Peace, your a timid creature.
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| spiffynorthwest |
The throbbing in my shoulder matched the muffled sounds from the headers of the car. Sweet liquid morphine and shots of Jack Daniels had their desired effect, easing my body and mind out the bowels of this craziness. It’s amazing how fast life can change, from dreary and boring to “What the fuck!” in a hot quick second. I noticed things were getting easier, surprises less surprising, and choices made by previous choices. Violence became a common thing, life and death, no longer fragile and precious, but cheap and forgotten. The only lives important were ours. It wasn’t the fight for life, because I had life and it never was this exciting or crazy, but it was the fight for survival. I know survival is life, but there’s something about staring at the wrong end of the gun on a regular basis that ingrained a grit, a hardness that’s comforting and that sedates the complacency experienced by the blue and white collared grunts, performing the same routine, longing after a little dough to buy a house or car, or the beautiful trophy wife. I imagine cavemen had this same excitement, and really, that what this was. Caveman style, fight for survival, kill and maim to push ahead and escape. Some men are born for this lifestyle, and for me? Well I didn’t know, but I knew that guns now felt comfortable, my aim was sure and not shaking, my stride confident with my queen by my side. I guess that even if I didn’t start in this “trade” it seemed that it grew on me. These thoughts eased me into another deep sleep, the lullaby of mufflers at 70 mph, and the comfort of cold steel pressed against my skin and delicious lips, parted slightly with just a little strain visible on her china face. Where this was going, I didn’t care and it seemed my career description was rapidly changing from my old mundane, back breaking job, but the goal was the same, that I might see her and escape from the listless world that was mine, outside my Queen’s castle.
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| layoutsparks |
We decided to meet again at a mutual friends house, and soon drowned our past in bottles of liquor, as was our custom. The party gave us enough publicity to dial in our emotions and be civil, at least for a moment. The night went smoothly, and our intoxication soon led to giggling and playing grab-ass for a couple of hours. The self-induced heaven I maintained was an amazing effort on my behalf, emotions in check, brain on hold. Of course, the sexual tension that always surrounded my Angel and I kept me going, “Hell”, I thought, “if nothing else I’m gonna get laid”. That seemed to get me through many nights with her, and, if I sorted them out then, I’d see what really was wrong with us. It’s entirely possible to live in my head, not checking the facts or figures or any reality whatsoever. But so goes this dance and regardless of logic and pain, which never added up to a positive, the door shut and in the darkness, our hands found each other. I breathed her in great gasping breaths, like a drowning man, breaking the surface a moment before unconsciousness. My hands ripped her shirt near off, her nails left tiny blood lines of passions anger. Our bodies moved so smoothly, wet with perspiration, sexual excitement, and hunger. As we satisfied our lusts with our fingers, our mouths, every part of our body became a playground, things that some considered taboo, seemed to possess us. Closing my eyes to the music, swaying with her sounds, wet and sighing sounds of desperation and passion. The light from the new day showed the results of our play. Clothes were everywhere, the mattresses separated and laid crosswise displaying the crumpled sheets and suggestive pillows and silken ties. That’s when I saw it, as she rode on top, driving herself on me with hard strokes of still drunk love, a glint swung from her neck, a glimmer of gold, a spark of diamond dancing just above my face. I’m sure she forgot she was wearing it, a symbol of her betrayal to me, a sign of success for her, his necklace pronouncing a conquest of my Angel. Yanked from passion, I couldn’t stop, I really couldn’t move, hypnotized by her sex, and violated by her betrayal. Oh dear God, my heart is stopping, I can bear no more, my mind drove itself to these newest depths of darkened morose pure and unadulterated pain. She saw it on my face, my tightened jaw, not from an orgasm, but, and she knew it quick, from that necklace. I could barely breathe, my throat dryly gasped out, “Why? Why would you wear that here with me?” But that was my Angel, that is who she is, no thoughts of anyone but her, no understanding of the repercussions of her curiosities. I was the fool. I made this whole thing up in my mind, I created the “us” from my own fantasies. She merely rode the ride, the ups and downs being a thrill of entertainment and nothing more. My reality, merely a fantasy, an old man wrapped in the make up and pretty things of her young world.
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| silvereyedgirl |
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| billiefuckingpiper |
I gathered the leftovers of my senses and with a hollow aching knot deep in my gut, stronger than any hunger, I went to edges of sanity and looked over. Putting all my tools in the trunk of the car and covering them with a tear-stained blanket, I drove slowly in the early morning, my only company were the frogs and katydid’s of the country, and softly falling rain. Parking a mile away, off the road and hidden from curious eyes, I crept just close enough to her house to see the driveway and laying down in the wet grass, stared at her front door until my eyes ached and head pounded with concentration. Who I should kill first? Imaginations of what was going on between them were thumbscrews of jealousy that tightened around my throat in an unflinching grip. Many questions; some of her, some of me, some of him, were just empty mirrors that reflected a violence behind my eyes. The rain was gentle, the pain was not, both soaking me, both making me cold. There I laid for hours, till the early light of day peeked over the trees. I grinned, even the sun shuddered at what was going to happen. Someone must have told her I knew because they never showed. Walking back to my car and tears came again at what I was becoming. Following my Angel cost me everything, I lost my way and lost my identity. What was I doing? The unknown circumstances and crazy love drove me mercilessly, and loves evil sibling, Jealousy, took me farther than I ever thought possible. I shook off the channeled spirits of murder from my soul, thanking God, not for lack of courage, but for lack of opportunity. My imaginations stoked the fires of wicked intentions, but now I’m confused, for love had calmed me enough to lust for her again. I didn’t care if she slept with them, as long as I could hold her and act out my fantasies on her, fucking her like they did. This is love, this is us, this is hell.
