Does this mean you owe me?
So it's one to one on the count, who is keeping score anyway. Wow, this guy is a head case. Self-centered rock star type. You know the type.
Kit is on the bed and she's guided by the light and she will not look away. That is her salvation, that's how she prays. Sometimes she goes up on hind legs and she looks like some other creature, half-Pan, a quarter horse, a quarter something reptilian that I do not know. Always moving, never surrendering. Always operating with that part of the brain that I just can't get to anymore. Making a contract now, body please obey. Listen to me and be good. Do as I say. Don't be bad to us any longer. Stop feeling pain. Just obey. One, two, three times a week. Every day a week. My body will listen. I will WILL it to listen. I will make it respond.
They said the way to make it a real book was to craft a dramatic arc. As it stands, there isn't any. I asked the right questions, I suppose, to trigger such a responce. Maybe in my mind I was just so good -- so good subconsciously -- that I knew it would not work. It would not float. The work was there but the threads were not tight enough. Not a big enough patch to hold it all together. He was wearing those worn out jeans. Instinctively, I looked to the crotch. I could not help it. It was reassure to recognize that those were his favorites, the ones I had patched.
Digging because alone we are not sure what the worth. Tell you a story about a teacher, but they are not all givers. Someone has to be the hammer-type, someone has to be the anvil.
The first time someone used that word on her, passive, she wondered if by definition that meant you always liked the bottom. And if you didn't it wasn't true. But maybe by definition it just means you like to be told, top or bottom. Maybe it does not mean "inactive" so much as "canvaslike." That does not mean blank, per se, sometimes it means you are more visible only after the pigment has been applied. Brought to the surface. Pinked, purpled and blackened. More vibrant, more alive.
It was beyond the point anyway. You want an open drama and a cul de sac kind of a fight. The sort you can drive around for hours in, arguing semantics. I don't think I want to drive that way. I went to driver's ed. I was a much better driver to start. Never had to use the emergency blinkers, until the city. And then, well, then it was never for an emergency, it was just to sit and idle because we could not find a place to park. Overprivileged/educated brats got it bad. Waiting to get their hands on the means of production, just to be told, Go sit in the car. I don't have the patience for you anymore, but I do have the silence. Get your own damn Frappuccino latte lite, I quit.
The lower lower part of the island isn't so sandy anymore. And the small seedier circuits shut down for a few years, but believe you me, they are starting up again. The Henry Miller in me is clawing out my eyes again. The Coney Island seasick rollercoaster feeling returns. I love it when you make me burn. I like it when I show up in your dreams the same week you show up in mine. Deny all you want, but I still say soul link. Just take the bottle of aspirin, anyway, hey you will thank me in the morning.
Kit is on the bed and she's guided by the light and she will not look away. That is her salvation, that's how she prays. Sometimes she goes up on hind legs and she looks like some other creature, half-Pan, a quarter horse, a quarter something reptilian that I do not know. Always moving, never surrendering. Always operating with that part of the brain that I just can't get to anymore. Making a contract now, body please obey. Listen to me and be good. Do as I say. Don't be bad to us any longer. Stop feeling pain. Just obey. One, two, three times a week. Every day a week. My body will listen. I will WILL it to listen. I will make it respond.
They said the way to make it a real book was to craft a dramatic arc. As it stands, there isn't any. I asked the right questions, I suppose, to trigger such a responce. Maybe in my mind I was just so good -- so good subconsciously -- that I knew it would not work. It would not float. The work was there but the threads were not tight enough. Not a big enough patch to hold it all together. He was wearing those worn out jeans. Instinctively, I looked to the crotch. I could not help it. It was reassure to recognize that those were his favorites, the ones I had patched.
Digging because alone we are not sure what the worth. Tell you a story about a teacher, but they are not all givers. Someone has to be the hammer-type, someone has to be the anvil.
The first time someone used that word on her, passive, she wondered if by definition that meant you always liked the bottom. And if you didn't it wasn't true. But maybe by definition it just means you like to be told, top or bottom. Maybe it does not mean "inactive" so much as "canvaslike." That does not mean blank, per se, sometimes it means you are more visible only after the pigment has been applied. Brought to the surface. Pinked, purpled and blackened. More vibrant, more alive.
It was beyond the point anyway. You want an open drama and a cul de sac kind of a fight. The sort you can drive around for hours in, arguing semantics. I don't think I want to drive that way. I went to driver's ed. I was a much better driver to start. Never had to use the emergency blinkers, until the city. And then, well, then it was never for an emergency, it was just to sit and idle because we could not find a place to park. Overprivileged/educated brats got it bad. Waiting to get their hands on the means of production, just to be told, Go sit in the car. I don't have the patience for you anymore, but I do have the silence. Get your own damn Frappuccino latte lite, I quit.
The lower lower part of the island isn't so sandy anymore. And the small seedier circuits shut down for a few years, but believe you me, they are starting up again. The Henry Miller in me is clawing out my eyes again. The Coney Island seasick rollercoaster feeling returns. I love it when you make me burn. I like it when I show up in your dreams the same week you show up in mine. Deny all you want, but I still say soul link. Just take the bottle of aspirin, anyway, hey you will thank me in the morning.