Minds of Emotional Females

Lust inducing mini blind shadows sway in the breeze of the open window as they fit the contour of uninterrupted skin on a naked body. Early morning, 4am, maybe 4:30. he sleeps...so asleep...in the soundless night, soundless all but his deep breathing and my heart pounding at the breathtakingly beautiful nude before me...an animated photograph, this instance seems to linger on in all of it's intensity...and I may at this time be reliving some emotions of the orgasm from last night...and he’s so peaceful...lying there…

But I am not asleep...no…I am not asleep. I sit, unclothed as well, on the opposite side of the room in maroon computer chair, observing…observing the rising and falling of ribs, the soft brown hair, and although the ‘blue like water’ eyes are concealed by fleshy lids, I can still see them in my mind’s eye. Following lines of shadows down the side of his waist with my eyes, I can relive my lips running down that line lying over the inguinal ligament just inside his hip, that one line that leads down to the pubic bone, my favorite part of the male body, that line…and yet he sleeps…motionless and appearingly thoughtless and dream free, he sleeps…

Hot and vibrant sensations shoot from my heart throughout my body into and along the length of every limb as the scene takes me in and then my body prepares itself for round two of his sweet affection…and then, I realize, once again, he is asleep…he…is…asleep. How can he be asleep? Should not he be so filled with passion and sentiment that he can do nothing but lay awake enjoying me as well? So now, I sit, waiting…waiting for him to stir…to realize what he’s missing, to wake and turn and smile at me with perfect teeth and “sweet” hair messy from being intimately touched for hours…and yet he does not move…

And why shouldn’t he be awake…loving me? As if I didn’t deserve the effort it takes to love? And then I realize that it was he that fell asleep first…for I was still awake to hear the slowing patterns of his breath. And it was he who received pleasures on the down low and did not return the favor. It was he that got his first and had to be reminded to finish the job.

Fury inducing mini blind shadows send ripples of indigo devils dancing in the moonlight along curves of skin…chanting softly…songs of malice and luring mantras of temptation…

“But I don’t want to hurt him,” a whisper almost uncontrollably escapes my lips.

And, yet, they are so beautiful. In a ballet of nocturne, tridents tracing luring designs of hostility in the air, they dance along his waist…inviting me to join and tempting every one of my senses to do...then all at once I can smell of aqua di gio and taste warm chocolate in my mouth and they provoke me with every other stimulant of my favoritism inducing a complete symphonic waltz of resentment…

I carefully take into my hands a letter opener lying on the desk beside me and begin to drift toward unsuspecting nude…

the closet

the place on fifth avenue where i used to get away,
to put as many physical barriers between us as i could,
after all, she alreaday put all the emotional ones up first,
what was left?
it was my turn.
the place where i'd write my bad girl letters to her,
the ones damning her to hell and cutting her to pieces,
the letters that she was never intended to actually read,
and the letter that was accidentally found in the 8 month old hands of my little niece who'd gotten into my backpack and carried it to forbidden ground...
needless to say, we talked about that one in family counseling that month.
the place where i'd sit, and feel relief for a few minutes alone and with my head on my knees
the place where i'd sit and pray, that is when i used to pray.
the place in a time when i never said "goddamnit!"
the place in a time of falling for my first love in 9th grade, the guy that mom never liked, that may have very well been the reason i was infatuated...aw, defiance...
the place in a time when she didnt' know how to deal with me...oh wait...she still doesnt'
the place in a time at 15 when she had me taking zoloft so she could be a lazy parent
the place in a time that i took zoloft and felt like a zombie, never happy or sad
the place in a time when she had me switched to prozac and then i felt happy all the time to the point that i ignored problems.
the place i'd go to...to sit...to write...most importantly, just to think.

so let me say to you a story
about Silly Sally finding herself
sandwiched among six sexy boys...

silly sally didn't start out being so silly,
at first she was super shy.
but then then along sauntered bad boy billy

it all started one sultry summer day
when shy sally sat sweating her balls off
outside on a shaded bale of hay at her sister's farmhouse...

smoking a cigarette and feeling her belly rumble, she stated "salmon sounds simply salivating right now!"
so she stood from her shaded stack and skipped off to the seafood store
called "Sea Shells -n- some Swanky Stuff"

when she got up to the the front counter,
she stood, speechless, staring at the seriously goodlooking male staff member before her.
"hello, welcome to "Sea shells -n- some Swanky Stuff," home of everything swanky, i'm billy, may I help you?

thoughts with unknown origin

Sometimes, when i'm driving at 70mph down the interstate i can see a deer jump out of nowhere and plow into the front end of my car giving me no time to swerve. It crushes my bumper and hood as it rolls up and back over the front end of my car shattering the front windshield with its antlers that eventually pin my head to the headrest of my seat right through the middle of my face like tacking paper to corkboard, only paper doesn't bleed or make that squishy brain or cracking bone sound...and then i realize i'm still just driving down the road, but with a death grip on the steering wheel and extremely tense shoulders...