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| billiefuckingpiper |
I gathered the leftovers of my senses and with a hollow aching knot deep in my gut, stronger than any hunger, I went to edges of sanity and looked over. Putting all my tools in the trunk of the car and covering them with a tear-stained blanket, I drove slowly in the early morning, my only company were the frogs and katydid’s of the country, and softly falling rain. Parking a mile away, off the road and hidden from curious eyes, I crept just close enough to her house to see the driveway and laying down in the wet grass, stared at her front door until my eyes ached and head pounded with concentration. Who I should kill first? Imaginations of what was going on between them were thumbscrews of jealousy that tightened around my throat in an unflinching grip. Many questions; some of her, some of me, some of him, were just empty mirrors that reflected a violence behind my eyes. The rain was gentle, the pain was not, both soaking me, both making me cold. There I laid for hours, till the early light of day peeked over the trees. I grinned, even the sun shuddered at what was going to happen. Someone must have told her I knew because they never showed. Walking back to my car and tears came again at what I was becoming. Following my Angel cost me everything, I lost my way and lost my identity. What was I doing? The unknown circumstances and crazy love drove me mercilessly, and loves evil sibling, Jealousy, took me farther than I ever thought possible. I shook off the channeled spirits of murder from my soul, thanking God, not for lack of courage, but for lack of opportunity. My imaginations stoked the fires of wicked intentions, but now I’m confused, for love had calmed me enough to lust for her again. I didn’t care if she slept with them, as long as I could hold her and act out my fantasies on her, fucking her like they did. This is love, this is us, this is hell.
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| billigibbons |
The parties ended the same, taking the cash and getting drunk off our ass, then fucking each other raw till we passed out. Her body was young, firm and supple. She easily withstood the ravages of those long nights and trailer appointments in the hood. I’m a creature of habit, and, true to form, found my rhythm and performed flawlessly. Except for the little splits in my sanity, the little blackouts now and then. Was it because of stress? Alcohol? I really think my Angel is making me crazy. Love, damn the love that drives me, that won’t let me go, that keeps me tied to her. Shit, it didn’t matter, I barely had time to think about serious things, she kept me going and going. Isn’t this how the military breaks their prisoners? Lack of sleep, push, pain, push, pain, push. I knew I was coming apart, I knew what was happening to us. The paths that we walked down, never had a peaceful end. I kept going and going, never looking back, never having time too.
She wanted more. More money, more exposure to the life, more manipulation. This meant one thing inevitably whispered her name. Call girl. Which, has a legitimate sound, and like exotic dancing, is legit, but what she had in mind was to be paraded around, bought lovely things, be spoiled with attention, and then…to culminate the affair. Any woman would love that, but she wanted to make a business of it. In other words, a prostitute. I found this out, not by her telling me, breaking it to me easy like the private parties, but by soul wrecking surprise. I came to the club to drop off flowers, a spontaneous thing I did for her, my Angel. One of the girls met me at the door. She said that my Angel wasn’t there. She left with another guy. There it was, the brilliant crack of lightning as my mind and world shredded down the middle and splintered into a thousand self-destructive shards. Those shards hungered for more than my destruction. Oh no, I had more sinister intentions. Rage, mixed with betrayal, love and overwhelming curiosity to know all the facts. Perfect for creating a devil for my angel. I found the code to her voice mail (she still had the generic code set on it, go figure) and listened to the man arrange the date. I listened from the pay phone outside a little rat hole back city bar. It was dark, all the lights seemed yellow, dim, and barely holding their own. Leaning against the booth I replayed it over and over. Tears began, coursing down my cheeks in an angry, hurt mess. They would not be the last tears, nor would I be the the only one crying.
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| ning |
The face of an angel. Papa always told me to beware of the woman who had the face of an angel. I’m not referring to natural beauty, but the innocent purity and helpless look that compels men to protect her, regardless of their logic. That’s how it was with her, an angel. I should have known better, my guard was down, my heart was broken, my mind was confused, all from going through a hell on earth known as divorce. I managed to find my solace, like so many others, at the local brewery, throwing down drink after drink in an attempt to drown myself or lose myself. I was at a low that only happens once in a lifetime, I lost everything, hell, I even lost my teeth to an unfortunate, “turn of events” known as getting my ass stomped. At that time, I figured, hell might as well lose these too, and spit them out at the feet my attacker, spitting out more than teeth, I spit out my self respect and self esteem. This is where she found me, a woman like that finds you, like a wolf finds a rabbit . I sat alone, a good drunk at the edge of the dance floor eyeballing the pretty young things, an old guy with no front teeth. I was as content as you could be, spending the last dime, on the last drink, and knowing I had nothing left to lose. I sat, unaware of the changes that were about to happen, and happen quickly, like lightning, and about as unexpected too. Turning up my beer to ease my pain, I lowered it satisfied, just as the angel approached. It was a line dance and the whole line of women were advancing like troops on the field, I sat giddy, like a kid in a candy store. But she, 18 years my junior, she stopped my whole world. Black tight pants with a gold belt that followed the curve of her waist and accentuated every not so subtle twist of her strut. She purposely stepped a little further than the rest of the line until she was directly in front of me. Me, a silly man, a deer in the headlights, eyes wide open, not knowing the wreck about to happen. Ignorance and lust, nothing like it to make a man sit stunned, a mark in every sense of the word, the angel, she knew she had me, she knew. That was it, she knew what she was going to do.
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| annallese |
Opinions Of Eye 