The older I get the more apparent it is to me that sadness can no longer be glorified as some testing, self-cleansing, insular experience that (in light of the fog of misery or the undulating choke of desolation) absolves me of any responsibility to proactively fix myself. The reality is, against all inclination I must call on the reserves of ( Read more... )

I want a relationship with him.  Hell, I would even take an "It's complicated."

Nothing makes sense.  I'm incapable of sewing even the most primitive of words together into comprehensible and tangible thought for you.  But for the first time, today I could look into your eyes and feel nothing; there was no yearning, no desire, even kissing you felt estranged.  And all you had to say was I didn't smell like me; the scent on my ( Read more... )

I can feel the works cranking, grinding against the rust. I can't shake this off.

I nicked my ankles in the shower this morning.  I shave my legs for you, smell like mints for you, for the slim chance of wrapping our bodies like wires if our orbits cross, collide; if you bare teeth, release the tired, unused laugh that I'd love to exercise; if I ( Read more... )

Empty morning: the phone vibrating at my bedside, a sharp buzzer wailing out for me to wake.  I invited the hot water into my body after some minutes in bed, trying to ease this sex out of me &, for the first time, failing.  My skin is soft and smooth, but the baptism failed to deliver some whole-body cleansing.  Standing in my underwear before a ( Read more... )

In line at lunch, I'm buying gum & thigh high hoes & fish nets for my evening fun. The man behind me smiles. I smile. I’ve got the freshest breath in this place & the silkiest thighs any fingers could trace. According to the box, I’ll feel "elegant, bold, playful and sexy" in the sheer, soft-black, lace-top hosiery. Hand wash only. Drip dry. My gum ( Read more... )

NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS.

640 × 480

800 × 600

1024 × 768

Get into jazz

When it comes to the perennial question of what it is we want--and we have only become the people we are because we have wanted--there are, traditionally, two forms of escapism available to us. One can escape into doubt about what one wants, or one can escape from doubt about what one wants. These two forms of doubt, these two refuges, coexist in ( Read more... )

My hair is wild, my throat is sore, and my words are bare as I turn 19.

PART ONE: in which we spill and not make a mess ( Read more... )