On the Road.

Tiny drumbeats on an olive canvas floating down a river of coffees, from sea to swamp. I miss my hair and the way it kept the rain from my eyes, dripping upon my lips with the taste of clouds and leather instead. Who knows why. Now it storms down upon me, pattering across scalp and cheeks. The birds chatter as they shower from branches overhanging tannin stained roadways with depths unmatched by man-made lanes. Fuck the signs and dashed lines that followed suit I want lawlessness. I want freedom and truth. Am I strong or has domestication given me the illusion of strength? The trailing edge of the paddle slips from the calm waters into a battlefield of dumb bombs and bullets that shatter fragile skies , even if for a brief moment. The river drips from the plastic propeller, craving to leave such a ferocious environment back to its muffled mansion for dead leaves and relics of ages past. It’s had its fill of war. They all have. I crave the conflict and keep moving as if in a trance. I match the pace of nature’s snare. Heaven is hidden-we beasts are too shameless to watch as we carelessly kill, fuck, and drive ourselves to madness. Doesn’t bother me one fucking bit. Shadow puppets held by swaying arms cast their story upon the impact area below, distorted and fleeting images followed by the voice of god-what a fitting narrator-scenes of mass murder, angry and merciless soldiers raining down on the willing and unwilling. The fearful and the nihilists. I can’t relate. I move on in to a void on planet earth. The trees entrenched and intertwined above and below. I am in the womb. The waters narrow and all light escapes me, the sounds of the outside world fall on deaf ears and as I start to feel soft sand gracing the underbelly of my vessel I decide to walk onward, leaving all else behind. The ground sinks and hugs the soles of promiscuous feet. Palm fronds run their fingers cross my arms and chest. They whisper, “Don’t go”, but I must! It is my one and only wish to be reborn in the fertile waters of this all-knowing, forever flowing cunt. I stop as I feel a solution of sand and piercing cold water tickle the arch of my right foot. The end must be approaching. Who knew? My next few steps land me smack dab middle of a massive crater for quicksand and spring currents. Not Nobodies. In the darkness I felt for a bottom while fear and fine soot engulfed my body. The ground is going to eat me. The solution rushed from a bunker of limestone grabbing ahold of my shoulders and ankles. I sank to its soul and closed my eyes. If I were a fish I was eaten, if I were an alligator I was eaten, if I were human I’d have laughed until my lungs filled with water and sand. Thank God I’m Nothing and Nowhere, none of that shit really applies. Phew.

Toro y Lechuza

ONCE UPON A TIME....





There was a toro.

A toro who, in his free-time, liked to drink hard liquor and wander around in life harrassing everyone he crossed. He'd throw bottles at babies, chuck bats at old ladies, and steal candy from the corner store(which he was very good at, I might add).

His evil deeds went on and on, starting on the day he left the prison walls of a chinese torture facility(back in '06), to his untimely demise...
But we'll get to that later.

Toro had no friends. People didn't like his drunken banter, nor did they like getting whomped by bats or pelted with candy poo. Toro had lost hope in people, and himself. He had become the person he hated most,





Barbara
Streisand.

Toro woke up one day, hating life more than usual, and decided he wanted to die. He dreamt a super stylized suicide like it came straight outta Hollywood-or Afghanistan-either way, it was of super-epicness proportions. Atleast in his mind, ofcourse. He had it in his lil toro head that he was gonna stuff himself with as much nitro glycerin he could steal from the army men, run from their tanks and stealth airplanes, throw a noose over a tree in a quaint neighborhood park (disguised as a pinata, no less), and let the kids whack away. then they'd all go boom. Toro sighed in satisfaction as it played over in his head. No doubt Toro wasn't doing too good. Some might suggest he go see a therapist, but Toro would never hear of such things. He'd just scream and hack and scream some more in his dizzy stupor.

