October 2009
6 posts
1 tag
Trust me, I have a penis and it knows how to use me.
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Lets go drink some beers so I can tell you something I want an excuse for saying.
September 2009
28 posts
1 tag
Could you kiss me with your eyes open? So I could know you weren’t seeing him on the back of your eyelids. He should be dead to you. He’s not a friend, He would say different and many would agree. We both know he’s just someone to keep around until he loves you. He never will and it hurts every moment he doesn’t. You’ll keep the pain. To keep the day dreams of the...
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I marked my place with a thin wooden pencil that didn’t ruin the biding. The pencil being made of wood was important. It smelt like burning wood, it warmed me and made me feel like a writer by the fire instead of a writer with central heating.
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He was a nice Christian boy but with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on- his penis.
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He was married to the bottle till he had an affair with Christ.
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I’m medicated by a capable doctor and a team of competent drinks.
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Her body was somewhere between hour glass and egg timer.
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It fell out of my mouth like a lie
2 tags
Wendy
Her named was Wendy and I almost kissed her a few times. She was a foot shorter than me with dirty blond hair and dirty blonde ways. She never looked innocent even in her faded purple Eeyore hoodie that swallowed her shape and the skimpy tops that put her breast anywhere your eyes looked. Her lapse of common sense still makes me want to kiss her neck. Once in art class she asked a girl, “Why...
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I took her into my arms in hopes she would take me into her later.
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She missed her friend, he missed her mouth.
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I haven’t seen her in three years and sixty pounds.
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She wore her glasses like she didn’t wear a bra.
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I looked to her for advice and cleavage.
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The anger grew slow on his face as his heart rate and adrenaline convinced him it was time to yell.
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I took her in a breath of her and fought against letting it go.
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He was so sure of the unfairness of god, if he heard the call, he’d hit ignore.
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The twenty-first century equivalent of burning a little black book, he deleted all the girls with descriptions from his phone.
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She broke his heart like she broke his sprint.
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She wanted to die and he wanted to fuck her to death.
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I’ve bought a great amount things and lost great things, chasing women.
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Thanks for the offer, but I’m in-between people right now.
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Writing Down the Bones Practice
I don’t remember how old I was. It was sometime after the green military-esque three wheeled electric squirt gun and the orange pedal car I ran over a neighbor kid with. He wanted it, he pissed blood. I think karma balanced itself out when I got my nike. I went from training wheels to none in one day of bleeding and my parents fighting about how I was learning. It’s one of the few...
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She scratched my back and told me to show my friends. She took a picture with my phone and sent it to the girls I knew better than her. They didn’t have half of much as me as she did under her fingernails.
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She was Satan’s best work in a sundress.
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She greeted me with a beer and a bad kiss. We’ve spent too long kicking shins with wit and harsh debates that turned into rough hateful sex. I wanted my dick to hurt her. Her nails made me bleed.
It ended with my disgust and her shame.
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Her skin wasn’t spanish and she had bits of twilight in her darker than night hair. Her dress was tight enough to see the boning of her corset and was short enough to see where her stockings hooked. I approached her like I said I would to at least one girl. I grabbed her side, touched her face and said hi. I kissed her and she showed me what her tongue can do.
She smoked in my car and after...
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I can see your face crinkle and your waist bend...
I want to dance with you to music muddled with our laughter. There’s bottles, cups and bowls full of water and color. They make beauty in the air as we celebrate the freedom of our love.
Blue dripping from your hair to my hand. To the edges of our kisses.
The deposit is lost and they were going to change the carpet anyways.
Kiss, love, sex, passion and freedom.
We have each other by the...
1 tag
If I had a bullet but couldn’t afford a gun I’d push it six inches into my skull.