Sometimes, when i'm laying down at night facing my daughter in bed trying to fall asleep with just inches between our noses, I can see her face come alive by the waking red eyes of some demonic and unhuman creature with curled foaming lips, growling vocals, and two rows of tiny, pointed teeth that lunge foward to feed off my features just inches away, and i yank her off and throw her across the bed only to roll off into the floor in terror unable to make it to the door before she leaps onto my back to finish feeding...and then i realize i'm still just laying there watching her beautiful face while she sleeps, but i'm still pretty freaked out have to turn and face the other way...

Sometimes, when i'm walking to my car alone at 2am after spending hours on an art project due at 8am the next morning, I can see a large black guy, a college football student or something, with a thick leather UCA jacket on and wearing dreds come running at me from outta the shadows so he can pull me into one of the many bushes we have around campus in order to rape me from behind so he can rip and bleed me out with his oversized endowment while one of his giant hands wraps round both my wrists at the small of my back and his other covers my screams from the front. he finishes, beats me to death and runs off with my purse...and then i realize i've made it to my car safely, i get in and lock my doors as fast as i can...

I have many other thoughts like this, most of them have to do with stuff happening to me while i'm in the car...and i can't figure out quite where they come from and why I have them, and i often wonder if other people have thoughts like this too or if i'm just a weirdo. i don't mean specifically my thoughts, but i wonder if other constantly worry about shit happenin to them to. Why can't i relax on the interstate? Even when there are no other cars around me, i'm still afraid of some freak accident. and where they hell does demon baby come from? and why is it always a young black stocky football playerish lookin guy i see coming to rape and mug me...why not a tall skinny white crackhead? don't know. these things just pop into my head. and why am i scared all the time? it'd be nice for once not to worry...

It was a beautiful day, but i was exhausted...that morning I'd gotten up at 6am, gotten my daughter and myself ready, taken her to the babysitter, gone to class at 8am, gone to grab a quick bite to eat at about 11:30, and then gone to photograph works in the Baum Gallery at the University of Central Arkansas for a class, then gone directly after to work on an art project that should've already been done, then gone directly after to fill up with gas to head to Little Rock at about 4:45pm to visit the Arkansas Art Center for the same class I was photographing work for previously. Then around 7pm I caught the trolley over to this other book store/art gallery that I can't remember the name of to photograph work there, again for the same class as before, and then around 8:05pm was headed out the door with a little cup of chardonnay made available by the hosts only to realize upon the arrival of the trolley that i couldn't find my keys...anywhere...looked all throughout my purse, pockets and on the ground outside...but i was almost positive i hadn't taken them out after leaving the first museum. The only thing i'd gotton out of my purse was my camera...

As i was waiting on the trolley and before i discovered that my keys were missing, I spotted a couple standing beside me. I thought i'd recognized them from the trolley ride over to museum number 2. I was curious as to whether another trolley would be coming back by being that the "2nd Friday art walk" I was on ended at 8pm and it was a minute or two after. I wasn't sure since this was the first one of these that I'd ever been on, I didn't want to be stranded and have to walk back to my car after dark in the middle of downtown Little Rock. "Weren't you the couple i was sitting by in the trolley awhile ago?"

"Yes," the older gentleman paused, " I saw you at the other museum and didn't want to wake you." I had been napping on a bench inside the AR Art Center with a trust that the guard sitting at the desk next to my "napping" bench would let my know when the next trolley was to arrive.

"I've had a long day," I'm just really tired.

"Well, that wine is sure to wake you right up."

I looked at my chardonnay. What artist of age living in a dry county is gonna pass up free chardonnay that they can carry around on trolleys from stop to stop. I said nothing in response. I reached in my purse for my keys to make sure i had them. I misplace them often, and knew that 40 minutes away from home was not the most opportune time to lost them. Not there. I rechecked every pocket. Not there. Checked my pants' pockets. Sat down my chardonnay...they just watched me. "i can't find my keys." I rechecked my purse for a third time. and my pants again. Not there.