So as Toro started writing the last hate letter to Ms. Streisand, a knock sounded from his door.
Toro rose from the chair and turned to face this surprising distraction.
"...Toro? TOROTOROTORO!!!" screamed the bewildered little toro.
The knocks did not stop.
Toro, thinking that maybe there really were people that read minds for a living and that they had found out about his master plan, started teeter-tottering back and forth. Were they now here to take him back to his old dungeon abode? He shuttered at the thought. Toro stumbled about trying to burn all the evidence of his illegible scribblings in mureeka's fishbowl. mureeka didn't mind too much since Toro thought fish just ate their own poo-like he did. As he continued to stuff the little blazing bowl, his door opened enough for a beak to peak in.
"whoooOOOoo?" an eerie woman's voice called out.
"....TORO?!?"
"WHOOOO!"
"TORO!"
Toro had not noticed but...
He was on fire, and not like denzel...in that one movie, but really REALLY on fire.
Toro teetered and tottered some more, until his mysterious guest flew over him like a rescue copter and hosed him down with a bucket of mop water.
Toro now sighed in relief and looked up at his new found friend-his only friend in the whole wide world-and thought to himself, "Love..."

So from then on it was no longer Toro, drunk and alone; it was Toro and Lechuza, living free and together.
It's all they needed.
It's all they wanted.
Toro gave up the liqour, random violence, and forgot all about his Hollywood post-mortem movie deals.

Remember how I said Toro died? Yeah, well, That part's comin'.






So after a much needed visit to the optometrist(for the longest time
Toro couldn't tell the difference between tequila and olive oil),





Toro y Lechuza decided to head on over to the local REDBOX to rent a nice movie to cuddle to.





They arrived outside the HEB down the street, wondering what fantastiful movies
were held for them inside that fabulous red box.





Unfortunately, there was a line. So Toro waited patiently, and took a seat on the bench.





HURRAY! HUZZAH! The moment had arrived. It was time to make a selection.
After clicking through many of the different titles, Toro came to a conclusion on what he would pick: nothing. Everything was either about dane cook being a manslut and changing his ways or an 80 foot anadoo (half anaconda, half dugong or manatee or whatever the fuck it's called).





Toro felt a familiar heat rage through his veins.
A heat that built in his heart and whizzed out his ears.
A heat that fueled a fire that spread like buttered butt cheeks.





As Toro's returning anger flooded his mind, he glanced over at Lechuza, sitting peacefully in the truck.
Toro collected himself and got his head right. After all, he had love! They didn't need no stinking movie.
Once again Toro was a happy-go-lucky little toro. He loved babies, old ladies, and even retards.





And with that he headed to his sweet pookums, awaiting his embrace.





Then a Ford Explorer ran Toro over.

The End.

chrono-synclastic infundibulum

Woke up with a foot on my chest.
Wheres my clothes?

wheres my clothes?
who are you?
an amused admirer.

Her eyes pierced and pryed as she held me down, the dirt grinding into my chest, releasing its earthy aroma. the wormhole of fast paced greens didn't seem to distract her at all.

where...are we?
home. don't you recognize it? don't you recognize me?

Toes were dug into my ribs, as if I were an ash tray to put out her fire. I grabbed the skinny soot stained ankle and sent it up, up, up-

AHHHHHHHHHHHHOOWOOP! -WHY'D JOODO THAT?!

I sit up and realize what planet I'm on. The trees burn and ripple in the wind, showing off their best dance for a rarely present audience.

do you really have to ask such a stupid question?
YOU'RE AN ASS!
you're an idiot, but I'm still likin' the fact we're naked.
SHUT UP!
what time is it?
I'm not talking to you anymore.
okay. who'r you going to talk to then?
maybe I'll find some squirrels or oppossums that'll show me a bit of respect?
...you've got leaves in your hair.
so? maybe I like them there? they smell nice.
you're weird. really weird.

Her cheeks were riping tomatoes, showered with a coat of dirt that covered pale breasts and a growling stomach.

I'm sorry, I was just kidding. you hungry?
...yeah.
well, why don't we see if we can't find something to eat?
I already ate all the blue berries... and the grapes.
wait. we have food?
...did-I was hungryyy!
its okay. you're the one that's starving.

