everything you don't want's Journal
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everything you don't want's LiveJournal:
| Thursday, November 10th, 2005 | | 7:08 pm |
i remember you like mouthfuls. retrospectively filling, spilling over my lips uncontainable. your savory skin, the pungency of the places most people forget--once with my face buried into the rich cheese beneath your breasts. once with my tongue lapping a rash between your thighs and the breads baked there, rising, fingerprints pressed into dough. twice and the meal of your lower back--the thickness of fat over meat sucked into my mouth, salty and the issue of how hard to bite. pull up your skin and show me scar tissue, i'd whisper and watch the shivers travel across you, nipples rising, smile stifled--bitten in your cheek. pull apart your ass and show me how you fuck yourself dirty, and your disappearing fingers. dry bones brittle, breaking into you like needles, prickly little pick-locks. heft of your body in both hands, pulled up and the rivers stretched over your hips--years running through you like rings in a tree. hungrily, especially where you were never touched, i feasted--on fetid skin, on broken flesh, on tastes i'd force my face into for your sake. to make you feel: my teeth nip, my tongue tip, the greedy mouthfuls of what you considered unpalatable and the enjoyment. devouring my first favored meal. | | Thursday, November 3rd, 2005 | | 12:43 am |
it's so tiny anymore, the hole where you peek through. talking about pinpricks and the sun shining through me, patterned against the stucco in summer. it's smaller, the way i miss you, the pinprick through the first layer of skin on my finger. i don't like feeling dumb about it. blind because i'd wished it true. how all your pretty words strung together, beautifully loopy like a scarf you made for me. purple glitter and gone to good will, but not out of spite. it's smaller, less meaningful, healing pinprick through my skin. places you'd rest your eye close to see inside at my heart beating. the breath warm and the way your mouth tugged at me, pins in my nipples, pricks of your sharp teeth. i'm healing, in one way, smaller. but i wish we could rewind, twined again-- fitting tightly again around my finger. i miss our banter and promises. i miss your bullshit. i miss your pinprick when it was bigger, bold-fisted. strong enough to punch a hole in the sky. | | Wednesday, July 21st, 2004 | | 10:10 am |
| | Monday, April 19th, 2004 | | 9:33 am |
| | Sunday, February 15th, 2004 | | 11:14 am |
'you're a bad little lamb. get ready.' | | Friday, October 3rd, 2003 | | 11:36 am |
emtpy threat
I'm sick. to the core. sick and slick and ...searching. if I have to go one more day without something meaningful touching me roughly, I'll fold into myself and scab over. I'll fold onto myself, crumpling pile of flesh, going cold. I want to bleed. I want to want. I want to burn burn burn. if I have to go one more day half-glassed, more empty than anything.... I'll give in. to the first person who stares hard and curls one finger my way. | | Tuesday, September 23rd, 2003 | | 10:34 am |
I took baby steps to get here. the tiniest inches that stretched to miles after awhile of about 20 years. my feet, extended fully, heel to flipper. cramping over the distance. pressing forward. so that I might reach whatever it was that gnawed at the base of me with dull teeth, finally cutting to the bone. and alone, I pulled it from me. to see the face, or not. to hear the voice, or stare at the silence. you're never quite prepared to see your answers. when it means determination. pain for pleasure. when it involves a hand on the back of my head, forcing will against resistance. when my knees get used to the knubby, itchy texture of carpet. when you fill my mouth and fill it even further. a slack chin, an alternate passage of breath. a release that shivers up my body, lowers my shoulders, giving identity away to the rhythm of sucking. a vessel. a table for your stronger hands to rest upon. a weaker, pliable mind, dividing, accepting. a supple throat. a grasping cunt. an ass to tear into, pillow under hips. say you find a key. somehow you know which lock it fits into. the lock to a door you've always wanted to open. and then you discover you're the door. and you wait, somewhat impatiently, for someone to walk through. | | Tuesday, August 26th, 2003 | | 12:22 pm |
| | Thursday, July 3rd, 2003 | | 10:31 am |
cutting myself open and nothing spilling out but pills and empty tissue. it's...dry. cavernous, flesh scraps on bones, hanging there, tenderized with pain killers. flies hovering, burrowing, making nests. nothing but fuck to keep me alive. nothing sweeter than a nod, a drool on a pillow or a sidewalk. that's all. nothing else to keep me ticking but the very ends of the rope, the gutters, the asphalt prints on my skin. giving in. | | Tuesday, July 1st, 2003 | | 11:19 am |