"Oh no...well our car is parked at the library. After we get off there, we can take you wherever you need to go." the man looked eager.

junk drawer stuff...

Friday, April 04, 2008

As her hand clenched the sand-filled balloon, Evie caught the Love Motion gel sitting on her computer desk laughing at her. She almost thought she could hear him laughing, too, even if he did live on the other side of Conway. But she knew he didn't know about the purchase because she'd never told him. Evie never had the chance to tell him. Son of a beeotch broke it off too fucking soon...
"I'm a guy..." he said,"I have needs" he said..."I just can't do this anymore. I just can't wait around for the 'right' moment" Little did he know, it was supposed to be a gift. She had spent the entire month of October deciding on whether or not to do it, and once she decided that she would, then it was the idea of how to make it special that hung in her mind. Fingernails digging into the isoflex ball...the stimulant gel continued to grin and laugh like a little bitch. She pulled the 12" fire spitting sheep from the desk and lit a cigarette while her nails bit deeper yet into the rubber until suddenly sand was exploding into the floor. She'd made her decisions and had planned the whole night.
"He couldn't wait around anymore my ass!" She knew what he wanted ...he'd wanted her...that purple haired whore dressed as go go girl at his cousin's Halloween Party that somehow manage to bump into him three times in the same night spilling beer down her fake double D tits every time.
Now, what was she going to do with the crotchless underwear, fishnets, body chocolate, a spiked cock ring, and this expensive little bottle of tingling gel?
"God, Evie, you're so fucking stupid!" Stores like that don't just pass out refunds on this kind of merchandise, and it's not like she was going to use it on anyone else. It was a given that it was going to be special for her. She'd never been with anyone. But she wanted to make it special for him too.

Too Much

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

Problems got me pessimistic like upside down roses…and not red ones…black ones with gangrene tips and rusting wax dripping into a midnight rippling lake of poison molasses under a hot bleeding moon and I can see diva red wrinkles on the water and my reflection breaking against shards of broken metal on the banks. Flowers rain soft and crumbling petal boats rotting full of holes and they sink into the simple syrup and suspend themselves among other things swallowed…such as pennies of fools who actually believe in wishing wells, globs of drainage, green and yellow and brown and black, from a sinus infected spitting contest, a fingerless glove guilty of 15 hundred and 82 crotch grab-and-pulls in a Michael Jackson dance, a frazzled toothbrush, a broken fingernail, a stolen purse, reading glasses who read too much, pirated cds, bits of serrated ceramic, pubic hair, and a Easter egg that at one time was a 3 year old’s “green cookie” in a make believe game of “Look Mommie! I made you lunch!” And it’s all like a hard jello stew of nagging and tangled fecal matter, impacted bowels. Nothing makes sense anymore, and I haven’t shit in eleven days.

Dancing on a window sill

Monday, February 04, 2008

Walking my fingers in the dust
and traveling over cracks in the dingy cream paint,
Mister Balthasar is enjoying his Sunday afternoon stroll.
"What a bonny day!" tappa tap tap..."oh! oh my! what is this?"
He nudges a crispy body whose legs protrude into the air above.
"Well, i do say! looks as though you've spent too much time in the sun today, Godfrey.
maybe you'd betta caller a day."
A fingernail slowly nudges the lifeless insect from the walkway, it tumbles to the great carpet below...
tap, tap, tap...
"hmm hm hm..." jolly tune...prancing right along...