I surveyed the halls and walkways, a natural orchard of social giants that we seemed to be dropped in the middle of.

all I see is rows and rows of trees in every direction...
its funny.
what is?
this. the fact that you ignore me, and your home.
what the hell do you keep talking about? I thought we were looking for food?
you just don't get it. we've been here before, you and I and everyone, everything that exists and will.
what do you mean, everything that exists and will?
what do you want right now?
honestly?
obviously.
well, you-I feel oddly comfortable and completely aware of how rediculous that is-this can't be real-
where'd you just get that?

There in her hand, grasped firmly as she studied its texture, was an apple. Crimson to vanilla as she bit into it.

isss kwite gud, yuh knoww.
where'd that come from?
uhhh-uh. I just know its tastyyyy. wanna bite?
this isn't real. it can't be.
how do you define real, boy? from senses? if every experience of a touch is a memory, how do you know that it isn't a figment of your mind?
because I am touching something now. that is present time-it isn't a memory.
now it is.
that doesn't make any sense!
neither do you.

I close my eyes and plop on the ground. The ants scurry along my base and along my toes. I forget my surroundings and concentrate on the anxiety of the moment-are the damned things gonna bite me or what?

...are you okay?
leave me alone.
now look who's the pouty one...

The smell of oak and cinammon invades as her hair brushes up against my forehead.

I don't even like tomatoes.
HUH?
and cinammon is completely overrated.
what-
if you're some kind of, like, part of my subconscious then why are you, you? why aren't your boobs bigger? why-
SHUT UP! I. AM NOT. A DREAM. I am real, thank youuuuu, and THERE IS NOTHING WRONG with my cup size.
I didn't say there was, I was just pointing out that-
you are the dream, boy.
whuh?
you are a part of my mind's creation. you know as much as I do and your history, likes, dislikes, personality, all of it that you are aware of is only as much as I've begun to spin. you are my clothes to wear. to keep me safe and keep me warm. you are all I want and need. do you understand? you won't accept it because I won't let you. so, its okay.
you really are crazy.
you lost your virginity at sixteen.
nope.
yup.
lucky guess.
women hate you.
well that much can be assumed by our interaction so far...
your father died at somepoint, I haven't decided when yet, so ofcourse you don't even remember when...
how-
hmmm... what else... oh you're obsessed with gerbils, chinchillas, and the like.
how did you know about my dad?
you really are thick. I told you. you are what I want you to be. an ass, an underdog, a rebel, a liar, a slacker, a coward. you're human, the way I see it. just the way I like it.
if I'm not real, how can I be human?
come on now, human is a term that transcends species. its on par with the likes of a god. you don't have to be tangible to be human. infact, I think the best ones are those of dream and fiction. and all your percieved feelings and senses are past interaction based upon my experiences. now do you see?
your back doesn't hurt?
nope.
you've been like that for a while.
NOPE. nope.  nope. shut up.

Her nose was pressed against mine, radio transmissions were passed from pupil to pupil. From smile to whisp to breast to kiss, my peripheral had become a blur. A drugged-like state of heavenly smells and tastes brought on by a peace embedded into my essence. She finally sat down infront of me and took my hands.

everything's gonna be okay now, you'll guard our coconuts till the end of time.
cos I'm your spacewhore?
cos I'm your spacewhore.

Parallax Error

I wake in a haze of hungry lips and cigarette smoke.
The foul air within our molding sepulchre stains the walls of my lungs.
An angel bows over my open tomb,
her marriage to religion stronger than a covalence that law has created.
I feel firm breasts pressed against my ribs-she sighs as violent a reaction;
Avarice precipitates from such an event.
speaking through the venomous fog, I whisper through pursed lips
“why are you deploying? “
The gates open but vigilant guards give a mute judgment that screams reluctance.
“do we have to talk about this right now? Its not something I wanna think about. Lets just enjoy the time we have.”
“you’re a coward, Kayla.”
“what the fuck?”
She raises above me, her prayers straddle metaphysical and concrete unions-such a duality shall not be tolerated.
“You know what, you should just go. I don’t need this shit right now-how could you even say that to me? I’m gonna be stuck in that fucking hellhole for twelve months.”
“but you’re CHOOSING to, that’s my point! Why the fuck are you going? You don’t love him.”
The skies roar as storms entrench. the gates shake as they are braced by the armies of Valhalla.
Will they strike down my naked sin?
“Do you know how hard this is? I fucking love you, but what the fuck? How can you expect me to just let my whole life fucking fall apart just for what YOU want? I know, no matter what, your lies will never stop.”
I am exiled from the thought of entering her plane. These tears are my crucifixion, for I am always the catalyst of the carnival.
“why don’t you trust me? I love you.”
“no you don’t! you fucking lie and lie and cheat. that’s all you fucking do and I just put up with it. I’m not gonna lose the only thing I have left.”
“you know what you fear most. And you know what feeds those loving hands.”
“shut the fuck up. I’m not scared of you anymore-I know you.”
Dumb, I have become. Only for a moment am I in disarray.
“this cant be real. You would never understand that.”
“and you’ll never understand this.”

