The Game

You (21 years old, jondice blonde, elementary speech impediment traces, perfect straight teeth without the evidence of braces. Weak vocabulary, arms that pin me up against walls, arms that never shake. Boy with grey sweater, calloused hands and childish laugh. Not sober.) ask me (Brunette nebula, French Kiss Rocket Scientist with cigarette calorie kryptonite. Acne scar and freckle constellations. Girl who loves you, would never tell you, out loud.) to meet you, in the park outside my apartment at 2 in the morning simply because you know I’ll show up.  
           

The park, my park, is dark dry and tumored with red maple, elm and pine. I’m staring into inside from the street under a light so you can see me, but nothing moves. You’re hiding. No. You’re inviting. You run in the background, dodging tree trunks, trash cans, and playground equipment. You, inebriated apparition, butcher of slumber. Boy who expands my ribcage, gorges my pink lungs with ugly white smoke, whose name I breathe cough and choke, are playing a game.
           

Street light halo, sleep walking red riding hood (me) I hear vivid and ghastly “come find me.” And I take off into the park. Drop dead sprint, heels kissing asphalt, concrete, and then dirt, pine needles and sawdust. And I can hear you sense the chase and your sneakers smacking against the ground from eleven different directions.
           

You, champagne hallucination, breathing heavy and laughing are leaving audio fingerprints which my ears are obsessing. Under my red hood I’m searching, racing, climbing, trying to decipher the difference between what is wood, bark, pulp and what is blush skin cells, intoxicated muscle fiber, and boy consciousness.  You, drunken shadow poltergeist, are haunting me on this playground. And I, eager and faint valentine wonder to myself: when did this autumn night become so hot?
           

The soil beneath my flats begins to tip, and I swallowed into inertia suddenly recognize every pound of me, which is falling hard into grass and dirt. We (limbs, bones, synapses, brain and breath) are fainting. And for the next 12 seconds, as a single unit will envelope into horrid black secret.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

           

You, green center hazel iris, have rushed out of underground to rescue me. This was how I won the game, with low blood sugar and organic adrenaline.
           

You say: Red Riding Hood, I’m sorry.
           

I say: You’re killing me. Now, what is it you want at 2:14 in the morning?

Dear Monday

Autumn Equinox Spill Your Guts Horror Show Phantasm.
I wear my heart, held in front
use it as body armor.
It catches all battle scars
and bruises.
I wear my ego, resting on hips
use it as a weapon.
You'd be appalled by the damage it can do.
She says, I can get through this fall without tucking heart strings
into the back pocket jeans
of those college boys.
[she lied]
She wakes up and gets out those rusty garden shears.
Pauses before she severs.


How much longer until they've used her up?
and she becomes a girl so angry
no boy will want to play?


How much longer until there's nothing left to use.


"Hey so um....i'm not used to going out with someone and then not having them make an effort to see me again. I'm assuming you're busy cause it hurts a lot less than thinking this was a hit it and quit it kind of deal...which if it was, that's ok. I just regret paying for your sushi....jokes. I'm not the kind of girl that can do casual sex and not get hurt. I'm way too sensitive. so when I text you with no response and you appear to have stopped making any efforts to get to know me better, i just start feeling pathetic. I just don't want to bother you if you're not planning on seeing me again. you don't have to respond, you're lack of an answer will let me know and i can just stop thinking about it. no hard feelings, whatever you're reason, i understand"


and Cut.

7 rules: A Cautionary Tale

     There are rules to this you know. Rules made by asshole ex's and the angriest girls. Rules that are born in between wet red faces and damp pillows. Never again we say. Never Again.

     I hate the term "booty call". It cheapen it. This is how I look at it, there are people in this world who lay in bed, stare up at their ceilings, and make the decision: I'm not spending tonight alone. People who take control of their hormones, or loneliness, or just feel like fucking someone.
*Note: I'm not referring to a one night stand. I'm talking about a series of one night stands. Nights of spontaneous sex that keep reoccurring with one other person. No strings attached.

