When 4 am is too early to go to bed

I don’t know if I can lust after you any more and that feeling is so strange.  The urge is there but the push to do it has faded.  You’re like a flower picked from the garden and wilting under the sun.  It used to be something quite pretty but now the petals are showing their weakness.  How much longer can you last?

This is tired, this whimpering lust.  The forced need to suck the blood from your lips after biting my way in.  Eye to eye so I can watch you flinch when the skin breaks.  I want it but only because of muscle memory.
We’re like a long drive in the middle of the night.  I need your voice to keep my eyes open and my mind sharp.  You’ve been asleep in the passenger seat and my eyelids are getting heavy.  Wake the fuck up, I need you.

So will you be gone eventually?  Just like the girl with the killer smirk and the devil woman?  Karen with the fluffy bra and the one with the legs and the smirk?  The misleading girl who injected so much into me?  Will you survive or will you be a memory of something I want to bring back but can’t seem to find?

Maybe not.  Perhaps it’s just a hot day and a little bit of cool air will bring back your color.  The pink and purple in your eyes.  The lift in your limbs.  You’re the one who survived the longest and if anyone has a second chance it’s going to be you.

Love, sex & your look under moonlight

Your eyes have an orbit.  They’re heavy in gravity and darkness, and your lashes are bridges to the vastness of space.  I’m lost and I don’t want to be found.

Your stares feel warm like the sun.  When it’s gone though it haunts me.  A still picture of you in silence as you look me in the eyes and hold my gaze before turning away.  I can’t tell if a smile dripped from the corner of your lips or not.  It was probably just a memory being re-purposed.

You’re a 70’s girl with a 90’s past.  Your thick eyelashes and dark stares get me high.  I can’t say no, even if I wanted to.

Whenever I hear you I remember how to love someone I almost loved.  I can smirk at the absurdity of love as well and the audacity to look for it.  The spirits in your voice stir up the ghosts and they hold a glass in each other’s honor.  Everyone’s invited.  Past, present and future.

Creep

How long

have you been watching me?

How much

did you see,

and why

do you linger in the hallway

waiting for me

after class?

I’m always asking questions that don’t have answers

Is it too much to want to love someone fully, without abandon?

I wanted to make a girl smile.  I wanted to see her lips spread and her eyes crease.  I wanted to be what she looked at when her face was so beautiful.  She made me happy and I wanted to return the favor tenfold.  But she didn’t want to smile, or at least not for me.

I’d love to be the reason for someone’s smile, and be the reason she knows that she’s appreciated.

 

A sweet kind of sickness

It’s sticky and we can’t resist it.  It’s sweet and we need another taste.  Some sicknesses you don’t recover from, they merely go dormant.  Then you have that craving crawl up your throat and through your fingers until you have to feed it.  It isn’t pretty, it’s an addiction.

I’ve been trapped in honey.  I’ve been swallowed by the night.
Cleaning memories from my mind is pointless.  The honey is too thick.  The night is too deep.  I can’t come back from that.

So we indulge ourselves.  We try to live for the better and say we’re over it.  The sickness doesn’t show any signs at all, until you taste the softest sweetness and want to be consumed.  Until you see the darkest nothing and want it too surround you.

I’ve got it at arm’s length.  It’s biting and gnashing its teeth.  I can feel it’s breath, heavy on my skin.  I want to let go.  I want to drown.  Tell me not to let go.  She’s not there.  Tell me she’s not there.

You’re my poison

I don’t like cigarettes, but seeing one dangle from your lips gives me a charge.  You’re so casual too, pinching it between your fingers and dragging in the poison.  You filter out the really bad stuff and let the rest blow like a whistle from your lips.

Such a cool girl with your sunglasses on.

 

I’m Addicted To Crazy

You aren’t the kind of crazy that I’m addicted to.  You’re trying too hard to be it, too.  The put on act isn’t working.  The jealousy just isn’t real.

I’ve always been addicted to crazy.  Crazy highs and crazy lows.  The only thing I can  hope for is that the highs are more frequent and longer lasting.  So far I think they’ve been worth it, or at least I have a poor memory.

It’s not right.  I can’t help it though.  Every worthwhile relationship I have ever been in the girl has been a little bit teetered towards loony-ville.  She’s done something that was a bit off or said something that wasn’t quite right.  I guess they all could say that the common denominator was me.  Maybe I’m the one who makes them this way.

You know she’s gone when she says, “fine, “then pauses and says it again followed by another longer pause only to say it again.  She repeats this cycle, shaking her head and throwing her hands around.  It’s like she’s arguing with herself inside her head and I only get to hear half of the conversation.

This kind of girl, this crazy girl, has always been full of passion and intensity.  I think that’s what draws me to her (if I’m not making her that way to begin with).  I’ve always been attracted to passion.  To liveliness, and I guess, to a little bit of crazy.