My eyes open and I’m surprised to see Brittney next to me.
I slide from under her grasp, careful not to wake her.
What is happening to me? What the fuck is going on?
The mirror has no response for me today.
I look down at my hands, grasping desperately to the counter.
My arms are shaking.
walking out of the bathroom, I make my way to the apartment window.
I murmur, “looks like its gonna rain again today.”
My stare does not break from the foliage.
Their bark has turned blue but the leaves are black and matted with blood.
The air is stirred from the music between sheets and skin.
“I love you.”
A smile breaks my concentration; I turn to face a beautiful distraction.
“I see you decided to finally wake up.”
“I had a dream about you, ya know.”
“oh really? What happened?”
“I’ll tell you after you fix me breakfast, dearest.”
Her wit and cunning amuses me acutely.
I leap at the chance to rebel.
“AHHHHHHHHHH-GREG!”
As graceful as an earthquake, I land and quickly embrace her cheeks with open palms.
“I’ve missed your sass while you slept.”
“I bet you did-now make me pancakes?”
“only if you’ll let me cover you with aunt jemima”
“that sounds kinky, but I keep imagining you trying to stick me to something…so, no.”
“whatevz.”
I stand high above her, my feet sinking into the soft mattress.
I offer my hand and she accepts.
“lets go make those pancakes.”
“hah.”
“and by the way,”
I hold those cold hands close and send my thanks through seemingly smooth edges.
“I love you too.”
its truly beyond me.

Texas W-4

her demeanor is pressed upon the pores of a valley, listening to the echoes that ring to the bottoms of wells. a vast array that telepathically communicates admiration. vibrations escape the tunnel of her opera, making the hairs stand on end.

you are back.
or am I? a blindfold has presented itself in a manner most degrading, but seemingly trivial. who cares. what matters is what we feel.

what do we feel.

my sun gleams in and across the dew spread between worlds.
her light magnifies through the looking glass of our retrospective.
a war waiting to start. we know the end, but not the means.

"hmmm, I've missed you."
"I've missed you too."
"you still don't love me, do you?"
"wh-what?", her question came as a wave of terror-hopefully not visible upon my face.
"I always knew, you know-that there was someone else-there had to be. you always seemed to be so dazed with-"
"I love you."
"you don't mean that, greg. you never-", my foot found its way to her face; her playful screams and laughs alleviated the weight upon my chest. the torture was over.
"brittany, I've been so preoccupied chasing after ghosts that never existed. I was wrong-listen to me," my hand-feet take hold of her face. she smiles.
so beautiful. that smile, that unique tic of unwarranted veracity and elegance.
she seems so innocent and fluid to me, "I love you but have always been too scared to embrace it-too unsure of its lifespan to give you comfort in my words. I just didn't want to be hurt-I was being selfish."
"its okay, I understand. I've felt that way before, but never with you. I just want you to know that you make me happy and I don't need anything else, I love you."
"hmmm."
ho-hum.
her smile rises above the horizon. in this moment. it fuels what i need.

no more.

everything is falling apart.

everyone.
those I see, touch, and know are crumbling in between the minutes-I'm so tired of searching through every moment to reconstruct. brittany is gone. breezes picked up and dispersed the ashes. nothing left to rub on gritted teeth. nothing left to fuel the rage. life's image has revealed itself to me on a cross. hung out for those to make a mockery of-and for me-to feel nothing. there is no love, nor dreams worth fighting to preserve, only lies. self preservation and self interest. living for myself reminds me how much I despise who I am-and everyone who cherishes it... or atleast pretends. you are there, lying in bed alone in his arms. which reality is truth? the seemingly false letters streaming from smooth lips? or the fact that you let him inside-where its been said only I belong?
both? that seems like a bullshit answer you'd give.
mother fucker. when I see you, it won't matter. it won't last.