     It doesn't matter the reason why we do it. Some of us just have too much personality, too much love, you have to find someone to rub it off on to...into...and some carry too much trauma and are looking for a legitimate distraction. What's more distracting than sticking your dick into something?

     Rule One: Get something out of it. Don't venture into something you're not coming out a little bit more profited by. I'm serious, don't do it for the other person. They're not doing it for you. You'll lose and with stakes like these you'd be an idiot to gamble.

"You want to maybe come over tonight. I know it's late."

                                 "Of course" I say

"Just a heads up, I might just want to go to bed, I'm down to fuck, but I might just want to sleep"

                                    "That works" I say

     Rule Two: Keep a distance, The closer you get to the trainwreck,the uglier it gets. The messier it becomes. Sit tight in your recliner and just watch vicariously on your TV set. You can admire, but you won't feel it. You'll stay in awe, you won't go into shock, don't attach yourself to something disastrous. 

Standing there, watching him soak in beats and bass, watching him translate it through limbs, shoulders, hips and smile, I know I'm fucked.

I'm such a sucker for boys who can dance.

     Rule Three: Both of you have to be on the same page. It's not a relationship, it can be void of trust and communication. But at some point, you're going to have to say "I'm here, where are you?"

December:

"I don't want you thinking this is like a thing. I don't want to date you" he says

"Oh please honey, that's not who I am. I'm already someone's girlfriend. It's a mutual thing. I'm using you. I'm only choosing you because you're putting out. I don't care why you're choosing me, I just want you tonight" I say

July:

She asks: "Do you still feel that way?"

I answer: "I kind of have to. But no, I haven't for awhile."

     Rule Five: Don't do this with someone you're not willing to drop in a heart beat. Don't pick friends. In the end, when it ends, you're left without the inexpensive sex AND the shoulder to cry on. It's never worth it.

Sitting on the couch, watching TV with him, and I realize I feel on edge. I couldn't sit still, couldn't be comfortable. Then it hits me. I'm waiting for him to make a move. I've driven all the way over here, I reapplied my make up, my ass is hanging out of these shorts and damnit he's just sitting there, totally respecting me.

That's when it becomes clear, I'm that douche guy I'm always complaining about. The dude who can't just watch a movie with me. Cock bag. I'm supposed to be your friend. Just chill, enjoy my company or get the fuck out. I'm such a hypocrite. 

And then...dun dun dun, the big reveal: I'm not seeing him as a piece, he's becoming my friend.

     Rule Six: Don't attempt this if you don't have the stomach for it.

Sitting here, his head's on my lap and I'm running my fingers through his blonde hair. I know I'm breaking rule number seven. Right here, I know, I'm messing all this up.

Transcript of pure Assholery

Girl: 

I write, and I pioneer polyamory in young people. I paint, I draw. I take waay too long of baths. I read and collect too many things. I'm amazing, and totally full of myself especially when it's very impolite to be so.

Stranger: 

Haha sounds like my kind of girl but what is polywhatever????

Girl:

I'm a total slut.

It means carrying on multiple relationships simultaneously, but they all know about each other, that's what makes me different from a cheater. I don't sleep around though. It's hard to explain, I just fall in love all over the place.

Stranger:

Wow...ok...uhhh..."To each his own"

Girl:

Not everyone agrees with me. I'm not asking for approval. Just don't judge me, be nice to me. So yeah, to each his own.

Stranger:

Hey I don't knock it till I try it....besides you should know I don't want any relationship with anyone right now anyways just friends maybe a lil lovin is nice

Girl:

I have too much on my plate as it is ha, but I love getting to know people which is why I gave you my number

Stranger:

Well then lets get to know each other...but if we go out one night I don't share, you should know....

Girl:

It's cool, I totally understand. I just like to be upfront about it so I'm never being accused of lying or sneaking around. I'm still amazing though. so yeah befriend me haha

Stranger:

Ok cause I'm awesome so you should feel lucky to of met me and does the word fuck buddy offend you??

Girl:

it's doesn't at all

Stranger: 

So we should try and hang out maybe wednesday...? 

