Saturday, June 30, 2007

Beside Me

beside me. a flutter of orange and a flutter of black,
keeping my pedal strokes in tune with each flap.

even out my pace to keep it in line,
for this stretch of pace the pleasure's all mine.

give it an inner smile, gaze until it's gone,
keeping up with the beat that I knew all along.

Saturday, June 9, 2007

When Everything Made Sense

She stood behind me on the stairwell, not putting her hand on my shoulder, not whispering in my ear, not touching me or saying anything at all. But I heard her carefully padded feet pound mercilessly on the carpeted stairs.

I had paused, momentarily indefinitely, waiting for her. I wanted to turn but did not. I wanted to embrace her but would not. I wanted to tell her everything was going to be alright, but could not. For it wasn't going to be alright for anyone, except for those few billions lucky enough to exist outside my head.

I was doomed.

I continued down those stairs flawlessly, out the door, planning to return only after a very long eternity. I had seen a ghost in her eyes as we stood on the stairwell, and that ghost reminded me of things I could not remember, a year ago when everything made sense.

At Sixflags in DC and Southern Europe, or, Both A Very Good Trip and a Very Bad Trip (Mature)

Mature Content
--

I woke up with my head touching the floor. I sat up, and realized I had been lying on the floor, my legs in the air, entangled in my bedsheets. I pulled them out easily, now that I was awake and could do it logically, rather than thrashing out in my sleep and making it worse.

I stood and groaned, then headed downstairs when the room had stopped spinning. I started grabbing breakfast before I looked at the time, then shook my head again and mistakenly set myself on the tilt-a-whirl again.

Not breakfast. Lunch. And I was going to have to be more careful about disagreeing with myself: it was dangerous work.

"Where's my hazard pay for all this?"

"It's over here."

I turned quickly, still not having learned my lesson, and forgetting that I hadn't realized that I'd spoken aloud.
When the room stopped spinning for the third time, and undoubtedly it wouldn't be the last before the day was done judging by my learning curve, I noticed her. At first, I thought she was naked, but as my balance and some minute sense of reason returned, I remembered there was more to a girl than her chest.

She was wearing my pants.

Momentarily confused (or momentarily experiencing an increased sense of confusion, as I was already quite confused to begin with), I looked down. She was indeed wearing my pants. And I wasn't.

Her legs in my pants started growing bigger, and out of the blurriness and slowly decreasing levels of confusion I realized three things: my black pants didn't have silver threading, but heavy chains; I'd left my glasses behind somewhere, probably upstairs with the rest of my clothes and all of hers; and she wasn't getting any bigger, but really walking towards me. As I remembered there was more to a sexy girl than great pants, I noticed the waistline was hanging precariously low around her hips. I thought very quickly and briefly about how heavy the chains seemed when I first got the pants, and how many hours it had taken me to get used to them and adjust the waistband so they didn't drop to an unsightly obscene height regardless of whether the waistband-string was tied or not. Either she hadn't had the time or hadn't bothered, and the waistband-string dangled and swayed between her legs as she walked.

My gaze journeyed upward again as I realized that her trek across the room had come to an end, and was barely standing a foot away from the summit. Me. I regretfully quickly traversed her beauteous mountains, and up to her glowing, seductive eyes.

She smiled, and I moaned as she led me to my own peak, before the world started spinning again. I blacked out just as my mind exploded and the last I saw, it had started snowing on the Alps.

~

I woke with my head touching the floor. I tried to move, but my hips were caught in some sort of vice. The Washington Monument was flooded, and then it exploded.

~

I woke up with my head touching the floor. I sat up, and realized I had been lying on the floor, my legs entangled in my goth pants and their chains. I pulled them out easily, now that I was awake and could do it logically, rather than thrashing out in my sleep and making it worse. For some reason I was very tired, and my hands were sticky, but I couldn't remember why.

I stood and groaned, then headed downstairs when the room had stopped spinning. I started grabbing breakfast before I looked at the time, then shook my head again and mistakenly set myself on the tilt-a-whirl again.

Not breakfast. Dinner. And I had a feeling it was going to be a very long day.