The thing about stockings is, they remind me of the girls in high school, and I don’t know what the high school kids might wear these days, but back in my day, they all wore these thigh-length stockings, white or blue or purple or whatever, and it was cute as fuck because these girls, how else’re they going to show off their stockings but by wearing skirts high enough to show that the damn things cut off at mid-thigh, and I’ve got to wonder if it was ever a conscious thing, like playing to the school girl ideal that a lot of old fucks cling to, but I wasn’t an old fuck then, I was some kid who thought this is just what girls do, wear their stockings like that, and I think I might’ve thrown the stocking thing right out the window along with the attraction to lip gloss and girls who jump rope, except Lorena, she went and wore the damn things when she gave me my first blowjob, and granted I wasn’t anywhere near her stockings during this, during the blowjob, but I sort of burned it into my head, right the fuck into the core place where all of the basest desires come from, and Lorena, she was a pretty girl, but I don’t exactly have her etched into my mind, it’s just that image, of the girl with stockings, so now it’s a thing I have and what’s an old fuck supposed to do except tell you to wear them when we fuck, any kind, preferably striped, with the most serious face you’ve ever seen in your life, and expect you to do the thing, the stockings and whole song and dance, or the thing where we’re in the forest, or whatever, because the thing is, whatever you have etched into your brain, whatever little thing got burned in there, whether you like it or not, it’s there, and it could be the strangest thing to you, might make you sick, but to me, this old fuck with the thing for stockings, it’s the most beautiful thing in the goddamn world, because it’s what you got burned into your brain, and here’s my point: your brain’s like that field in heaven where there’s no right and no wrong and everything makes complete sense because it makes you feel good, makes you feel like happiness was there all along and all you needed to do was die to find it.
Month: March 2011
The thing about stockings
The thing about stockings is, they remind me of the girls in high school, and I don’t know what the high school kids might wear these days, but back in my day, they all wore these thigh-length stockings, white or blue or purple or whatever, and it was cute as fuck because these girls, how else’re they going to show off their stockings but by wearing skirts high enough to show that the damn things cut off at mid-thigh, and I’ve got to wonder if it was ever a conscious thing, like playing to the school girl ideal that a lot of old fucks cling to, but I wasn’t an old fuck then, I was some kid who thought this is just what girls do, wear their stockings like that, and I think I might’ve thrown the stocking thing right out the window along with the attraction to lip gloss and girls who jump rope, except Lorena, she went and wore the damn things when she gave me my first blowjob, and granted I wasn’t anywhere near her stockings during this, during the blowjob, but I sort of burned it into my head, right the fuck into the core place where all of the basest desires come from, and Lorena, she was a pretty girl, but I don’t exactly have her etched into my mind, it’s just that image, of the girl with stockings, so now it’s a thing I have and what’s an old fuck supposed to do except tell you to wear them when we fuck, any kind, preferably striped, with the most serious face you’ve ever seen in your life, and expect you to do the thing, the stockings and whole song and dance, or the thing where we’re in the forest, or whatever, because the thing is, whatever you have etched into your brain, whatever little thing got burned in there, whether you like it or not, it’s there, and it could be the strangest thing to you, might make you sick, but to me, this old fuck with the thing for stockings, it’s the most beautiful thing in the goddamn world, because it’s what you got burned into your brain, and here’s my point: your brain’s like that field in heaven where there’s no right and no wrong and everything makes complete sense because it makes you feel good, makes you feel like happiness was there all along and all you needed to do was die to find it.
I’m a fucking animal today.
Do you get the feeling? That notion that you need to either be put down or released? That certainty that if you don’t get one or the other you’re going to tear the goddamn walls down and do things you’ll regret when you get back to this point tomorrow, next week, next month?
Of course you do.
I’m a fucking animal today.
Do you get the feeling? That notion that you need to either be put down or released? That certainty that if you don’t get one or the other you’re going to tear the goddamn walls down and do things you’ll regret when you get back to this point tomorrow, next week, next month?
Of course you do.
eyes
For a long time, when I was a child, I could not look people in the eyes. I did not. This is supposed to be a sign that the person is shy or hesitant. I suppose I was.