I woke up wet, first time in so long I'd forgotten what it was like to wake up throbbing and wanting you. the pulse there on my clit, pulling my hands in, lifting the skin and twirling just right. you stirred from my movements. I cupped your ass and slipped my fingers in between the sweaty cheeks, searching for resistance. but you grumbled, mumbled something about bacon, unintelligible. rolled over to expose your cock, hardened with piss. a sight for sleepy eyes, suckling lips. but I'm selfish sometimes. I dreamt of you at a party where I was just an observer and not part of the scene, and a woman, gorgeous tan gleaming asian. legs and hair and mouth parted, breasts impossible for such a slight frame. you were trying to be good and she was all over you in a skirt so small you couldn't look away. in a top falling off her shoulders and hanging just on her nipples that were hard and staring at you and willing your fingers near. she was pulling all that cheesy playboy bullshit of dropping something and bending low, to expose her golden ass, the velvet pink of her lips, shaved bare. so ripe for your cock and a giggle with a toss of that glossy mane down her back. how could you refuse? you couldn't. she wiggled off to a restroom down a dark hallway, and you followed. mesmerized. juicy dick tip peeping from your waistband. bead of come just shining there, ready to burst. there were no words. she pulled you in and sat on the sink, wrapping those endless legs around you and sucking your lips into her hungry mouth. your fingers pulling at her top and pulling at her ripe, stiff little nipples, and slipping into her wetness, so wet like our first time, and you moaned into her tongue and lips, chewing, slurping. she put a hand on your straining zipper and released you--sliding right into that hot wet with no resistance and that warm, sucking sound of her cunt grasping you. you pumped, your perfect ass bare and awkward with your pants at your ankles. this gorgeous thing locked onto your mouth, your cock, around your waist, your neck, thrusting and moaning and my eyes are so close I can see the wetness dripping off of where you meet, hitting the sink... in my dream, I show up and try to find you and I know you're in there, fucking this beautiful girl, and I want to see it. I've got to get there and open the door and...I want to be humiliated and stand there and not be able to pull you away. I want to see that weakness for her and your dick so hard inside her. I want you to say 'I can't help it, please understand' your voice strained and almost coming. I want her to throw that gorgeous head back and laugh so hard while moaning--so I can watch her throat undulate, her impossible breasts bobbing in your face, nipples sucked into your mouth. so I can stand there and cry and come under my own hand in spite of it all. In my dream, I never get there, but the urgency has stayed with me all week. | | Thursday, June 19th, 2003 | | 8:14 pm |
I see you happening all around this place, you know. one voice to the next. different dialects. you've cut out a nice little niche for yourself. good boy. I think I finally noticed. I finally saw it coming--all those wet thighs after what you have to say. all those cunts, raw, pink, open, parted like mouths. I'm thinking, reading, dissecting. that's what I do, bored girl. idle mind. I'll see timidness in lashes. I'll spy the wrist, limp. the strength in chin, forced, trembling. that might not be as much a talent as what you pull off when you're pulling it off. that's what gets me, reaching down just where you do, finally hooking a finger and getting me open and wanting it. breathing hard through my teeth, eyes dazed, lips swelled. I never noticed before, with all this going on. this noise. I missed out on sliding down on what you have to offer. my wet hot. your thick and sweaty and stuck straight up for me. finding me. I'm ready to give up a little, I think. just give me a minute. | | Tuesday, June 17th, 2003 | | 9:43 am |
I'm whining a lot recently. sometimes when I'm whining, I'd like someone to tell me to shut the hell up. I'd like someone maybe to grab the back of my neck and force me to my knees and show me what a real hard time is. I have no one strong enough. I've surrounded myself with coddlers. but it's true, I mean, seriously. out of all the lives to live, this one isn't bad. I've survived through whatever may have been horrible enough to whine about and now here I am, grown up, full of potential, if unrealized. capable. intelligent. taken care of. no room to whine. Shut the hell up, they'd say. I'll give you something to whine about. Get down here and take this in your mouth. That oughta keep you quiet. And if you gag, you're really gonna get it. I'm not kidding. You take every inch down your throat. This is your hard time, so suck it. Suck it hard, little whining baby bitch. Poor baby fucking slut with a big fat dick in your mouth. Slurp it up, I wanna hear it. That's it. Good girl. You're a good girl. | | Thursday, March 27th, 2003 | | 1:25 pm |
