Desultory and Impulsive
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A
AlliaPotestas
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The heart feels a lazy response, but I struggle to find words that don’t seem lame against your poetry. And sometimes I just need to acknowledge your writing. So lazy hearts it is. x
y=mx+b
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The heart feels a lazy response, but I struggle to find words that don’t seem lame against your poetry. And sometimes I just need to acknowledge your writing. So lazy hearts it is. x
A lazy heart
Is better than chirping crickets.
Thank you
Moochienanu
Gives hot transcript
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A lazy heart
Is better than chirping crickets.
Thank you
*makes mental note to stop chirping so much*
y=mx+b
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A
AlliaPotestas
Guest
I wish this had been available last night when I was struggling to find inspiration to help me nod off in my lonely hotel room... this very much suits the mood I was in. I cycled through one poorly written story after another, when I should have settled on using my own imagination with evocative shots like this instead...
The sound of water takes me somewhere different although.
y=mx+b
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Kimleigh
Booblicious
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y=mx+b
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Right?!
y=mx+b
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She sleeps in my shirts at night
And in the morning
She will drape them
Over the edge of the bathtub
They always look so warm
Peaceful
Comfortable
They look
How I feel
After I've come in her
Cozy
Sleepily put together
Smelling so softly of her
And although I'm not a hulking man
And my shirts don't provide her with that fully protected fully engulfed feeling of feeling even smaller than what she is... she still wears them. And she's still sexy.
And in the morning
She will drape them
Over the edge of the bathtub
They always look so warm
Peaceful
Comfortable
They look
How I feel
After I've come in her
Cozy
Sleepily put together
Smelling so softly of her
And although I'm not a hulking man
And my shirts don't provide her with that fully protected fully engulfed feeling of feeling even smaller than what she is... she still wears them. And she's still sexy.
y=mx+b
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I slip into this thing that I am not
And I am not.
No nothing sleeps in me
And says no thoughts my dreams cannot see
She writes me again
A letter
About her day
Her life
Her love...
...that I am not.
And I read it
And touch her face
And I can feel the feather soft
Of her hair
Once again upon the flesh of my lips.
I want to open my eyes
And see her laying there
Naked
Not naked like you think
But naked
Behind her eyes
Processing the words
My heart spoke
"Spikes and blood..."
Those were the words he spoke
Of a time he said he wished he could forget.
"Such memories serve no lesson for the person who remembers them."
I wanted to press him more
...to dig deeper
To feel the blood fresh flesh he felt
--he tasted that day.
But it was just another story.
Another something he just assume to forget
And not have another, the likes of me
To pry.
I took a sip of my coffee
He, of his tea.
The knuckles of his fingers
...the only thing really showing is age. His strength.
And his experience.
And I am not.
No nothing sleeps in me
And says no thoughts my dreams cannot see
She writes me again
A letter
About her day
Her life
Her love...
...that I am not.
And I read it
And touch her face
And I can feel the feather soft
Of her hair
Once again upon the flesh of my lips.
I want to open my eyes
And see her laying there
Naked
Not naked like you think
But naked
Behind her eyes
Processing the words
My heart spoke
"Spikes and blood..."
Those were the words he spoke
Of a time he said he wished he could forget.
"Such memories serve no lesson for the person who remembers them."
I wanted to press him more
...to dig deeper
To feel the blood fresh flesh he felt
--he tasted that day.
But it was just another story.
Another something he just assume to forget
And not have another, the likes of me
To pry.
I took a sip of my coffee
He, of his tea.
The knuckles of his fingers
...the only thing really showing is age. His strength.
And his experience.
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y=mx+b
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That night
He drempt of an inability
To save the things he loved
From being lost
A blackness
A void
A forest full of a flameless fire
His flesh being torn off
And pasted back on
By vomiting maggots
Images of his thoughts
Bled through his nose
Like blood clot bloated leeches
And he took a hammer to each one
Smashing each one back to Oblivion
He drempt of an inability
To save the things he loved
From being lost
A blackness
A void
A forest full of a flameless fire
His flesh being torn off
And pasted back on
By vomiting maggots
Images of his thoughts
Bled through his nose
Like blood clot bloated leeches
And he took a hammer to each one
Smashing each one back to Oblivion
y=mx+b
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He woke up
Falling into bed
Blankets
Falling atop
Like the leaves of a sugar maple
And he felt bright like the child he once was
Back before the winter of life took hold.
He didn't like it
He didn't like the pull of the moon
He didn't like how sleep took more than its share of control.
He sat naked on the edge of his bed
Spread his legs
And sent an arching stream of piss into the air
This was his room
His territory
His world
Dreams and all
No one
No... Thing
Was to cross back into it.
Not without asking his permission.
Falling into bed
Blankets
Falling atop
Like the leaves of a sugar maple
And he felt bright like the child he once was
Back before the winter of life took hold.
He didn't like it
He didn't like the pull of the moon
He didn't like how sleep took more than its share of control.
He sat naked on the edge of his bed
Spread his legs
And sent an arching stream of piss into the air
This was his room
His territory
His world
Dreams and all
No one
No... Thing
Was to cross back into it.
