Saturday, October 3, 2009


Standing before me is some kind of creature – skinny, naked, and not mine. We have different circumstances, needs, and expectations. I am an emotional cripple and a living cancer. I don’t always like to be touched, though I will tolerate it like a well-trained dog. She is in love with life, and she is the embodiment of joy. She is all things buoyant, fun and absolutely absurd. Ridiculous poetry. She is a mouthful of pure white sugar, nothing but whimsy. She struggles to offset the old coffee filter full of used grounds that is me. And I just don’t think there’s that much sugar in the whole world. But she likes to try. We’ll meet halfway. I’ll fuck her like she’s a skeleton, and she’ll hold me like a piece of raw meat. We will do it well, hard, and often. I will be everything she needs me to be. I am an image, an animal, a bottle of J├Ągermeister, and a jackhammer. She’ll tear my back apart, pull my hair, and ask for it again and again until I can’t give any more.

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