Flirting With The Devil

It was just for fun because, of course it was fun.  Nobody had a stare like hers.  Nobody.  You could read her mind through those smiling eyes and it was always going to be on the bad side.  She wasn’t having fun unless it was doing something wrong.

“Where we goin?”

That twang in her voice only made you buckle further.  The bit of off kilter country in her vocabulary was disarming.  What put you back on full alert was the way she licked her lips when you thought she didn’t see you looking.  She’s going to hurt you, boy.

“East.”

Her feet were on the dash of your truck.  She was barefoot.  Soles flat against the dashboard.  The airbag was turned off, not that it worked anyways.  Third-hand trucks only ever get touched up on the essentials.  Airbags never were any good when going off road anyways.

“Cut it the fuck out,” your daddy always used to say when he got a new truck.  The first thing he did was take it through the backwoods to get the squeaks and whistles burnt out of it.
The airbag was the first thing to go off when he hit a tree trunk and flew over it.  Your head busted against the backseat.  Thankfully this one had seat belts.

“Machete’s on the floor.  Cut that fucker outta there.  Ain’t nothin’ but the Lord savin’ you today, boy.”

The Lord can’t save you now though.  Your eyes kept glancing at her feet.  Why did you love her feet so much right now?  It was probably the way the skin went all the way up her legs to those daisy dukes she was wearing.  How bad did you want to lean forward and take a peek between her legs?  She would know though.  You think you’re slick but she always knows.

“I don’t know directions.  What’s east?”

She was looking at her fingernails.  The twang in her voice bore it’s way out on the word east.  Those e’s followed by a’s sounded as if her mouth had to work over time to get them out.  You shifted your weight left and right and leaned forward in a mock attempt to make it look like you were trying to get comfortable.  You were trying to steal a peek.  She knew it and turned so you couldn’t.  You knew it because she smirked again.

“Mud pit.  Thought you might wanna go off road.  S’more fun at night.”

You’re gonna catch whiplash looking back and forth at her like that.  Better focus on the road.  You can’t though.  You saw her eyebrow raise.  She’s got you and she knows it.  You know it to and don’t care too much either.

“Uh huh.  You done this before?”

She sat up straight and put her feet back on her flip fops.  Ratted out old pink ones that she’s been wearing all summer.  You saw them when they were brand new at school.  She didn’t know you existed then and now she’s in the cab of the truck your driving.  Look at you, boy.  Your old man would be proud if he saw you and he probably wouldn’t even care you stole his truck to do it.

“With my daddy.  Watched him ‘nough.  It’a be alrigh’.”

You could hear her snort a bit of air through her nostrils and the smirk was burning a hole in the side of your face, “yer daddy know you stole his truck too?”

The way she said daddy made your palms sweat.  The way a good country girl said daddy since she was little, but with enough of a difference to make you wonder what it sounds like in other situations.  Where was all this coming from?  Must be the devil inside her bringing out the flames.  There was brimstone between your legs and only one way to put it out.  She was your cure.

“Nah.  He won’t know.  I got this.”

“Mmhmm,” she leaned back and smiled.  She tossed a glance at you while she held the smile and said it again.
“Mmhmm.”

It was getting dark.  The sun was below the horizon and the shadows were creeping.  The dusk was getting comfortable and you finally found the spot.  This is where your daddy always took you.  It was only a few times at night but you had the feel for it.  Couldn’t be too different then day.
You jerked the wheel off the pavement and into the brush.  Good thing her feet were on the floor and her seat belt was latched or you would of lost her.

“What the fuck!  Gimme a warnin’!”

Shit.  You consider apologizing but you’ve got to focus on the road now.  The path is clear but it ain’t straight and smooth.  Darkness is pouring across the dashboard and she’s holding on to the holy-shit handles above the door.
Was her demeanor all a show?  Was the tough as shit girl who didn’t give a flying fuck about anything merely what she flaunted in front of the guys on Friday nights?  Was she actually just a scared little pussycat?  Well, you were gonna find out weren’t you?

“Sorry, if ya can’t handle it I can back it up and we can go park somewhere.”

Grenade.

She was silent for a minute.  It was as long as a person could stretch sixty seconds out without it becoming a full ten.  Then you heard her belt unbuckle.

“If we’re gonna do this we ain’t usin’ no pussy belts.”

She reached over and undid yours as well.  The belts flung up into resting position and she looked at you, eyes piercing with a smile.

“Go get it stuck.”

The words were fuel in your veins.  You practically floored it.  You did floor it for a few seconds.  Dirt and mud spit out from underneath and behind and painted the sides of the truck.  It looked better that way.
“The only thing a paint job on a truck is good for is lettin’ you know where you missed.”
Your daddy was a country boy through and through and you were gonna do him proud tonight.