Not without asking his permission.
Misshotndeep
Tumbleweed
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Your thoughts and soul are so deep. Thank you for sharing both with us.
y=mx+b
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Thank you
Somewhere there's a funny version of me coming up with a deflecting quip about being all about fucking bitches all up in this place and doing whatever it takes to live that dream even if it means presenting myself other than what i am.
But I'm not all that funny or imaginative
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y=mx+b
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I want a curling iron...
The kind where you can adjust the temperature of it on the handle.
I'd like to use it on a woman.
I'd tie her down
Knees bent and spread apart.
She'd be blindfolded and naked
A ball-gag in her mouth.
I'd finger her
I'd get her wet
And whisper things into her ear
I'd continue to finger her
And use her wetness to lube her asshole.
My lips would kiss down her neck
And once they found her nipple
I would suck it in like a famished infant
And I would pull on it and nurse from it
Even though
Itt may not have anything
To give.
My fingers would be sliding in and out of her
Two, three, four at a time
And I would continue working my way down
Until my face found her crotch
...and my tongue found her clit.
And I would work her
And tease her
And bring her to the edge
And slowly
I would
Slide
The curling iron
Into her asshole
And my eating her out
Would continue
And it would continue
As I felt the heat of the curling iron
Radiate
Up
Against my neck and chin
Adjusting the temperature
Slowly
Pushing the curling iron
Deeper
Into her
And opening it up
Like a speculum
And pulling back
Closing it
Pulling it out just a little bit
Then opening it again
Stretching her out
Turning down the heat
...only to turn it up again
Confusing her body
Into not knowing
If she's being burned
Or torn open.
The kind where you can adjust the temperature of it on the handle.
I'd like to use it on a woman.
I'd tie her down
Knees bent and spread apart.
She'd be blindfolded and naked
A ball-gag in her mouth.
I'd finger her
I'd get her wet
And whisper things into her ear
I'd continue to finger her
And use her wetness to lube her asshole.
My lips would kiss down her neck
And once they found her nipple
I would suck it in like a famished infant
And I would pull on it and nurse from it
Even though
Itt may not have anything
To give.
My fingers would be sliding in and out of her
Two, three, four at a time
And I would continue working my way down
Until my face found her crotch
...and my tongue found her clit.
And I would work her
And tease her
And bring her to the edge
And slowly
I would
Slide
The curling iron
Into her asshole
And my eating her out
Would continue
And it would continue
As I felt the heat of the curling iron
Radiate
Up
Against my neck and chin
Adjusting the temperature
Slowly
Pushing the curling iron
Deeper
Into her
And opening it up
Like a speculum
And pulling back
Closing it
Pulling it out just a little bit
Then opening it again
Stretching her out
Turning down the heat
...only to turn it up again
Confusing her body
Into not knowing
If she's being burned
Or torn open.
y=mx+b
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Pre-bedtime, post-work nonsense
I don't want to shower
But I need to
Part of me wants to shame you
Sleep on the couch?
Gross undercovers
All I had to do was change a fuse
I washed my hands but they are still filthy
My skin is dry
I am superstitious
And sometimes paranoid
Back when I was younger and had discovered masturbation and ejaculation I became worried that my unofficial girlfriend that I wanted to be my girlfriend but still didn't know how to go about procuring a girlfriend would get pregnant from the dried cum on my underwear that I wore under the shorts I was wearing when we were swimming in the lake at the company picnic were my mom worked.
I spent the whole summer convinced that she was. And because this was pre-internet and I only saw her one day out of the whole summer and year I was certain that she was and her parents were upset and hated me and because they were of the crazy Christian type they locked her in the basement until she gave birth so as to avoid shame on the family and would claim that they had adopted another baby once she did.
I don't want to shower
But I need to
Part of me wants to shame you
Sleep on the couch?
Gross undercovers
All I had to do was change a fuse
I washed my hands but they are still filthy
My skin is dry
I am superstitious
And sometimes paranoid
Back when I was younger and had discovered masturbation and ejaculation I became worried that my unofficial girlfriend that I wanted to be my girlfriend but still didn't know how to go about procuring a girlfriend would get pregnant from the dried cum on my underwear that I wore under the shorts I was wearing when we were swimming in the lake at the company picnic were my mom worked.
I spent the whole summer convinced that she was. And because this was pre-internet and I only saw her one day out of the whole summer and year I was certain that she was and her parents were upset and hated me and because they were of the crazy Christian type they locked her in the basement until she gave birth so as to avoid shame on the family and would claim that they had adopted another baby once she did.
y=mx+b
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I am reminded of another story from my youth about procuring a girlfriend and how fucking I am
Well... not really clueless. But by-and-large skeptical of myself as being... worthwhile to/for the opposite sex?
The conversation took place around the same age of my immaculate lake baby story.
I was at friends house. It was a sleepover. Just he and I. And as the light went out we got to talking about chicks and who was the hottest and what we would do with them etc... but we were always vague about it until we weren't and we were talking about the hot chick and came up with the usual... "what would you do if she showed up right now wanting to fuck [you]?"
