Kidneys and Sex

Kidneys and sex.

Things that are perfectly legal to give away but strictly illegal to sell for a thousand, Alex.

Americans are so backassward is certain ways yet quite progressive in others that it literally pains my body when I begin to think of how beautiful yet still primitive my beloved country is. Yay, USA. Bummer, America.

Those that say this is the greatest country in the world have rarely lived in other countries to have a proper frame of reference. This is a supreme country no doubt, but the greatest in the world? Only a nation that crowns its best  sports teams  “champions of the world” while solely competing within its own borders should be viewed as suspect at the very least.

Merry Christmas. The only holiday that transcends all others through media, commercialism and culture, 95% of the American population considers it to be a preeminent holiday despite that barely half of us consider it to be actually religious. Happy Winter Solstice, Scroogy McChristianson.

The Super Bowl. The Stock Market. Colonialism. My god.

Our god, bless America and all its voracious ambitions and love of self. Bless us all for merely being born here or have emigrated here, or being guests here, being fortunate enough to enjoy it’s marvels, spoils and quietly widening wage gap.

I got panhandled for a whole dollar yesterday.

If I had given the beggar a kidney or intercourse, I’d be within the bounds of the law. I proffered a cigarette instead.

Americans.

We all got some serious delusions. And gumption.

Bless us all.

People’s Republic of Platonica

Is Platonicville a place? Because I know this beautifully grey area where there is no messing around from the neck down and the sunsets are often witnessed from a river gorge or a cascade mountainside. If there’s a city council on which I could run, it would be in Platonictown. I’ve heard their trees are as green as giant crayons and their ice cream looks like diamonds while tasting like pure gold. Or is it pure god?

The Isle of Platonic has no weird complications from unspoken expectations, there is freedom of affection without pressure to perform, no need to lay claim or to please the other party for needless validation or acceptance through pleasure and there’s no obligation of explanation or exclusivity.

It’s a special place where every other quality of a relationship grows more prevalent and relevant, like intellect, perception, beliefs, values, ambitions, histories and ideas. Character and personality push to the forefront of conversation and the mundane pursuit for the endgame of sex is weirdly relegated to the forgotten areas and dilapidated neighborhoods of Platonicburg. Remaining unimportant, redundant, basic.

This is Platonic City. A place of beautiful ambiguity and endless possibility where I will find solace until both confidence and desire rises again and takes over my body like a reckless teenager drunk on ambition or a blind alien who just jumped from a crashing, flaming, punk rock spaceship.

Strangely, finding this place will be just as much fun as staying there for awhile.

Untitled. Unrequited. Unbridled. Undecided.

The breath she steals and the glances she shoots quickly sweep across the room like random death and feels like a slap on bare skin or the fierce blow of a blast furnace.

Asks me to take her, own her, smother, pull her hair like a mad, torn lover, from behind she pushes against me and she juts out, lithe and sultry, and I struggle to keep my hands off her. Pin her down and push the moan from her lungs and I’m fighting every impulse not to tear into every inch of her writhing body. Like a sleek reptile dipped in a reckless river, she is the purest animal reacting to a ravaging, primitive human action.

My mouth cannot stop trying to swallow her lips, I’m doomed to be indentured by her eyes, power and slithering hips.

Aggression gives way to concession as it becomes key to salvation from her keen insight, her sharp, poignant answers and observations that leave most in the dust. Her age is a number distant and arbitrary and despite being unable to ignore the arithmetic, I relax knowing that math has never been my best subject.

Sick and Riveted

It’s going to burn hard and swift, be action-packed with sex, art and violence then suddenly conclude leaving nothing but dizziness and a beautifully fed brain.

Pure minds and filthy intention, summer’s ensanguined appearance has left me longing for languid days of sloth peppered with moments of heart-smashing adrenaline. Instead of the other way around.

You’ll eventually have a fleeting moment with some guy which will be so insanely intense that it will be all you can do to just hang on and watch the scenery blur by. Naturally, it will eventually dissipate and a rift will be defined by both covert and obvious differences between you two. Fortunately, not before you see the beautifully new and wonderful things that compose the world all the while keeping the boy in check. You’re going to learn more about yourself than you ever thought possible, realize the intricate flaws of men and their pure desire to please the whims of women, you’ll glean a strange and wonderful experience from someone who won’t twist you out or wreck your spirit. Despite being furious and quick, it will be a most memorable trip.

It will turn your youth into a dirty year in a matter of seconds, reveal your sweet, vile desire and exploit your every inch of skin as if it were a forbidden land being crossed by a sick and riveted conquistador.

Coincidental Moon

How do we never forget and always pine
For words that wander around sublime
As years dissolve with each boy and girl
That reminds us both that we’re designed

To laugh and lust and scream like wild
Ravenous animals whose blood is riled
By what seems innocuous
When our number’s dialed?

Questions become desire like how a child grows. Beginning steeped in blood and rising with each moment until enough curiosity and shadowy hints feeds the tease and it blooms into a beautiful monster, starving for substance and fleshy answers. There is a particular roiling that begins in the stomach and then rises up through the throat then out the mouth and it’s a cloud of fury, a stunning vapor of words that begs questions, delivers demands and exposes the reasons why we come together.

Bluffer

In the middle of that ungodly busy little bar we stood, you stroking my pinky and giving me a look as if I was crazy to be stricken or smitten by li’l ol’ you.

Last week when you backed into the kitchen and demanded the statement you knew I had for you, in the midst of my frantic madness, in front of half the restaurant staff…all I could muster and grunt was some pedestrian expletive.

After today if you call me out in front of others I will deliver the goods you seek because I’m fairly certain that you want me to instigate your beautiful destruction by announcing our dark tryst. Assured that I’m the one to be the catalyst for your impending pleasure, the one to feed ALL of your senses instead of just the handful, your nonchalance is brazen as is your persuasion in making me do the dirty work to sweep away the filthy mess you know is about to occur.

We spoke briefly earlier but writing it makes it cement.

If and when I’m inside your body I will, without intent, truly ruin you. I will make you feel ways you cannot quite yet imagine and for every statement you utter that brings me down to earth I will trigger a response from your wicked, wily body that will be so villainous you will beg to be tied down as to not writhe out of your own skin. (Your spells have equal measure in torturing me as well.)

You’re all about calling bluffs, and I, love, am the last one you want to do that with, yeah?

Or am I the first one?

Hmm.