"Oh if it isn't Ms. Gunhilda! why hello there Ms. Gunhilda!"
Two more digits teetot their way over to Mister Balthasar from the opposite direction.
His knuckle hair smiles pleasantly, "well how aw u doing this fine...
"I sawr you do it, you bawstud!" she violently pokes him in the first metacarpal.
"You son of a bitch! you murderer!"
"What the devil aw you tolking about?"
"You pushed him! you did it!"
"What?"
"Shutup You! I sawr it happen! i sawr all of it! you kicked him! you did it!"
"What?! But'ee was dead olready!"
"So, why didn't you call someone to claim the body? why did you feel the need to dispose of it??"
"It was.."
"I'll tell you why! because youre guilty! you thrashed his little body forcing out his soul and that's when you knew....you knew you had to be rid of it! to be rid of the EVIDENCE...you BAWSTUD!"
"It was'a bloody fly, you headcase!"
"A bloody fly? A BLOODY FLY?! Ee probably had a wife and children...and...and white picked fence!"
"Yor a looney, you aw...simply out of the tree! a bloomin nutcase! Ee was JUST a BLOODY FLY!"
"Oh, oh i see, and your just a bloody hand! what if someone were to just come and cut you off?! oh, right, right, you wouldn't like that at'awl would you? I shall call the police!"
"Yor not calling anyone, you bitch! yor going to a funny farm!"
"Or maybe I should cut you off to show you a lesson! She can learn to write with her left hand!"
"Yor bloody barmy! Aren't you forgetting that if you cut me off and she bleeds to death, then you die too!"
"Well, then it will be worth it to rid this world of one more malevolent eradicator!"
Ms. Gunhilda flings her madly shivering body at Mister Balthasar. He catches her blow with animosity, and they wildy thrash about with intertwining fingers through dirt and more dead flys and also some cockroaches until finally Mister Balthasar gains the upper hand(mainly because he is the dominant), and throws Ms. Gunhilda through the window shattering it to pieces and sending shards into her radial and ulnar arteries.
"HAHAHA! That'll show you! Cheerio, you minger!"
"Holy Shit!" She runs to the bathroom and runs a lifeless Ms. Gunhilda under warm water...Then as She faintly falls to the floor, Mister Balthasar can feel himself fading...

My crush knits one hell of a scarf...

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

"OH!" he gasps in astonishment.
"UH!" i echo in sympathy dropping to the floor before his reclining body.
so here i am...on my knees...looking up at him...ooh, it's sooo long and phat...i bet he's so proud...but you'd never be able to tell outside of this room...he's such a down to earth guy! the kind of man that...well...you'd just never suspect!
he lifts his hand and reaches it out towards me...his fingers brush mine as he gently grasps the huge, long, fuzzy, scarf that he had been vigorously working on all week in knitting club.
"Thankyou" he says with a warming admiration toward me,"guess i was getting a bit carried away"
"your welcome," i smiled standing up and returning to my seat beside him.
picking up my sweater, i wondered if we had just shared a moment.

People

Friday, January 18, 2008

wow, it's amazing how many people get on my nerves, especially before i get to know them, and then it's also amazing how when i get to know them, it's easier to except those things that got on my nerves before. patience is a virtue...truly learning that in this lifetime. love unconditionally. that's what he says he's trying to learn in this lifetime. i think i'll adopt this goal.

i have killed many things in my life...ive murdered more in the last week though than in my life previous, my new apartment has roaches pretty bad. fuck! you don't know these things until youve already signed and 12 month lease and paid a nonrefundable deposit and first months rent. fuck! fuck! fuck! but i refuse to live in peace with them because of being socialized to think these little creatures are so disgusting, so they must die at my hand and whatever kind of powder it is that the bugman came and put along the baseboards and corners of the apartment.

i may reincarnate as a roach, my life will be snuffed out by a thumb and index finger lined will paper towel, but because i will love and tolerate unconditionally, the one responsible for finalizing my short existence will be forgiven as i lay twitching in a wadded up paper towel amongst empty soup cans, tattered tape and other little twitching body-filled, crumpled paper towels at the bottom of the kitchen trash can.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

"When you die, can I buy a ticket to ice-skate on your lungs?" Danny inquired as I lit my post-joint Marlboro Menthol Light.

"You crack me up!" Puffs ran over my tongue and down my windpipe with the sweet and familiar minty taste, yet my lungs responded by surrendering a good amount of volume to the tar attack.

Minor asthma that had developed from years of smoking had helped me quit...except of course when i drink or chief. Like in that country song..."she only smokes when she drinks," or some kind of shit like that. I don't really listen to much country.

"Just get it wet and stick it in there," I instructed.

Danny held his brush almost timidly. He had never watercolored before. He didn't know what he doing. We sat deep within the trees in a small clearing at Toad Suck Park. We couldn't been seen or heard, and we were only hoping we wouldn't be smelt. But we probably were. Being "smelt" that is. I don't think anyone really cares anymore. You'd be surprised to find out how many turn to the green for a bit of relaxation or recreation. From homeless crackwhores to grade school students to teachers all the way up to wealthy business owner millionaires. whatever!

Awww, I needed this bit of nature and this chance to do something I enjoy doing. It had been way too long.