Your head was swiveling to her.  The smile on her face was beaming in the moonlight.  Then you saw where you were on the path and yelled to her.

“Fuck!  Quick.  Roll up that window!”

Her hands dipped down to the handle and cranked it furiously.  Just as the right side of the car dipped into a hole the size of Biloxi her window was all the way up and coated in a thick brown sludge.  She smiled your way with a laugh and you smiled back.  Days couldn’t get better than this night.

“You got a rabbit foot on ya?  Another second and you woulda been covered.”

She shook her head from side to side, “maybe you’ll find out later.”

Later couldn’t come soon enough.  The truck was jumping and jerking.  She was sent flying up a couple of times.  A few more she slid all the way across the bench into you.  She didn’t bother sliding back until gravity decided to give you another cock block and pushed her to her side of the cab.
It was like a ride at Disneyland that people paid a fortune for, but turned up to eleven.

“Why the fuck you wanna go to Disneyland boy?  We got an amusement park right outside and it only takes deisel,” he always used to say.  Don’t ever fuck with a man and his truck.  There’s a reason country singers rank it up their with their women and their dogs.

You were almost at the end of the path.  The woods opened up to a lake on the other side.  Some people say there’s a gator living in it eating all the fish and that’s why nobody ever goes down here anymore.  Your daddy thinks they’re full of shit.  That its just rich people trying to make locals lose interest so they can swoop in and buy it and sell it off as prime real estate.  He makes sure to keep this path plenty eaten up to let’m know there’s still interest.

“What’s that?”  She said, pointing ahead at a set of lights.

“Another truck?  I don’t know,” you pull to a stop and listen to the engine flex its muscles in the night.  Not a bird, raccoon or anything can be heard for quite a distance with the way its humming.

The truck continues to approach.  It isn’t stopping.  You’re going to have to move and let them through but there isn’t anywhere to back into.  The tree line is thick and its dark.  She turns to you.

“You gonna back up?  Or you gonna make’m move?”

You look her way.  The path is cleared of brush overhead and the moonlight is catching her body.  The headlights from the other truck are shining on her face.  Her blonde ponytail held high on her head is so cute.  You want to see what it looks like tumbled down her shoulders while she’s pressed up against you.

You don’t say a word and start forward.  Your headlights meeting theirs, blinding you both from seeing who is in the other truck.  You just head forward at them, faster then they are for you.  The fifty yards closing quick.  Nobody is giving.  Your daddy is going to fucking kill you.

“Okay!  Stop!”  She yells out, gripping on the holy-shit handle again and curling up in the  seat to brace herself.  It’s too late for the belt.  It’s too late to stop, you’re going too fast and there’s no grip in the mud.

The other truck blares its horn.  You hear faint yelling.  Something along the lines of, “what the fuck,” as they veer off and swipe a tree on your left.  The tails of the two trucks clang against each other and send sparks into the air.  You keep going as they stop dead in their tracks until you lose them around a bend.

“What the hell was that?!”  She says to you coming down from a panic.

“That?  You asked.  I made’m move.”

“Yeah but, you ain’t afraid they gonna come find you and tell you what?”

You shook your head, “nah.  I know the rules.  Any dumb fuck crazy enough to do some shit like that you don’t wanna find at the end of it.”

She sat back in the seat and threw out a, “mmhmm,” again.  You kept on driving until the path ended, the night fell and the moon was dancing on the water.  You pulled the truck up along the water’s edge and killed the engine.

“So, Friday night.  Better than the parking lot?”

You could finally take your eyes off the windshield and lean against your door and catch a good glimpse of her.  She was composed.  Her sly grin was back.  Her feet were back on the dash tempting you to lean forward again.

“Uh huh.  Little bit.  More exciting anyways.  What’re we doing now?  This it?”

You smiled through a bit of panic.  You didn’t think about anything else.  You figured you’d come down here by the water, sit in the cab or the bed and make out.  The how to get there part never materialized.  Although everything to this point has been so out of the ordinary you figured why not push it further.

“Well I figured we’d see about that rabbits foot.”

She dropped her head and bit her lip to keep from smiling then raised her eyes and looked at you, “come look for it then.”

The trucks engine was cooling but the hood was still hot to the touch.  It had been put in overdrive to get down to the lake and add in a little game of chicken, it needed a rest.  The night was warm and with the engine off for long enough the animals felt safe to come out to hoot and holler in the darkness.  Even with all the clattering in the trees nearly everything was still except for the slight rocking of the truck as the windows fogged up.  It was going to take a while to see out of them again when they decided to finally stop.  They went and got themselves proper stuck.