Girl:

I work late but I'm down if you doing mind being up late

Stranger:

Not at all I work Wednesday night at my aunts restaurant till 9. I help serve. It's easy just smile and have fun. I used to bartend.

Girl:

I've always wanted to bartend

Stranger: 

Yeah I also have my barbers license....I told you I'm something of a big deal...hahahaha

Girl:

Awesome. Nothing I dig more than a huge ego :] jk

Stranger:

okok so why are we still texting do you live with your parents and are not supposed  to be on the phone? cause everyone should get free minutes around this time....

Girl:

I'm doing homework. I can't talk and do homework at the same time. I can text though. And no, I don't live with my rents. I live with my boyfriend.

Stranger:

For Real????

Girl:

For real. I'm complicated but really fucking honest. Sorry if it bothers you.

Stranger:

Ya that's where you lost me..so is complicated and crazy in the same guidelines for you and what's this bf do? Bother me? No. I was just trying to fuck but that puts a roadblock in the way...hmmmm

Girl:

I'm engaged, in an open relationship. I see other people. I have another guy I see on a regular basis, and I date a few others but they tend not to last because I don't have time to spare for guys who can't wrap their mind around the concept or just bring me bullshit. but i'm a brilliant friend. and I never cut those ties loose. I wasn't raised to be monogamous, so this is normal for me. People my age who only see one person and decide they only want to be with that one person for the rest of their lives, is foreign to me and something i can't understand. but i try not to place blame on them for being different. I just don't get it.

and you told me you won't share. you can't fuck me if you can't share. besides i only sleep with guys who'll invest in a relationship and you said it's not what you're looking for which is totally cool. I need more friends than fuck buddies.

Stranger:

Well good luck with that....not sure where to go from here....but yeah

Girl:

were you only talking to me because you wanted to sleep with me?

Stranger:

well if i said no that would be a lie and i don't believe in lies or breaking promises but i'm an awesome guy just maybe a few bad habits....but don't judge me on those

Girl:

I'm not. Everyone's that guy. I've been that guy. Sorry to disappoint though, its not upsetting to me...flattering even because I'm such the fucking optimist. I don't judge, I'm in no position to.

Stranger: 

SO you really wouldn't fuck me hmmm ouch....shot through the heart and you're to blame darling you give love....a bad name...hahahahaha

Girl: 

I try not to involve myself with people who aren't looking for a relationship. I have a hard time doing sex with no strings. which makes me such a girl. Its not anything against you though. I'm just too needy.

Stranger:

I'm not worried if i need companionship i'll go down town....i was just really curious about your whole ordeal

Girl:

Did I satisfy your curiosity?

Stranger:

Satisfy??? No. Intrige possilbly....arouse...more soo.....

Girl:

damn

Stranger:

So tell me you have some sexy pics you want to send me...or is that a no no on your checklist too???

Girl:

That's a no no for anybody.  I really don't have any sexy pics on my phone. Not for boyfriends, swings, or strangers. I just don't take them

Stranger:

Yawn...well since we can't fuck or send pics...it means being friends kinda sucks...is that too blunt?

Girl:

Nah just you being honest. Sorry again for not being that type of girl. Better to find out now rather than later no? Thanks for the honesty. Saves time.

Stranger:

True true.

*Like he had a chance with me.

**Not sure what's worse, the guy who's straight up with being an asshole or the guy who charades in front of me all night pretending not to be this guy.

***This helped me feel better about the guy who took me out last week and hasn't been too responsive since. It's not me, it's them.

Miss Jet Pack

I understand a bigger picture. It's sex and death. I take both to heart. They say "This is my passion. This is what I live for". I say you live for those things for pussy. You've been playing guitar for fourteen years cause you wanted some hot blonde number to remember your name. Not to degrade what you've devoted your life to, but really, think of why you started...now think of why you really started. Tell me I'm wrong.