masturbating contstantly and hard. fucking myself hard. everything hard. the other day the boy wasn't home and I locked myself tight in the bathroom and was jabbing into myself, juice running all down my fingers like it hadn't in so fucking long, too long, and I started hitting my head against the wall at the same time. from all the force and the good and not knowing where to go with it. but like I used to do when I was little, only...littler then. not like this. I came hard, like everything else. I jabbed my cunt into the corner of the sink at the end, pounding against my clit with that sharp edge. oh jesus. it was good and I had in mind someone dark and hard and mean behind me, making me do this. that kind of thing is eclipsing my whole self these days. I need a hobby and a job that doesn't revolve around this. I can't even go visit mom without sneaking off to the bathroom and having a quickie. it's nuts. | | Tuesday, February 25th, 2003 | | 1:09 pm |
but the thing is. see, the thing is. when you're raised a certain way, and when I say 'raised' I mean picked up and thrown across the room on occasion, you tend to associate certain behaviors with love. and sex, especially, did I mention that? I just want that. I've never had that. I just want to be below someone and have my head held back and be made to do the things I refuse, but would carry out in a heartbeat with enthusiasm and drool and come trickling down my chin. I would. I promise. but who to tell? what? some fucking daily newsrag ad that tells me they'll give me what I want? some freak I never met and might tell me I'm a freak too? like anyone doesn't fucking know that. thank god no one knows I'm here. | | Thursday, February 20th, 2003 | | 1:00 pm |
we went to vegas for v-day. something in that city makes me alive and I always want to let go of his hand and run away in the crowd, to fuck that old man high roller and let him dig his dirty yellow nails into my ass. to become that crack addict on the bus, screaming out a woman's name, fleas in my beard. we finally saw siegfriend and roy and it was so wonderful and fop, more than I can explain. delicious. and afterwards, at the bar and drinks drinks drinks until I could shuck my panties while sitting on a stool and let him play with me. crowded enough, making the tip of his cock poke from his waistband. poor boy. he likes to watch, but he won't be the star of the show, and that's okay. I think I like it that way. we had a room at the top of the luxor with a jacuzzi tub and view of the strip. we got soapy and silly, took so many pictures of: cock in mouth, cock in ass, dildo in ass, cock in cunt, tongue in cunt, tongue in ass, etc. more more. a hard fuck against the window and I know no one can see up there, but the thought of my body, soapy and pressed against the glass and him ramming it all in there with animal will (haha) made it the best night in the while. I'm glad I didn't have to clean up that mess. | | Monday, January 6th, 2003 | | 12:22 pm |
saw ex girlfriend and tried not to fuck her. oh, she tries hard, though--the way she sucks her stubby fingers between those lips and draws them out slowly, let's them rest there, coy and cheesy. makes me want to reach across the table and pull her hair, which I think she'd like, actually. but I don't. we went back to her mother's house and sat on her childhood bed and I tried not to fuck her, the same sheets we'd always rolled around in, never changed. greasy stains from pizza eaten in bed and her come, and mine, I bet. we found one of her old barrista aprons behind the bookshelves and I said, Put it on. I always liked her in an apron, the pockets all full-up with her girlie things; lip glosses, sparkly pens, worry beads. she took her clothes off and wrapped the apron around her full hips, those hips, those hips and those lips where I'd spent hours. I said Put your clothes back on, but she wouldn't. I wanted to say I can smell your cunt from here, don't you ever wash it? but I didn't. I made her crawl across the carpet to me, her apron dragging against the ground, ass high in the air. the curve of her spine. I made her suck my fingers like she'd been sucking hers earlier at the restaurant and I could feel the cream oozing from me in my jeans, I'm sure she could've smelled it, too, and I did end up grabbing a handful of her hair then, to stop...whatever it was from happening. but I didn't fuck her. | | Sunday, January 5th, 2003 | | 8:50 am |
I had to tell him what to do and he couldn't pull it off. I had to ask, finally, for a spanking and I was pissed as soon as I said it. I shouldn't have to ask. he can't tell that I need it. and when he does it, it's timid and laughable. it makes me feel mean, but I just retreat to the bathroom and run the water and play hard with myself. I want someone to look and know it, from the way I carry my body, head down. I want someone to grab my wrist so hard and throw me down. I want a hot hand coming down on my flesh until I don't need it anymore, for now. I want it so bad I've bitten through my lip thinking about it on the bus, at work, in the street. he doesn't have it. it comes with power and furrow of brow. he couldn't hurt a flea. or, he seems like a flea. he's becoming something smaller to me. |
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