Now I crave eyes. Someone’s eyes tell everything, betray everything, hide nothing. Body language, too, but when you look someone in the eyes, it’s all. A life entire, right there, starting with the pitch and irradiating out like heat from the canopy, slowly, outwardly, contracting and expanding, and it’s all placed in this space, so tiny, so fragile, really, that I know why people speak of gazing, swimming, flying, diving, seeing the soul. Seeing the universe.
Give me your eyes. I’ll keep them safe.
eyes
For a long time, when I was a child, I could not look people in the eyes. I did not. This is supposed to be a sign that the person is shy or hesitant. I suppose I was.
Now I crave eyes. Someone’s eyes tell everything, betray everything, hide nothing. Body language, too, but when you look someone in the eyes, it’s all. A life entire, right there, starting with the pitch and irradiating out like heat from the canopy, slowly, outwardly, contracting and expanding, and it’s all placed in this space, so tiny, so fragile, really, that I know why people speak of gazing, swimming, flying, diving, seeing the soul. Seeing the universe.
Give me your eyes. I’ll keep them safe.
destiny
I am going to explain destiny. Two men, Ted and Leonard, sit at the edge of a pier and stare into the water, listening to the frogs crick crick. They stare into the water with a sort of intensity and longing, like they lost something they can never recover. They want answers they will never get. Me, I stand behind an open window and look at them. After a relative span of time they become old and turn to look at me with their deepset mad eyes before they lean forward and finally vanish into the stillness. I step out when it’s my turn and find a pale woman standing at the pier, waiting, sometimes holding the hand of the little girl in the yellow dress and white sandals. She smiles and we stand and watch the water together. When a relative span of time has passed the pale woman walks forward without so much as a kiss to the wind and plunges in. I walk and sit at the edge of the pier where Ted and Leonard stared and find myself unable to do anything but stare into the water, listening to the frogs crick crick.
destiny
I am going to explain destiny. Two men, Ted and Leonard, sit at the edge of a pier and stare into the water, listening to the frogs crick crick. They stare into the water with a sort of intensity and longing, like they lost something they can never recover. They want answers they will never get. Me, I stand behind an open window and look at them. After a relative span of time they become old and turn to look at me with their deepset mad eyes before they lean forward and finally vanish into the stillness. I step out when it’s my turn and find a pale woman standing at the pier, waiting, sometimes holding the hand of the little girl in the yellow dress and white sandals. She smiles and we stand and watch the water together. When a relative span of time has passed the pale woman walks forward without so much as a kiss to the wind and plunges in. I walk and sit at the edge of the pier where Ted and Leonard stared and find myself unable to do anything but stare into the water, listening to the frogs crick crick.
Rene
Rene asked me what I wanted for breakfast once, when her roommate was out doing something or another. She was seated on her twin bed, I was splayed out across the wooden floor. I liked the feeling of cool, flat surface against the hair on my back. I told her I wanted her, and she laughed. I didn’t smile. So she told me to wait and, when I’d been kept in the room long enough, she called me. I found her in the small kitchen, on the other side of the island, holding a plate of scrambled eggs and wearing nothing but a purple apron, hiding everything I wanted to see. I’d never really thought about it, beyond the arousal. She didn’t have to do anything. She could’ve just remained on her bed and cracked a joke, or some familiar sarcasm. We might’ve fucked in bed instead of in the living room. But she did something, something that brought me joy. And I never thought about it.
Rene
Rene asked me what I wanted for breakfast once, when her roommate was out doing something or another. She was seated on her twin bed, I was splayed out across the wooden floor. I liked the feeling of cool, flat surface against the hair on my back. I told her I wanted her, and she laughed. I didn’t smile. So she told me to wait and, when I’d been kept in the room long enough, she called me. I found her in the small kitchen, on the other side of the island, holding a plate of scrambled eggs and wearing nothing but a purple apron, hiding everything I wanted to see. I’d never really thought about it, beyond the arousal. She didn’t have to do anything. She could’ve just remained on her bed and cracked a joke, or some familiar sarcasm. We might’ve fucked in bed instead of in the living room. But she did something, something that brought me joy. And I never thought about it.