It was a common veiled ploy between us to come up with a story to make the other hard... but that's a whole nother post for a later day. Maybe.
I digress...
So we asked this question of each other.
My honest genuine reply? "Why. Why do you want to fuck me?"
My friend was like.... "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? If so-and-so popular hot chick came in here tits out topless horny as fuck, grabbed your dick wanting to fuck... right fucking now... you would ask her... why?"
And I was like... "well... yeah."
And that's when I learned how I was different than all the other boys.
Well... not really clueless. But by-and-large skeptical of myself as being... worthwhile to/for the opposite sex?
The conversation took place around the same age of my immaculate lake baby story.
I was at friends house. It was a sleepover. Just he and I. And as the light went out we got to talking about chicks and who was the hottest and what we would do with them etc... but we were always vague about it until we weren't and we were talking about the hot chick and came up with the usual... "what would you do if she showed up right now wanting to fuck [you]?"
It was a common veiled ploy between us to come up with a story to make the other hard... but that's a whole nother post for a later day. Maybe.
I digress...
So we asked this question of each other.
My honest genuine reply? "Why. Why do you want to fuck me?"
My friend was like.... "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? If so-and-so popular hot chick came in here tits out topless horny as fuck, grabbed your dick wanting to fuck... right fucking now... you would ask her... why?"
And I was like... "well... yeah."
And that's when I learned how I was different than all the other boys.
y=mx+b
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Misshotndeep
Tumbleweed
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y=mx+b
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Had I won the lottery
I would disappear.
Just as everyone else who buys a ticket
I get to day dreaming about if I won.
I normally don't play
I usually forget it's even a thing up until people start talking about it and usually I forget to buy a ticket and it usually resolves itself before I do and it starts all over again and I'm back to forgetting.
But yeah... I'll buy a ticket. And then I blow the day full of hopes and dreams
Or whatever.
I used to think all sorts of thoughts about what I'd do. My selfishness would give way to altruism and charity then cycle back to selfishness.
But ultimately? I couldn't give two shits about anything.
The only luxury I want
Is that to be able to just disappear.
To be struck from the record
To pass on through the night
unseen
unheard
I of course do that now
I guess.
We all do to some degree
But it's always through a mire of doubt and insecurity
At least... that's how it seems to me.
I would disappear.
Just as everyone else who buys a ticket
I get to day dreaming about if I won.
I normally don't play
I usually forget it's even a thing up until people start talking about it and usually I forget to buy a ticket and it usually resolves itself before I do and it starts all over again and I'm back to forgetting.
But yeah... I'll buy a ticket. And then I blow the day full of hopes and dreams
Or whatever.
I used to think all sorts of thoughts about what I'd do. My selfishness would give way to altruism and charity then cycle back to selfishness.
But ultimately? I couldn't give two shits about anything.
The only luxury I want
Is that to be able to just disappear.
To be struck from the record
To pass on through the night
unseen
unheard
I of course do that now
I guess.
We all do to some degree
But it's always through a mire of doubt and insecurity
At least... that's how it seems to me.
y=mx+b
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I asked him about the underworld.
He turned to me with a look somewhere between disappointment, anger, and exhaustion. In his silence I read "are you seriously asking me this?"
He turned back and studied all the others out and about in the park. There was a feel about everyone. It was that point in spring were you wanted to... had to be outside, but the ground was still wet. The air was still cold between the rays of the sun. And there wasn't anything really to do outside.
"Is there an overworld?"
The words he spoke were tired, honest, and reflective. I wanted to say "what?" But knew that would be stupid of me.
"Look at that woman pushing the stroller." "What do you suppose she's feeling?"
I looked out to discover that I didn't see her.
Not right away.
"What took you so long to see her?"
This question pissed me off and I wanted to reply back how I wasn't some bullshit supernatural werewolf fuckhead.
But I didn't.
I didn't because it didn't take supernatural powers to see her. She was right there.
"She's feeling invisable."
"She's also feeling amorous."
"She wants to breed again and is shaming herself for feeling such thoughts because she's a mother. If she let's her thoughts go she won't trust herself."
"There's your underworld. A fraction of it. Start there."
He turned to me with a look somewhere between disappointment, anger, and exhaustion. In his silence I read "are you seriously asking me this?"
He turned back and studied all the others out and about in the park. There was a feel about everyone. It was that point in spring were you wanted to... had to be outside, but the ground was still wet. The air was still cold between the rays of the sun. And there wasn't anything really to do outside.
"Is there an overworld?"
The words he spoke were tired, honest, and reflective. I wanted to say "what?" But knew that would be stupid of me.
"Look at that woman pushing the stroller." "What do you suppose she's feeling?"
I looked out to discover that I didn't see her.
Not right away.
"What took you so long to see her?"
This question pissed me off and I wanted to reply back how I wasn't some bullshit supernatural werewolf fuckhead.
But I didn't.
I didn't because it didn't take supernatural powers to see her. She was right there.
"She's feeling invisable."
"She's also feeling amorous."
"She wants to breed again and is shaming herself for feeling such thoughts because she's a mother. If she let's her thoughts go she won't trust herself."
"There's your underworld. A fraction of it. Start there."