this cigarette burns too fast.
the ashes flutter like flak in a war torn starry sky. gleaming death falls upon my thigh.
fuck, it stings. a scar-a plea-a reminder of times passed wasting away to burning down the memories sunk gracefully to the bottom of an oil slick body of bodies of bodies.when will I look up from this painful reverie?
my feet know best, they always serve as a trustworthy guide.
walk, walk, walk, just-just no more talk.

American Idol

Ghosts of tired delusions stain the bed sheets. I can taste the salts in my mouth. It makes me want it more. Want to peer through my face? We can all take a closer look. A circus masquerade, a fitting freak show for my captive audience.

Do it. Fucking do it. Recoil operated words will pierce though this mirrored image of disgust. Got greasy palms from holding my head too long-suppose these worn finger tips of mine might slip upon the trigger? A memetic inheritance shall leak through my eyes, mouth, nose, and ears. Subconscious scripts of viral information will run rampant through your system of absolutes and discrepancies. sleep and routine will never cease to be tainted with impermanence.

A pardon from this paradox? Never.

Body parts strewn across your perfect breasts; blood pools around iris barriers, fighting maelstrom force waves from entering the gates to a world full of hatred, hunger, and fury.

My mind is a run on sentence run on moment run on life that won’t end too late too soon. Today is not the day. Your steel is warm now; my ferrous clenched hands have met your welcome half way. I don’t think you’ll see the light of day for a while.

Cut cold from a date soiled by holy urine and pepper spray, I think this won’t feel that bad. The skies hold hues from false gods and millions dead. I see their faces as my worn shoes tread this ground. Sorry for not saying hello, everybody.

Feet kept in line, in step, I’m fine. Really am. The grass bows and wilts under the unforgiving sun and its suppressing army of solar radiation and gusts of terror. Rain on me, fuckers, I don’t care; cancer for the mind, for the sole, for the lord.

Why won’t it end?

The music is playing in her eyes and it’s eating my insides to the tune of a chemical melody. Every note strikes chords with the monotonous beat of my heart.

Stop harmonizing.

Sacrifice your blood for the sake of mankind-for me. Mix this sheet of predictable behaviors, please. I take my stride to a different cadence; every day, every lifetime-a reincarnation of our sins and ripping seams. Time to retire this old thing-old life; old line. Maybe it’s TIME to live by another cheesy quote. Words that don’t belong to me-or you, or anyone alive.

This walk seems to never end. I guess that’s how it goes without a proper destination. Aimlessly through this desert of skeletons, I’ll hide my pride in a sea of sand. Here and there, I’ll bury it shallow; the caving walls prevent anything further. I don’t have anything left; I’ve been stripped bare. I’ll take your pills and empty advice-keep me sedated, keep me alright. Make me whole? I’ll pay the price. She won’t come back, I fucked up more times than I’d like. The guilt is here and the pain won’t subside. My mistakes and fears will never settle. I’ve got the solution but no time to divulge. Goodbye, goodnight, sad settlers of this instant-I’ve got a date to entertain; a needle for my veins.

fuckin afghans.

