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We drank a lot of water that summer. Each for our own
reasons, I guess.
E's was easiest to figure out. It was because he could.
Finally tall enough to reach the shelf of the refrigerator,
finally dextrous enough wrestle with the detergent caps
they stuck on
bottles back then.
"I'm gonna get something to drink"
"Sure thing dude. Need any help?"
Just enough choices for it to mean something, but no
real way to
Make a mistake. Empowering, I suppose. The straight line,
My feet help me run to your mother who I love who by the way looks totally Hot given she's all helping and snuggly in her soft clothes and her soft self. And GOD BLESS AMERICA!! Run, Run as fast as you can to the sloppy N's that are fit for foxes in N dens with Zorro in the another word den. To Zorro's den where foxes and righteous justice combine with sweaty fox den love love where the pelt demands to be felt. Oh, ahem, got carried away there, I guess there was that Zorro thing, but then the
felt the pelt, need I say more and that whole fox in socks thing. Fox, socks, hello: not socks just coloring. speaking of coloring I'd like to color myself with the colors of my weasel, all mine. White, white devoid of original sin but ready to smeared with my sin. MY SHOES FIT ME. not sin. more will, will to want to will somebody all the way on top of me to be on top of me but also will will check the mosquito bite only on your back but when I go across I will I will go across.
oh my god i am heartily sorry for having offended thee with thy sugar and thy caffiene and thy alcohol and thy marijuana and thy cocaine and thy speed and thy wellbutrin and thy remeron and thy spironolactone. furthermore, I am heartily sorry for having offended thee with my thees and thous and feels and felts and the sacrilege of doubts and offending thee with me. and I detest all my sins, largely because I'm not good at them. my just punishment? Having been punished and punished for a long time now, it's enough, OK? I'll try harder.
My feet help me run to your mother who I love who by the way looks totally hot given she's all helping and snuggly in her soft clothes and her soft self. And Run, Run as fast as you can to the sloppy N's that are fit for foxes in N dens with Zorro in the another word den. To Zorro's den where foxes and righteous justice combine with sweaty fox den love love where the pelt demands to be felt.got carried away there there was that Zorro thing, but then the whole fox imagery thing got in the way.
The drug fairy comes bearing gifts of unimaginable cruelty. A completely unrandom act of unkindness. Brown bombs in brown bags. Bombers to take out the heart and soul so the rest will thrive. Footballs, UFOs, tiny time release terrors and tremors. Time release terrorists. Visualize world peace visualize any peace visualize pieces and pieces of peace. Part-time peace. Permanent peace. The kindess of strangers is overrated, but the killing kindness of friends offers no comfort either. The meals that congeal, the prayers that prey upon an already burdened soul. A hand up not a hand out, heart out is out.
10/7 no 24/7 for this guy palman dude. 10/7 tops. Hell, even less if I can get away with it you know what I mean sportchief ace? jar the jar stood where I left it, there were no signs it have been moved, let alone replaced. Robe her robe fell open the way they fall open in bad books and good movies. Radio radio calling all radios show me the way to fight them keep them out the foil didn't work and the paint didn't work and the blood's not working not that it's not fun that part's been fun.
A little bit of confidence is a dangerous thing. So far, however, I have been faithful to my vow to use my newfound power only for good. I really can't assign a date or sudden realization to it, stick a push pin in it and say "This is when it happened!" It's just that somewhere in the fairly recent past I became a confident person. I think that's a pretty good thing. I also became a confident man. That's starting to scare me just a bit. The back story is a familiar one. The death of my dad. Major changes.
holy shit. I am wrecked down for other women. totally wiped out, wiped clean of my sin. bathed in the slickness of the spirit and smeared with the lust of the lord of the thighs. laughing uncontrollably giddy, yippy, frothy, frolicky, spumescent. Tore down a la Rimbaud. squuezed dry, shaken out and laid out to bask in the sun till my shrivelment is apparent and looked upon fondly. Ready, rested and willing to serve again after a decent refractory period. shut up and go in and round up twice the usual suspects and give them marching orders to issue forth.
When the days of her confinement had come to an end she made ready to deliver and when she delivered she bore not a savior, not a lord, not even a babe. She bore a simple self free from all that weighed it down and tied it to her body and this world. She bore a light and airy self devoid of form and formed from a void. Delivered, born, it rose not to fly nor to hover but to be. To be to express its being. Born to be borne. Borne to the sky to the spirit of all.
