cake and pumpkin guts

Dinner and a movie:

the wine will be like blood tonight.
For dinner: pasta and a homemade spicy Sicilian sauce, vegetarian meatballs.
she'd tell you I'm a decent cook, with my best being food on the grill. I can do pastas too, and not just because of an Italian last name. or maybe.

and I've tasted some of the best wines in the valley. I've kissed lips, touched skin, shared laughs with the finest of women. that's not bragging it's just to show you how very lucky I am. brown eyes, green eyes, blue.
I want you to know this because i know this. she went and shared parts of herself with me and i probably can't forget it, i probably will never escape it. You become one of the ghosts i talk too, that i write about, and I'm going to miss you as much as you do me.

Ive watched blood flowing from her vein as if some kind of test.
i am constantly passing and failing her. my
resistance so often being futile. i pull my car over to the side of a highway and think about you on top of me. there is a pumpkin patch just over the hill. there are no tears , only leaves, bright orange and falling. October. month of my birth. month of witches.

she is better cooking breakfast than dinner. That's why i asked her to stay the night so often.
she sleeps to my right, soundly with soft shallow breaths. she'll let you touch her in the night. your chest to her back. her shoulders get cold. she likes the blankets pulled up. but, who doesn't and isn't this exactly you too?

it's not all magic. the movies, music, books and our little inside jokes. not even the scents or saying "baby" or adding "bear" to the end of your name. it's not so you remember me. time is both beautiful and cruel that way. you won't. I know that too.

this isn't a trick
this is what people do to win your heart. to steal your soul. to keep you. ruin you.
letters in the middle of October become secrets and wishes and candy. Tell me. What is sweeter than that?

sex in dirty water

This is Florida and the heat gets to you. In the summer, the humidity sticks to your skin, it chokes you so you can hardly breathe. Growing up, my parents rarely turned on the A\C. When my Mom couldn't stand it any longer my Dad would argue, curse and complain and then give in. Look how much these kids are costing him was what he'd say. He would flick the switch on the thermostat and then the rattle and hum from the side of the house. Under my window. But still, it never dropped to any real comfortable level.

I spent nights, hot, laying on top of my sheets. Ceiling fan turning fast above my head. It made this terrible sound as if it was would drop down from the sky at any moment. I was afraid to sleep. Afraid I'd wake up in the morning with a missing arm or leg. dismemberment seemed worse than being hot. So I turned it off. I think that's when my insomnia started.

I liked summer vacations. I couldn't wait for school to end. We took a family trip every summer. I didn't care where. I just wanted to get away and be someplace else. new people, new things to see, smell and taste.
hotels. I liked them- especially. I was allowed to turn the a\c down as low as I wanted. Jump on the bed, swim all day in the pool.
I'd get back from swimming and open the door, that rush of cold air in my face, all over my body. My parents left a note saying they were out site-seeing. I got into my bed and under the covers. My skin burned from the sun, still wet and smelling of chlorine. Everything seemed so perfect. 2 months off before school started again. The t.v. was on. I liked the sound of the air conditioner mixed with the voices on the T.V. It was peaceful. I pulled the covers over my head. touching myself. I thought about girls, cars, halloween, the fourth of july and what we might have for dinner. *


I make no
apologies
for how I choose
to repair
what you
broke

Her room. It was fragrant: somebody else's house. It reminded me of coming home from vacation and walking in the door of my own house, and smelling it as if i was a stranger entering for the first time. I felt like a ghost who had come back, not to haunt, but merely to remember the world as it once was.

credits:

art by: art and ghosts

photo 3: lefthandedsweat

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.