Mostly you never gave her a chance, maybe she always wanted him. Maybe it was him having a crooked dick, in line with his morality, maybe it was Disneyland shimmerin in his eyes. Mostly I can’t give her anything except for a fuckin and good orgasm everytime. Mostly.
I’m sure that rape doesn’t involve different positions though, and this surely mostly is consensual. So I guess I’m forced to finally believe all the shit I never acknowledged. They went ball-room dancing as I marinated on the couch. Adult Swim is on, nobody needs to move right now. That went on for weeks. She drank sugary iced-tea and I loved me some bagel bites for days. I ignored it all. They kept going out as friends.
When finally the subtlety of my mind came down and dawned, I found myself in my own closet, dick in hand, listening to her moan. And he was terrible. No stroke, no passion, I never saw a guy that was a dead fish.
But she obliged. That was love. That was the worst of it. She pretended he was good, and I’m pretty sure we all finished at the same time too, though they never heard me. No surprise here that she wanted out I began thinking.
When they left I sat staring at how clean they kept the bed in deceit and how messy my truth was all over the closet.
People in this city of ours seem to have a bit of a problem controlling their anger. I don’t buy into the whole, “I’m supposed to be angry, I’m from Philly,” idea because to me that’s just like using the whole “It’s okay, I was drunk” excuse for acting like an asshole. The only explanation one can fathom as to why some people are so hostile and aggressive is that they’re pissed off about not being able to leave Philly. One such example of hostile and aggressive behaviors comes in the form of Edward Harris’ lawsuit against Kentucky Fried Chicken (KFC).
Harris was eating at a KFC in Olney and ordered a bucket of fried chicken with two sides. After having trouble making up his mind on the sides, employee Michael Henry told him to hurry up. After Henry and Harris exchanged words, according to Harris, Henry then asked him, “Do you want the fucking chicken or not,” and proceeded to pistol-whip him numerous times, leaving Harris unconscious and requiring a hospital visit. This was in 2007.
Harris later sued KFC, hoping to cash-in on his pistol-whipping, only to be told that KFC is not responsible for the fact that Henry has a bit of an anger problem. For the attack on Harris, Henry was sentenced to 2-4 years in prison, and is now doing an additional 5-10 years for an unrelated armed robbery.
The Monkees make good music and here I am crying about what my head will look like with lbs of buckshot making appearance. When reflecting upon death, one should always have a theme song, for when the camera slowly pans away from the crimson swimming tiles. I wonder how long it takes to get…
if it doesn’t come bursting out of you in spite of everything, don’t do it. unless it comes unasked out of your heart and your mind and your mouth and your gut, don’t do it. if you have to sit for hours staring at your computer screen or hunched over your typewriter searching for words, don’t…
Today I decided to let my breath run putrid, and for molded sweat to eat the rotting notches in my shirt. I cut open the back of a doll to search for a new stomach to call my own, but the doll had the nerve to suck itself dry of its fallow slime pulses. After finding no reason to cut my own…
I keep a large tarantula to make sure I date the right woman. A pet such as that really is divisive, sure to find you the perfect girl, fast. Either the bitch is too good for any dirt in this world, above garbage, snakes, rough sex with biting and any fun…or she at least accepts such things exist, and can deal, or even loves it. I want the kind of women you meet at a decaying whisky bar, devoid of any recognizable color just like the walls: slowly greying. And that’s what makes life (and thus love) harder and better: the shades of grey.
I’ve identified a few shades I’m interested in, but their lines cross too evenly. Their eyes are too close to the each of their other. They fuck all wrong and its lateral lacking movement. Animals should come out.
My head is making awful noises lately though. It has inhibited the whole “have sex” goal nature stuck in me. I’m sure my fridge has a lot to say, but when it’s humming me advice in the middle of eating out a good pie
the debating just gets tiresome at such a time. My tongue needs less aching.
It’s not that I have faith in my tarantula and loud mouthed fridge, I just believe they scare away the ones nature doesn’t want me to have. My bad habits are the ones closest to me. They scare away the best of them.