I've come back farther now than ever before. Now with so much, so much farther to fall. Is that why I feel it? The graceless call? The call to fall? Running away from my self and my obligations and my responsibilities? Not particularly. Running towards something? Maybe, but I'm not sure. Running to stand still? Feels like it lately. What to embrace, to trust allow myself to feel it and let it feel its way into me? To burrow into me? To dig into me? To gouge away at me? To light the fire while the city sleeps? To burn?
Duty crawls on top of me, holds me down till I can't breath. Devotion, wrapped around my ankle, slows my every movement to a crawl and creates a lurching, struggled gait. Fidelity skips freely around me, taunting, teasing, nipping, ripping. Contentment keeps pace but never takes my hand, holds. Agape, sacred, profane, obsessive, perverted, misguided, it never makes it self known to me Leaves me craning, stretching, grasping. Intent. Conscience leaves me to-do lists and overdue notices and second notices. Collection is imminent. Action can be avoided. All is not lost with just the minimum it can begin again. Rapture.
Dark day lite night blue moon on miami My amy my Amy who thinks its bigamy but not that and since at least I'm an adult it must be adultery but not that not that emotional adultery anyway just the fiction of the friction and the slowly rising dawn and the never setting sun. bon ami mons d'jour mounds almond mounds. I've already heaped up enough on me and mine that I can't tell whether to keep on heaping, start climbing or just dig. Dig in or dig out? Or just give in and be dug under and left alawn.
How did she have the energy to get out of bed? To get dressed? To even cry, for gods sake. For her own sake. At least she still managed to do it for the mailmen. Regular mailman. Regular substitute. New substitute malimen (kids, really). Former mailmen with new routes who would come by to visit. Her gentlemen callers. "The Postal Service still going for that consumptive look?" "Fuck you." Back then she still smiled when she said it. And I have to admit, she sure made it look good and damm sure sold it better than anyone before or since.
fuck i cant type fast enough to tell you how i crave every little cravable thing every little breath every little sound every little smell scent hint of touch of dream and sorrow and touch of fear and scent of fear and smell of calm and smell of sleep and sound of self unrevealed not meant to be be revealed but discovered nonetheless in the night and on the shore that i wash up on on your shore save me save me with your shore sure self shellfish selfish self i call upon me for the light in the house.
no makeup the sweeps and swoops of grey the fine downy hairs on the cheek the small of the back the curve of the ass The denim and the cotton and the flannel that made her look softer that you could imagine and couldn't come close to as soft as she really was. It killed me that she let herself envy the kids who thought they had to shove it in your face and smear it all over every little moment in order to get it noticed or appreciated. I tried to get worked up about it, tried to care.
She stole their affections and I stole their stories. Stole their voices to replace the ones I still had to get rid of. Their voices told me I had something they wanted. Something to take from me. Something to share with me, even if it was mine all along. I had tried drowning the others, washing them out of my system and my mind. Guess I wasn't any better at water intoxication than the other kinds. Temporary reprieves, last chances to keep the roots from drying up, came and went. I came and went. She came and went so fast
lets see I can sit her and grind out stufefying page after page. SBA-CTI CIE WWW WTF or I can find my way to a warm woman who will loosen her clothing and loosen her terrible swift tongue and let loose and call up thunder. Not much to think about there is there? The kiddies to bed, they're sick anyway and the rest will do them good anyway and the rest will do me good anyway she does me will do me good and I will do her bidding and be bade to bathe her and bed her.
Please don't take it for granted, let it become dull. Please don't be dull, she asked misunderstanding the compliment but maybe not me and all the time I was thinking she didn't and couldn't understand maybe it was me who didn't understand. I was dull, OED dull: Of persons, or their mood: Having the natural vivacity or cheerfulness blunted; having the spirits somewhat depressed; listless; in a state approaching gloom, melancholy, or sadness: the opposite of lively or cheerful. Only a couple of gloriously despairing moments that have been good to put in and use and save to impress them.
The wolves have always been great singers but it's the crows that are the great nags. The great scolds. The great voices of unrest and unease. Sure, dogs and cats would just as soon eat you the minute you get a bit blue and they get a bit hungry, but it's the crows, the ravens, that hop around your front lawn and rub it in every morning. Caw. Right. Caw my ass and caw your ass and just shut up for five minutes, OK? If you're such a tough old bird why the posing preening posturing? Why not just come.
