she sits in a room. you sit a room.
she barely sees her hands. you see her skin.
she stirs in her chair. you stir her from sleeping.
she rubs her hands on her legs. you rub your hand on the inside of her thigh.
she cups her hands and blows into them. you open her legs and press between them.
she stands up, paces. you pull her hair, you pull her mouth to yours.
she trips over herself. you trip over her tongue.
she sits down again. you push her down again.
she looks in the dark. you look at her.
she’s been here before. you’ve seen her before.
she gets up abruptly and tries to leave. you get up abruptly and try to take her with you.
there are no doors to her room. there is no one here with you.
Category Archives: words
to write ceaselessly
to write it ceaselessly, endlessly, until it all goes away, the fragrance of it, the scratch of it, to reduce it all to the trace of a lost thought, something that can fit snugly in the back of the throat where not even the nimblest of fingers can get it. where you will write over it, ceaslessly, endlessly, until it’s all noise, like the way it was before, like the way it was before you were found.
hair and beard
i said to her, yeah ok, the hair i can understand. it’s a bit much, even for me. but, the beard, no. i need the beard. i’m grieving, i need the beard to cover my face.
i turned away, my eyes welled up too quickly, i hadnt expected it, so sudden, so raw. i had to not look at anything.
what? she said, touching my arm, what is it? what is it?
how do i tell her, i dont know, i still dont know where all the pain comes from, all this fucking sorrow.
it's truly amazing
it’s truly amazing what people can get away with, he said, putting out the cigarette. what’s funny, and completely absurd, is what they convince themselves they can get away with.
he looks dead at you. but you my friend, you can’t get away with shit.
it’s truly amazing
it’s truly amazing what people can get away with, he said, putting out the cigarette. what’s funny, and completely absurd, is what they convince themselves they can get away with.
he looks dead at you. but you my friend, you can’t get away with shit.
the turn
-what’s the turn?
-the turn? boy, don’t you know about that yet? that’s when things end.
-why is it that?
-goddamn it boy, you just show up or somethin’? it’s when someone’s gone as far as they gonna go, and they decide to turn back.
-that obvious huh?
-fuck yeah it’s obvious. it’s a whole new change in the weather in a different country. it’s like waking up one day and you don’t speak the same language anymore.
-there’s no stopping it, is there?
-listen boy, it’s the natural order of things. friends, lovers, family. they all turn. they have to. one day, they all change. so do you, boy. so do you.
-i don’t want to.
-boy, you’ve been turning so fast you might as well be a top.
christening toast
thank you all for coming, etc, etc.
children are amazing. when i first met christina, i think i scared her witless. i mean she cried for days. maria told me not to take it personally. but i knew better. christina was going to be tough nut to crack. so it’s been going like this for about a year now, we’d see maria and john and the girls and right on cue, christina starts bawling. until recently, her father was putting something together, and i was helping him, and christina just stumbles out, stepping all over me, starts helping us too. next thing you know, she takes me by the hand, by the finger actually, and starts pulling me around. showing me off, like, “hey everybody, look at my clown!”
there’s something of her grandfather, john’s father, in her. this defiance. this stalwart determination to have things on her terms. that’s how i remember John’s father. God, he was a brick of a man. he was full of history and laughter. and he always took me seriously. when i met my then future wife, he took us out for breakfast to size her up. he told me not to play games with this one. obviously he approved. and he always had this godfather-esque air about him. So you can imagine the irony, and the absolute delight I feel, when John and Maria asked US to be Christina’s godparents. look at her. god, those eyes, aren’t they something? With 2 other girls, John’s already in trouble, but the eyes on this one. He’s going to need my help too. and we are completely willing, it would be our honor.
Maria, John, I cannot tell you what a privilege it truly is, to bring our families even closer like this, through the christening of your daughter and in the memory of your father. I still miss his laughter but i can almost hear it again, in Christina’s own.
Na mas zeesee!
what do you want to be when you grow up?
I asked the little one what she wanted to be when she grew up.
She thought about it. “I wanna be a princess and a fire engine”
“you must mean a fireman, err, a firefighter.”
she shakes her head, “no a fire engine.”
“with ladders and sirens and hoses?”
she nods her head, “yeah!”
spin
she must like the taste of my pussy on your lips.
what if we turned the genders around, is it still as vicious?
he must like the taste of my dick on your lips.
no. it’s not, is it? this comes close though:
he must like the smell of my cock on your breath.
why is that?
my own hate
people get confused. they think that when i say, “my hatred is my own,” they think i hate myself, that i’m talking about self hatred. but you’re wrong, so very wrong. i hate you. truly i do, i hate you all.
and i’ve worked very hard to keep it safe. i’ll never let you see it. i’ll never let you own it. i will never give it to you. i will never give in, it is mine.
all this hate is mine.