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I've discovered foul play in the lexicon of my actions. Pushing me to the outermost ring of comfort, a coquette, yeah, with which I've become familiar, whatever, occurances are stained by treacherous mishaps, this is not it and so I dream of love stories

And then I came home.
Lately, home has become "HOme," (huh-"ohhh") and "home" has become nowhere.

///It's funny right now. All of it. My face is pink and emitting some sort of luke-warm heat. My hands look like the belly of a speckled trout. Cold weather, oh overheated no-home, you devils. The things you do to me, you know, those ( Read more... )

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I AM WET ONLY TO MY ANKLES THIS PLACE IS FAMILIAR AND SMELLS LIKE MOSS I WIPE MY CHEEKS AND FIND MY PALMS DAMP WITH MILK I MUST LEAVE PLEASE MOTHER I SEE YOU IN YOUR AIRPLANE JUST OUT OF REACH THE SOUND OF PUMPING PELVISES AND TRANSFERING OF FLUIDS IS INTRODUCED TO MY EARS AND TWELVE THOUSAND DARK BISON COME RUNNING FROM MY STOMACH I AM NOT ( Read more... )

I'm sure you can remember a time when you were riding a stallion. You had on chaps of chocolate suede and a fitting gun in your holster. You were riding fast and hard, your horse was at a canter. The breeze and sun together were like 10,000 angels kissing your neck. You stopped to sip some water from the stream nearby and your gun went off. ( Read more... )

olivia.
olovia.
olovera.
oh, i love ya.

(love, Jane-Claire.)

I've come down with something rather unpleasant. I woke up two days ago, comfortably, late afternoon. Within the hour I realized that I could barely swallow my own saliva without my throat feeling like it was caught swallowing 100,000 shards of over-sized glass (mid-attempt ( Read more... )

IT'S THE GELATINOUS CRUNCH OF SUGAR AT THE BOTTOM OF THE TEA CUP: LOATHE IT BUT KEEP ON WANTING MORE.


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Today's weather rains upon me as much pleasure as a first orgasam or an embrace from Mother Nature herself ( Read more... )