I need you as a distraction, be that from reality or my self-imposed hell. Give me something good to feel about and revel in. Grab my hand and twirl into me. Let me watch your dress spin as it tries to catch up with you. I want to admire something that enjoys being admired.
Be that tiny dancer in the sand and give me a pirate smile. Hold me closer. Don’t let go baby, I need this.
Make it all go away, even though I know it won’t be permanent. You might be able to mask it for a while though. I’ll take anything you’ve got, and at least I’m trying now. The static in the signal is giving me a momentary reprieve. Thank you, I needed this.
Can you imagine it, what together feels like? It’s not a word that exudes a certain feeling but if you asked someone and they gave it a moment of thought I believe you’d get an answer that would satisfy your mind and your heart. So, as you sit there in your pretty dress with your pretty smile and your pretty eyes, can you imagine what together feels like? Would you whisper your answer in my ear and cause a shiver to pour through me? Will you let your dangling strands of milk chocolate brown hair caress my cheek and overwhelm me to where I can’t help but pull you into my arms?
Together, to me, feels like warmth on a cold day. Sharing a blanket and your weight pressed into me as if we’re one entity. It’s also a quiet summer night in a darkened room, save the yellow glow of two lamps on either side of a couch. Our bare legs stretched out and intertwined, mine between yours and yours on top of mine. One of my hands clasping a book while the other kneads at the soles of your feet, my ears gifted with soft pleasured sounds slipping past your lips.
Every time I would look up at you as you made one of those sounds. I don’t know if you we’re doing it on purpose or if its involuntary, but eventually you catch me looking and begin to do it more often. Our eyes catch and you’d bite your lower lip. That would be the end of it. The end of me. The end of the book and the end of the saccharine moment we were sharing, because I’d stare into your green eyes and get jealous of your teeth biting into your lip.
I would split your legs and summit your body. My hands beginning their trek at your hips and dragging all the way up until they dive deep into your hair, pulling it back. My fingers through your hair like forks through sand.
My lips wouldn’t have the same patience. They would dive immediately for yours and indulge in a kiss that started in the middle as if it were paused from the night before. The soft and gentle moans from my hands on your feet would sound like a Disney movie compared to the NC-17 designation I would pull from you. The windows would fog with steam and after our deeds were done we’d be thankful that the house was empty, as we made no consideration for others when letting our lungs loose to play.
And then we’d lay there together, again. Some of our clothes in various stages of wear, while other pieces at random distances around the room. My hungry lips unable to stop feeding itself with quick, repeated pecks of your cheek and shoulder. Your hands traveling my thighs, up and down, before they reach to hook on the back of my head and pull me in for another kiss in an awkward and stretched behind you kind of way.
Together. The two of us.
Wasting another night against each other and redefining the way we think of certain words.
With the Global-ocracy of all that we do we have no time to effect the things that affect us. Has the world become too small and our reach gone too wide?
Think global, act local.
Leave local, live global.
Love global, snub local.
Have we empowered the pieces that control too much of us?
Have we fed the greed of men?
That voracious appetite that will never be satisfied takes us to the bone without thought.
Do not advocate for isolationism. Celebrate the world. Enjoy uniqueness. Love differences.
But do not hold them so high that they are the mass that we are crushed by, hold them as the equal for which to strive.
We’ve got to waste some time. Time is always spent on expensive things that don’t matter much. We should pull the waded bills of time out of our pockets and drop it in the wind to fly off wherever it may. Close your eyes and open your fists. Let it go.
Whither away in the things that make the world disappear. Those activities that build a castle around you. Only let in those who are willing to forget that time is a thing and remember that we made it up to begin with. Time has no place here. No clocks, no hours and no minutes.
Don’t spend time on doing things that need to be done because you have to. Waste time on doing things that don’t because you want to.
Hey, asshole. Do you know you are the way you are? I’m genuinely curious if you have any realization about how much of a prick you are. Does your arrogance hide your awful personality or are you completely aware of what a shitty person you are and you think that’s perfectly fine?
Hey, asshole. Do you realize that you only laugh at your own jokes? When anyone else says something funny you stare blankly and give a serious response. You answer as if they were looking for words when all they wanted was a laugh. You’re too good to laugh, aren’t you? Unless you’re telling the joke, of course.
When you say something funny you burst into a hyena-like chortle. You bellow loudly so everyone within a hundred yards has to stop and pay attention to the obnoxious man. It lingers too as your voice changes and takes time to recover, because when you say something funny it’s worth it.
Hey, asshole. Have you always been such a power-hungry snob? You’re validated by making yourself seem superior to others. Purposely being difficult to diminish other’s accomplishments. Nobody knows things like you. Nobody does things like you. Anything done by anyone else isn’t worth acknowledging.
Hey, asshole. You know you can let small things go, right? The smallest slight doesn’t have to be rectified immediately. The tiniest bit of perceived disrespect isn’t required to be addressed. You don’t need to chase down the wrong-doer and have them sit so you can tower above them and explain why they were wrong. You are such a god damn child.
Hey, asshole. I hope you know I don’t like you. I hope you can see it by the way I walk by and offer the smallest bit of acknowledgment of your presence. The way I never say hello. Why do you say hello to me? Can’t you see that I have an extreme contempt for you? Are you that self-centered that you think everyone must love you?
I hope you see what an asshole you are someday. I hope its shown to you and you cringe from embarrassment and question everything you do from that day forward. But I doubt you will. Even if you don’t realize what an asshole you are, you’re so much of an asshole that I don’t think you can see outside of yourself.
Why do I even care? After all this time why do I even give a shit anymore? It’s like pulling teeth yet that urge to continuously check is still there.
I didn’t do anything wrong this time either, so there will be no year long moping. No constant sorrow. Nothing that has me moody or filled with angst. Anger and frustration seems to be the prevalent feelings at the moment.
What do you want? A constant source of entertainment? A continuous source of whatever it is you want? You can’t take without giving and you’ve given next to nothing despite my constant trying. Maybe I need to stop trying so damn hard.
If I finally take me away will it even matter? Probably not. It will be twisted or turned into something else. Abandonment probably? Who knows.
“Excuse me? This isn’t the kind of love I ordered. I distinctly asked for something with less spittle.”
“I’m sorry, I’m going to have to steal that. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I’m dying. No, please. Don’t make a fuss. It’s coming and I can’t do a thing about it. I just hope my hair doesn’t wilt before the funeral. Anyways. Tell them all I loved them. No, don’t say that. A few of them were the most unsavory types. How about this? She loved who she loved. The rest can find the nearest trolley and throw themselves beneath it. Just be kind enough to not do it in the early morning or evening commute. No use causing a commotion even in death.”
“Hello. You don’t know me but I’m in love with you. Thank you for letting me tell you that. Have a wonderful life.”
“I really don’t know what the big deal about having money is. So you can buy whatever you want and most of your worries will go away, big deal. I can find new worries so easily to replace the old ones. They’ll be wonderfully frightful worries ten times as worse.”
“If you’re going to kiss me then kiss me already. If not then stop staring at me like you’re going to because I really have to use the bathroom and I don’t know how much longer I can hold it.”
“When you’re dead can you please turn off the lights on the way out? Some of us still have to pay the power bill.”
“I love the way you let me stare at you. I know you notice and I’m glad you don’t ask me to stop.”
“Lets all go to the zoo and try to guess which is the next trainer that is going to be on the news because they were mauled.”
“If a writer dies and goes to hell they’re eternal damnation is spent doing the same thing they did when they were alive; trying to finish writing a novel but eventually scraping it and starting over.”