“Oh, Tina!” the new boy shouted in ecstasy from Tina’s
convertible that sat in the woods away from the school. They had been there for
hours and it was now dark.
“”I want you to rip my skirt,” Tina pulled the new boy’s
head from between her legs.
“Rip your skirt?” the new boy was surprised, yet turned on.
“Now flip me over, pull my hair, grab my neck, make me
scream,” Tina eased the stick shift between her legs. Without questioning her,
the new boy followed her commands, “Stick it in,” the new boy did. “Harder,
harder, harder,” Tina demanded as the boy thrusted and thrusted until he couldn’t hold back any
longer and he came.
“I love you, Tina!”
Tina pushed the new boy off of her and then said, “That’s
all you got, little boy. It takes real man to fuck me.” She kicked out of the
car and drove off leaving him in darkness.
He sat on the ground in a daze. What had been hours seemed now like minutes, and he was alone in the dark.
that day in new orleans/ when i was feeling sinful/ but on fire in a good way/ when my skin still burned from the friction of our raw fucking on the floor/ it clouded my head/ i thought it was fuckery i had to accept/ at the time i accepted it/ but then i realized that it was lust/ there was no love there/ even though our eyes connected as we fluidly ravaged each others bodies/ i was drunk/ on cocktails/ on cock/ on tales/ tales i'd soon feel strong enough to speak of/ i feel that i should tell people not to fuck other people's lovers/ it never ends well/ you were someone else's property/ i might have held your cock in my hands/ but your heart was still asleep in bed with him/ and that's a fuckery i can't accept/ won't accept/ i can't be the other man/ i'm so much more than that/ and like new orleans/ i will continue/ filthy/ fucked up/ but a bit of eternity hangs over me/ and a simple storm like you will never count me out...but god damn the sex was ho…
Rain drenched on my watery walk home/ the French Quarter flooded in filthy water/ a soaking as intense as the filthy fuck i had last night/ pinned against the wall/ our clothes like our hearts piled on the floor/ my feet pounding this ancient path/ i soak in the scenery with a new set of eyes/ my clothes stick to me like your skin did/ the rain has no regard for the physical inconvenience it imposes on the poor people around me/ but i'm not bothered/ these streets are not the only things baptized on this morning/ after last night i'm sure i'll never be dry again/ my skin still burns from the friction of you on top of me/ your smell is raw and primal/ as i'm open mouth kissed your tongue tastes of whiskey and precum/ i'm an addict to your flesh/ crawling on the floor to feel your touch/ but it's not all pleasure/ there's a pain in knowing that you like New Orleans around me aren't meant to be tamed/ a fuckery i must accept/ you bring me to a place i'…
In his plain white keds, jeans and a black shirt that barely covered his pregnant belly, Skinny Ham stepped into the empty bar. It was still hours before he had to perform, but he could already hear the chants from the audience and the feedback from the microphone. He saw the sound guy giving him a thumbs up and his fingers gliding up and down the fret board of his guitar.
Before stepping into the empty bar, he really did experience these things. He traveled the country performing with his punk rock band. He sang, he played guitar and he traveled. He opened for big acts and eventually big acts opened for him.
But even before the band and before traveling the country with just one van and zero groupies, he didn't have a father. The music gave him something to talk to when his father wasn't there. He never was there. Forming the band, it was his best decision he ever made. When the music stopped giving him the satisfaction he needed, once they became famous and he became bored. …
Caught in between a lover's gaze one simple thought should ne'er be thought flowing through her mind's love maze one soft touch should ne'er be fought for she feels so warm like sunshine orange, glowing, and love drunk laying still here, complete peace an enlightened joyful monk here we are in mid-laughter, just release feel the happiness hug your pores and push your hatred and the venom out past your skin, out past your denim celebrate in your glory, celebrate in mine as we drink wine and begin to shine complete and perfectly aligned look down to see fluffy white beneath us there is no mistake, this is cloud nine
Slouching on my leaf green leather overstuffed chair, feet up on the matching English Pub ottoman, my feet comfortable in faux fur lined leather moccasins, my favorite with the pink strap ties, I rest. I wear washer worn jeans, butter stained pink tee-shirt, and jean jacket of unremembered origin, comfortable after church, where church wear was the opposite of this casual dress, black leather heeled boots, black and black and black skirt, blouse and coat, but a bright blood red brocade made scarf I found at Goodwill. Is it from India? It's hung up now so it won't wrinkle, and my church clothes put away. Contrasts make life interesting.