I'm talented. I know this. But I'm not an expert at anything, at least not to anything useful in public. I cut out the messenger, the middleman. I saw the two motivating factors of life and I just chose to put everything I have into one of them. Sex. Not sex in general, just my sex. Finding my sexual identity is my priority. I want to be able to lay in bed with a boy I haven't ever kissed in my life and immediately be able to pick up on if he's going to be good for me. And my vagina.

I want to be a god damn fuck psychic superhero.

How does one go about gaining slutty extrasensory perception? Just know your body. What you like. How this feels.

Boys have it easy. You have your body to encourage you with physical evidence during puberty. Waking up in wet shorts says "Hey, pay attention to me". Getting random erections in the most inappropriate of times "Kid, come on. I'm not going away. Get to know me, Take care of me."

Girls aren't so lucky. We are shown little if any evidence of our bodies trying to get acquainted with us while we're changing. We have to dig for it. At 12 I lacked the attention of boys. So I spent a lot of time digging.

"I don't masturbate." She says. If she's being honest, I feel so sorry for her. I imagine if God gave us built in Jet Packs she's the type who'd refuse to use the thing. Once I knew how to operate my own Jet Pack, I was able to become familiar with the workings of other Jet Packs. You can sense it on a person, when they understand the gears and switches of their own bodies. We tend to trust those people with ours. I'm trusted. Usually immediately.

My talents lack audience. Individuals privileged enough to be witness of my craft should consider themselves lucky. Yes, I'm greedy. But I'm picky. What I devote passion, time, energy, and love into isn't open to the public. My performances are secrets. I am the most intimate of girls.

They say, she must hate herself. She must be traumatized. She must be in order to be so obsessed with something to shameful. To degrade herself to a boy she doesn't know--they couldn't be more wrong.

Lay with me. I'll know you well enough. The trick:

I know myself. I'm generous with myself. I love myself.

And that is why, on your bed, in your clean text book bedroom, with a smoke-filled head, when you lean in to kiss me, reach up my skirt, and slide curious fingers up under my Jet Pack, I am the least bit surprised.

Being Dangerous

Stoned.

Went to wash off my make up
looked in the mirror.
Felt insanely pretty.
Grabbed my camera and just kept taking pictures.
My vanity is the best anti-depressant.

The Ambush

Met her at a birthday party

Neither of us knew whose.

“I just walked in from the street. Heard music, saw a black light”

She said.

I’m a friend of a friend of a friend.

Just another body, filling up the room.

Outside it was raining

Leaving every sole wet.

And she’s standing in the kitchen

Being offered shot after shot

And I’m just watching her

Knock shot after shot back

She grabbed me by the hand and says

“Up into the attic, I can hear the music”

The stairs are steep

Up at the top she stumbled into a bean bag and wrapped herself into a blanket.

On the bag we’re facing each other

Under the blanket we’re not touching.

She’s breathing heavy

Asks me if I want to play a game.

She explains

This game, by tucking her hands under the blanket

Tucking her hands in between her thighs

Tucking her hands into her panties.

And I watch her eyes

Begin to roll.

Play with me she says.

Speechless.

I can’t move.

Just another body filling up the room.

She says my name, drawing out each vowel.

Her knees touch mine

I say “Shhh don’t be so loud”

Truth is, she’s not making a sound.

But if any other body in the room were to look over at us…

She sings

“It starts at the bottom of my feet

And travels up like a toxin

Turning off certain nerves

And switching other’s on.”

Please don’t stop talking.

Her eyelids fall and then open wide.

Her lips slightly part and then her teeth begin to bite

This girl, this stranger

I met on this rainy night

Is making love right in front of me.

“It’s the best kept secret

The kind they all want to know about

It’s like being kissed by God

The finale.

And baby I’m getting close.”

I can see her shoulder peeking in and out of the blanket

I can see her

Seeing me

In shock, awe, and curiosity.

It’s the hysteria that gets her off

It’s the ambush

The trauma.

And then

“Oh god”

Just like that

All nerves on, then all nerves off.

The machine begins to recuperate.

She rolls onto her back

Breathing to the beat of the music.

“You’re the kind of boy who leaves my soul wet.”

She left in search of more black lights.