this dream hasn't been clear in over a week.
"hey, you wanna go for a ride?"
"on your bike?"
"no, in your car. smartass."
"where to?"
"we'll see, I guess. wanna see if clara wants to come?"
"you sure?"
"yeah."
"okay."
I can hear the currents flowing. the rocks refusing to give way. I don't want to be made smooth, don't shear my rough edges.
she talks with such enthusiasm, how could she when I'm around? its surprising how anyone can sustain my eradic personality.
"you ready?"
"hold on."
I take the rest of my uniform off and reach for my shorts. she comes to me.
"you are a gift."
"what?"
"you are a gift."
"why do you say that?"
"I just feel like-I don't really appreciate you as much as I should. you do alot for me."
"I love you, greg."
I kiss her cold lips and slide my shorts on. her eyes drift else where, to a corner of the room.
"you okay?"
"yeah, I'm just thinking."
"should I call the MPs?"
"NO. shut up."
"come on. lets go-is clara coming or not?"
she sighs and looks down at my shoes, kicking them over to me
"yeah, she's gonna meet us out front."
the locker door seals. my woes are safe from sunshine.
we make our way down the all too familiar steps and walk the all too familiar path to the lot. clara is waiting in her car, with a baffled look on her face.
"where we goin?"
"good question, ask him."
"we're taking you're car then, I'm not using MY gas."
I can't stand that fucking girl-she gets on my nerves more than any other. although, she fills empty space quite well, with that mouth that never ceases.
"so olsen, where we goin?"
"you know, you can call me by my first name."
"I know. olsen."
"forget it. britt, just drive towards the wash rack-"
"why are we going there?"
"WE AREN'T. I just-just drive."
the red lights were bipolar fits of rage, involving a pattern of fluctuations between clara's annoying voice and lil wayne's. sometimes it seemed to fit.
we headed out the gate and the flowers ran at our sides.
I roll down the window and hang myself to dry. I can see her smiling, and I can smell them replying.
"so olsen, any idea where we're going yet?"
"yep."
"where, babe?"
"I'll tell you when to stop."
"oh my god. I HATE when you do this-please don't expect me to slam on my brakes like that trip to pet smart."
"don't worry, I'll give you fair warning."
the turns fill my head and the hills overwhelm my heart. I wish you could see this.
we pass a truck on the side of the road.
"STOP!"
"what?!"
"STOP STOP STOP!!"
she pulls over after we pass a small bridge-I can tell she's agitated. oops.
"I TOLD YOU NOT TO DO THAT."
"I'm sorry?"
"IS IT THE RIVER? THAT WERE YOU WANTED TO GO?"
"mhm."
"WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST TELL ME?!"
"because! I wanted it to be a surprise! its more exciting."
I can hear clara laughing over brittany's persistent wailing. it makes me forget how frustrated she really is.

I get out of the car cautiously, watching for passing trucks. I make my way along the outside of the guard rail and down the grassy hills. I can hear it past the trees.
"where are you going?!"
"just come here!"
"wait!"
they carefully trot behind me, daintily and calculating each step-it makes me laugh.
"what?"
"nothing, you're just fucking cute."
"...I know."
she smiles and her eyes glow with the tree's new leaves.
the sun drips.
her gaze fills my mind as we head towards the roaring waters.
I wonder if she'd enjoy this? would she do this with me? would I be any happier? just stop thinking.
I come to a halt before I can even pass the trees. its a drop of about 15 feet; don't think we'll be going down this way...
"what's wrong?"
"um.. we can't get down this way."
"why not?"
"look for yourself."
I miss your fragrance, girl.
"holy shit, thats high."
"we can just walk down underneath the bridge."
"okay."
its steep concrete, and the tension is high. get out of my fucking head.
"GREG. WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?"
"I don't wanna get your car wet."
I sit with my feet in the water, as I pull my clothes off.
"PUT THEM BACK ON."
"no."
"yes."
"make me."
clara watches as brittany follows me into the creek. I walk backwards and taunt her with my shorts above my head.
"GREG. PUT THEM BACK ON."
"no."
she falls over constantly from the awkward surface and the rush of cold water. I run up on shore and throw my clothes on a log.
"greeeeeeeeeeeeg! please put them back on."
I carefully make my way in and get clara from the other side,; she gets on my shouders and laughs.
"thanks, I really didn't know I'd need a bathing suit."
"you don't!"
"nah, I'm good. people can see you, yah know."
"I don't care."
as I'm watching my footing I look up. fuck.
"you don't wanna wear clothes like normal people, asshole? well then."
FUCK. DON'T.
"FETCH."
she winds back and I can't help but react. I release clara from my grips and drop her in. she screams. I trudge through the waters and start swimming after my fleeing garments. thankfully, they were caught by a branch.
"YOU ASSHOLE. OH MY GOD. I can't believe you threw me!"
"I didn't throw you, clara."
"oh my god-yes, you did."
brittany laughs and I smile. we have good times, but for some reason, when I look up from my own two feet, all I can do is wish you're here. why is that? maybe roseanne barr will appear in a vision.
apparently she holds many answers.