But I am exhausted after three very complicated days full of sorrow, responsibility, and Kennedy Assassination Anniversary shows; and then fantasy fun, in that order, in that sequence. All very intense. Today in church was a relief, and a rest. But it wasn't enough. I am trying to come down by immersing myself in television and the consumptio…
One whole person
Plus another whole person
Make two whole persons
Both are halved equally
Feminine and masculine energy
Their creativity creates the fire
That all men need to survive
They celebrate what is divine
In society through writing
For the people
Speaking like their own people
They pulverize what is dishonest
With wit, class, crass, sass, edge
One whole person
Can sustain life
Two whole persons
Can create life
I will not Shake in anticipation of
your voice. I will not Trimble at the memory of
your touch. I will not Shutter in longing for you
kiss. I will not Die of missing you. I have no Right to expect an ounce of
kindness. I have to Vomit the angst in my stomach
. I have to Remember how you made me feel
alive. I have to Learn to live without you. I will Love you always It will not hurt forever.
this counterfeit disposition
can't be good for your health
wasn't for mine
you sit across the room from me
and i see your smile
i see the Light in you that initially attracted me to you
i see the real you
beneath all the guise
you inspire me
sometimes if you bore me i'm comfortable
and if you interest me i'm scared
my attraction paralyzes me
but i want to be the real thing
and so do you
i see it in you
and in this drag that life can be at times
my makeup's all off
who am i?
i am a boy sitting across from you relating to your struggle because we are alike
and the room smells like Peppermint oil
we are both trying to quiet the storm that brews within us
but maybe the storm is a gift
and we should stop running from it
and run toward it
embrace our light
life threw us at each other for a reason
and it's unfolding
in your evolution i see my own
Standing at the Convention Center knowing that your government would come; they did three days later. Images gouged into my brain. All the while our fellow citizens washed away to be forgotten. Not by me; Not by me. *************************************************** At least 1,836 people lost their lives in Hurricane Katrina and in the subsequent floods, making it the deadliest US hurricane since the 1928 Okeechobee Hurricane. It should be noted that officially, 1464 of these deaths took place within New Orleans. == Deaths by state: == === Alabama: 2 === === Florida: 14 === === Georgia: 2 === === Kentucky: 1 === === Louisiana: 1,577* === === Mississippi: 238 === === Ohio: 2 ===
so i want to wander and i need to wonder and if your love is real it'll be there when i seek it i need to be free to explore this life and maybe it's not my lot in life to be attached to someone else's star maybe it's my destiny to burn my own path through this life take the road alone unknown sometimes i feel like Dorothy Gale making my way down the yellow brick road encountering people who are broken incomplete who are searching for something just like myself whether it be love or strength or courage the road can be long twisted but i'll keep blazing my way my very own yellow brick road leading to self love but don't think i won't miss you along the way i will i do but i need to conquer this demon on my own and if we never get the chance to reunite in this lifetime perhaps i'll love you in the next
arrived at his apartment.It was on the
second floor.The apartment building had
a rustic, fire house sort of feel.It
was about four stories high with ruby red brick.The side walk had designated parking spots
for each apartment.He carried my
bags.I only had a carry on.He never did let me do much for myself.When he opened the door the first thing I saw
was the most beautiful apartment in the world.It was very spacious.The hallway
to the living room had paintings, mirrors, and decorations that all seemed to
flow together like a river of perfect design.Chris could not have put together this apartment.And he would never hire someone to design.A woman definitely designed this
apartment.Actually, a woman definitely
lived here.There was a purse on the
coffee table.Before I could finish my
thought, a tall slender black woman walked from the kitchen and lit up at the
sight of us two.
Why do I cause you so much pain, I wish I could find the words to explain. I know that you and I belong together, You have always sheltered me from the weather. I think I do the things I do to keep me safe, Even though you say you’re here to give me faith. Could it be that I am afraid to loose you too, Is that the reason I try to hurt you? To have you leave me for another mate, Will it be my fault when you have left me to this fate? You have made me happy beyond belief, You have been the ground beneath my feet. I love you more then I often show, Please don’t let this cause you to go.
I can't believe the return ... the obvious slow churn of the stomach butterflies I breath in clear blue skies as the time in her eyes flies 'cause bye bye ms. american pie I'd rather my white cake red icing with a similar take in our humors and loving ways her love that feels like sun rays exploring her coves and her bays with seconds that turn to minutes and minutes that grow into days our minds have already crossed so I guess we have double-knit into a type with a name "at any cost" and for you my dear, you are my last you and I will never be lost except in each other's gaze
How do I make up what has been done,I have hurt your mother and her son.Vengeance has broke our hearts,I should have held onto our love from the start.I have no way to make this up to you,Maybe there is still love that will act like glue.The way I have acted is no excuses,You seem to be hurt and over the abuse.To make this up I would do what ever I can do,Just to prove that I still love you.Please do not leave me to this fate,I will be here because you are worth the wait.You need your space to sort your thoughts,I will understand if you tell me to get lost.All I know is there is pain where there was love,Is it too late for us or has it flown away on the wings
of a dove?