I've looked and looked for the word to describe how it felt. How it began. Lassitude? Ennui? Hardly. Freed from the effects of the anti-depressants, I had fallen in lust with my wife all over again. As would be the case, the diuretics made the mechanics a bit iffy at first, but that was no matter. Especially after the dosage got smaller and the drive got stronger. There's no other way to say it. I wanted to fuck all the time. Fuck and play loud music and write like crazy. Read. Talk about books. Fuck some more. All the time
Art Bell saved my life and my sanity and it's amazing that he could do that just with his voice and with his willingness to listen and be there. It's not fringe anything when desperate people want to talk or listen or think about bigger, better, more mysterious, whatever other than themselves. That we could be sad sick sorry and still not feel it's too late to turn back to who or what or where we want to be. I hope he quits smoking and takes care of himself because heaven should know we need him here.
am i supposed to accept being dismissed for your flingy phone call when i'm talking to you? am i supposed to listen to your flirty talk about how long and hard the day is? am I supposed to stupidly think this is part of some new agreement? Agree what? I don't remember being asked if complete and total dismissal was something you needed to do or feel. if it is, good for you, i guess. but don't i deserve to know when it coming? out of the blue? disrespect. That's what I call it. You decide.
but enough about me. In its all being about me these days I've forgotten how hard its been to be you. The pain, the guilt, the fear, the anger. Who could you blame? Where was your balm? You ended up blaming yourself and carrying that around with you for decades. It's easy to look from here and say how could you have had anything to do with it, how could you even think you're responsible? The endless optimism it truly takes to get out of bed is easily forgotten in the slogging-bogged down detail of the day and the drain.
isn't she pretty in pink and in grey and especially in the grey she doesn't wear but has earned by making it this long and I know she likes what's on my mind these days and she ain't opposed to learning what's on my mind that rocking modern sound of back and forth not in body but in mind and hey I have this book you might like and that one did interest me and the back and forth of mind outraces the ability to catalog it and leaves just the gut to go on.
well that was quite a surprise the first time you actually woke me up with your body on mine and in the chair and in the cold unfinished basement there was unfinished business and completeness and closure and unclasping and uncovering and no covering up no hiding just talking with our bodies and our touches and I'm wondering how soon I can wake you up for more of the same where I can be the king of this world if not all of the world or worlds. The king in the castles keeps wanting to keep his castle coming
How come when its talk about recovered memories its always about digging and dredging some horrible thing that may or may not have happened up from some super secret shameful past life. How come its not recovering beautiful memories that you ditched, submerged memories of flesh and sex and of course that's that it would be and sounds like but really its about recovering memories about what it means to live to be alive. To live a life of love and not be afraid of life or the love or the memories or the promises, to have no fear. None.
Tarnished halo shine? Wear these wings? With all the angels around here there's no place for a devil to work out his devilishness to betray his devilishness for something better. Evil always wants you to think it knows everything but that's just plain silly. Evil knows evil and assumes a whole bunch of evil which there is but forgets good and fun and confusion. For all the black and white I'd do much better to realize it's all there anyway all raw material and then it's got to be sold or bought or conned to connect to be seen.
Wooing her through him? Would that I could. She is lithe and her legs are firm and her smile is warm and all the cliches and her hair she rarely ever lets get wet. Once I saw it wet and before that I saw her take it down and get in and I was fairly overcome by the taking down and the getting in. Swooned? I practically did but it was not for that that we brought it. It was for him to experience the feel of giving a beautiful woman something she didn't expect, a kindness without a catch.
slip not, skid not, backslide not not to nag you but sin not care not too much say too much will mean a know not that it should not stop you from knotting up and that's not to say that I'm not here and I'm not with you just not in the way you think I have to be I can not be that I can not. Not quite not yet not too fast not too hard not just you not just me not just us not just anything not that that really matters not that much. No really not.
A treat? The veritable definition for all. He felt the pleasure of her smile and she felt the appreciation and I felt the quiet (and not so quiet and actually stirring) pleasure of encouraging his tentative steps towards figuring it out. How to please to like and be liked to remember through it all that we all are people and it's nice to be nice to nice people. Some people especially especially those with those legs and that hair and that smile and patience to show him the stroke and not be put off when he doesn't quite get it.
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