smokescreen opera

I love you, she said.
“I love you and don’t worry, you’ll be fine…I’ll be home soon enough, okay baby?”
She wraps her lips around me and looks up.
“okay. I love you too, it’s just that- I just wish I coulda came with you.”
I’m the only one coming, you idiot.
“mmmmhm-I know baby. I gotta go, baby-Clara needs me.”
I shoved my dick in her mouth in between those broken sentences. She said goodnight and hung up before he could reply, I pulled her head back and came onto her freckled cheek. She smiled.
“mmmmm baby, I love it when you come on my face. I love your taste.”
“hmmp.”
Fucking slut.
“Can we take a shower now?”
“Greg.”
“what?”
“I loooove youuuuu.”
“I love you too, now can we wash the sex off? I smell like straight up vagina.”
she giggles as the come drips off her chin.
“okay, baby.”
He drifted along her words for so long. He never wants to fall, but doesn’t even realize that’s what he’s been doing since she said yes. Michael didn’t make her feel wanted, but he gave her the security she craved-a feeling of control-the fact that she can create a relationship. A public performance for everyone to witness. An act that she can take a break from whenever she feels. He loves her and will never leave. Brittany told me he’s never even so much as kissed another girl before. He reminds me of myself from another time.

Kind of sad. I remember when we went to Corpus Christi and she told him that her mother was sick. He wanted to come with her, but she had said that it was best if she went alone. In reality her parents didn’t even stay there in the winter. We went down there and fucked in every possible nook and cranny. She lies to him so much, but doesn’t keep anything from me. I used to think it was because she wasn’t afraid to lose me. I’ve since come to believe that she knows that she never had me. He, on the other hand, has this beautiful story that’s told to him every night before he lays his head to rest-she loves him and wants to be with him forever-It puts his weary head at rest and puts a smile on his face. She so desperately wants that to make her happy. She wants to be passionate about something. Someone. She just can’t.
I hope I don’t end up like that. Passion is what fuels us to transcend the boundary we create for ourselves. These days it seems to be a scarce resource…

so here's your spectacular send off.

Hours, minutes, seconds. Every moment that passes by is not recognized.
I am stressed, weary, and confused. So unsure of everything I believe and trust.
It’s just so fucking hard to rely on anything these days-even my own convictions, it seems...
Fuck it. I’m getting out of here.
It’s bad when the door seems so much freer from the inside. Maybe I need help? No time. Got to leave.
I take my bag and walk past the sink, but something catches my attention. I backtrack and stare into my empty eyes, through the mirror and past the drywall. I’m alive. I think. I grab my notepad-shove it in my bag.

“This should be it.”

Everything seems ready-I know I am. Slip my shoes on and slide past the door. Instantly the winter breeze nips at my legs and fingertips. I don’t mind though; soon enough I’ll be in the passenger seat of a car, just trying to ignore the numbing sensation of my ass.
As I come to the bottom of the stairs, I notice Brittany waiting for me; her smile is warm and I can feel it on my face.

“You got everything; clothes, deodorant, toothbrush…condoms?”
“I got everything”
“you-”
“yeah, let’s just go.”

Corpus Christi. I’m pretty sure that’s where Selena was from...I hope the gulf is as beautiful as this bitch makes it out to be. I need a distraction.
I help Brittany put her things in the back of her Kia, while she blabbers on about how she wishes I would drive half the way. Fuck that. I’m already a liar, don’t want to add death to my conscience’s piling list of issues…

“Wanna stop to get somethin to eat?”
Drive, bitch.
“Well?”
“Nah, I’m good, babe. Can we just get a move on? I don’t wanna get there too late.”
“Well, I’m hungry. I’m just gonna stop at the shopette to get something and buy gas, okay?”

Sigh. The next time she masks her own desires for a concern I’m going to drive-right into a wall. I hate how you get to know some people and it just seems to be a burden.

