Her deliriously unspooling eyes
are ghostly cameras
tracing
my waning
hard-on.
Now I will mull things over for another three years.
Monday, 30 May 2011
Saturday, 7 May 2011
Further and Further Away
He had been lambasted for his utter adoration of the USA but that was alright, that was just fine. He sipped from a can of Lilt as he drove and contemplated Maria, the girl he was going to visit. He was going, ostensibly, to help her fill out some employment forms so that she might find some honest work within this honourable and glorious nation, bonny Scotland.
God how he loved her thighs they were glorious and he loved her breasts anaw. He gunned the accelerator and emitted a wild whooping sound. He did enjoy the summer months. Over the winter he was often plagued with a feeling of insurmountable sadness and unending lethargy. But it was summer now and he was going to see her.
He was going to see her now, he was going to see Maria. It was acutely nerve-racking. He was sober and he found it difficult to engage with other people when he was sober, lacking that comfortable shield of alcohol induced stupefaction. But ye couldnae just go about pissed out yer skull the whole time. That kind of behaviour was somewhat frowned upon. Ye had to make an effort, to be earnest.
He was getting deeper into the city now, closer to the street where her flat was situated. It was 7:30pm. The sky was yellow. He wasn't sure how he felt.
He was standing outside her door. At least he thought it might be her door. Potentially it was her door. He couldn't remember specifically which one it was. He couldn't say for sure. He took his phone out of his pocket. He dialled her number. He looked up at the windows, all the windows above. She was behind one of them. Waiting for him.
She answered the phone and then she was at the window, smiling. The gentle croak of her voice was exquisite. It sounded like the wind gently stirring autumn leaves. It made him want to squeal a bit. He wanted to sit alone in a room and contemplate the unlimited possibilities for self-expression.
He was inside now, in her room. With her. There were vinyl LPs affixed to the wall by way of decoration. There was a single bed in one corner, a desk with laptop computer in the opposite corner.
What happens now he wondered and she didn't seem too sure herself.
Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.
God how he loved her thighs they were glorious and he loved her breasts anaw. He gunned the accelerator and emitted a wild whooping sound. He did enjoy the summer months. Over the winter he was often plagued with a feeling of insurmountable sadness and unending lethargy. But it was summer now and he was going to see her.
He was going to see her now, he was going to see Maria. It was acutely nerve-racking. He was sober and he found it difficult to engage with other people when he was sober, lacking that comfortable shield of alcohol induced stupefaction. But ye couldnae just go about pissed out yer skull the whole time. That kind of behaviour was somewhat frowned upon. Ye had to make an effort, to be earnest.
He was getting deeper into the city now, closer to the street where her flat was situated. It was 7:30pm. The sky was yellow. He wasn't sure how he felt.
He was standing outside her door. At least he thought it might be her door. Potentially it was her door. He couldn't remember specifically which one it was. He couldn't say for sure. He took his phone out of his pocket. He dialled her number. He looked up at the windows, all the windows above. She was behind one of them. Waiting for him.
She answered the phone and then she was at the window, smiling. The gentle croak of her voice was exquisite. It sounded like the wind gently stirring autumn leaves. It made him want to squeal a bit. He wanted to sit alone in a room and contemplate the unlimited possibilities for self-expression.
He was inside now, in her room. With her. There were vinyl LPs affixed to the wall by way of decoration. There was a single bed in one corner, a desk with laptop computer in the opposite corner.
What happens now he wondered and she didn't seem too sure herself.
Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.
Asleep
He was nervous because he wanted it so bad and the fact of this was liable to fuck him up for sure, he knew this.
He knows this, she knows this, he knows this.
Reality is vicious.
YA CUNT REALITY WIS AWFUL SURELY TO FUCK IT WISNAE MEANT TO FEEL THIS BAD
Aye, aye it wis, momentarily, but the the bad moments passed and ye were back on an even keel. I'm a writer and this is my latest piece.
He knows this, she knows this, he knows this.
Reality is vicious.
YA CUNT REALITY WIS AWFUL SURELY TO FUCK IT WISNAE MEANT TO FEEL THIS BAD
Aye, aye it wis, momentarily, but the the bad moments passed and ye were back on an even keel. I'm a writer and this is my latest piece.
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