We pull up and park. She leaves the keys in the ignition, to my surprise, and steps out into the clusterfuck. I wait impatiently, wondering what she’ll end up buying. Did she really believe I brought condoms? Let alone any other thing that would lead to her on top of me… I hope so.
I see her hair flicker in the sun as she exits out the shopette. She is a beautiful girl, but nothing more. She catches my stare and meets it with contentment.
Opening the door and throwing the bag into the back, she sits down and looks at me.

“I love you.”
I smile a fake smile and meet her half way.
“I love you too, baby. Now, can we GO NOW?”
“Mmmhm!”

About two hours in, my butt cheeks got to the point of predicted numbness.
I ignore her texts. I turn off my phone.
Fuck. This could be worse; she could be talking to me. That’s one thing I do appreciate about Brittany, no problem with silences.
As we kept passing the same monotonous scenery, I came to ponder out loud-big mistake.

“Could everything we live be a painting that is changing instantaneously?”
“…WWWHAT?”
“ Time, as we perceive it, could just be an illusion of what happens to only be one moment-where everything is and always has been. Maybe there is no real differentiation between me and the seat I appear to be sitting at in this very moment. “
“what ar-“
“And god-what if god is this moment? This moment that has no definite beginning or end. That everything we see, hear, know, want, touch, love, hate, deny, embrace is god.
Not a being. No deity, but this. “
“Uhhhhh-“
“God is a product of our observations and reactions to those observations. We may never know what fuels our reality because it is nothing but a part of ourselves-of an all encompassing, singular moment that we cannot look outside of. God is this epic poem of explanations, and excuses for the unknown, that we call life.”
“Wow, Greg. Where the hell did all that come from? I swear you have the most random fucking thoughts.”
She chuckles. I want to fucking hurt her so bad.
“Where’s my note…pad…”
“Well, where’d you put your bag, Einstein?”
“Will you shut the fuck UP?”
“What the fuck is your problem? I’m just playing with you; I swear sometimes you act really fucking weird.”

Silence. Finally.

Myyy-realityyy-is-yourrrsss-it's-just-changinggg-too-fassst-for-us-to-rrrealize.
There; all written down in the volumes of my yellow paper. Most of my thoughts are fleeting, I either have to write or draw if I want to hold onto them.

Brittany and I don’t exchange words for a while. Minutes pass us by; they disappear in the rearview mirror. After about an hour, I apologize for what I said. She didn’t say anything back, just kinda smirked and put her hand on mine. I felt better.

It took five and a half lifetimes to get to this fucking city. I can’t feel my legs-or my bladder. It seems I have aged 60 years in a matter of hours…hmmn. What a predicament. Brittany is stressing over the directions to her parent’s rental home. I’m just laying back, staring at the fluorescent lights. I can still remember what they look like from above-fucking beautiful.
Damn, I miss her.

We pull up to a small home, opposite to the gulf. I jump out and stare out at the whispering darkness. I feel the cool moist air and it livens my spirit.

“Let’s go walk on the beach.”
I miss you.
“Greeeeeg, I’m tirrrreddd. We can spend the whole morning on the beach, can’t we just go inside and lay down?”
I need you, baby.
“Sure.”
“Kay, I love you.”
I followed behind her, through the door way, and planted right into her arms.
“I thought you were tired?”
“Yeah, but I’m also horny.”
Her tongue slid passed my lips and I pull back.
“We gotta get up early, baby, can’t it wait?”
“Are you serious right now? A minute ago you were all ready to go out and explore, and now you don’t even wanna put your fucking cock in me? It’s not like it would take you long anyways…”
“You wanna be fucked, baby?”
I hate you.
“Mhmmm.”
You are not human.
“Fine.”

I picked her up and met her lips with mine. Pushing her against the bathroom door and manipulating the head to the side-I pull my puppet’s strings every which way and as hard as I please. She doesn’t mind. After all, she wants to be abused. Wants to be powerless.
I hate her.
She whispers against my neck. She wants to be fucked.
I carry her to the couch and throw her down. As I unzip my pants, she sits up and explores what lies underneath my shirt. My clothes come off. Hers follow.
This night will be a charade.

Maybe it’s me who’s not human.