GASH OF THE WRISTS

Blood ran from her wrists as though she had three hearts pumping in her chest. Amazing she didn't die from the impact or the initial loss of blood cells and platelets. It happened so many times before she couldn't even count how many had made some scar on her being. Happens every fucking time. The blood pooled around her left foot and she started to make circles with the liquid until organically it turned into figure 8s and that got her thinking of the future. Though her wrists bled so hard her veins were twitching, she was able to pick herself up and get to the phone to call all of the trespassers. The trespassers and violators. Her hearts hurt as each number was pushed on the telephone. Whose phone you ask? Who knows and she did not care after the evening she had and the night had only just begun. The location of where she had been left was unknown and last on her mind as she kept dialing those numbers of the ones who hurt, abused, and took advantage of her so many times before this night of everlasting destruction. Blood spewed from her veins as she squealed and hissed into the phones of those that knew the guilt of the jobs they did on her and her body. The liquids. the liquids

Of course some numbers had changed and she continued to yell at the sorry unknowing soul on the other end. Most of those listened because she was crazed and articulate. Blood began to spew from her mouth as she neared the end of her list and the figure 8s turned into streaks of strength removing itself from her legs and torso. Her head was heavy enough to clamp the receiver with her shoulder. Her right hand never left the keypad, she duct taped it to the base so the slippery blood would not keep her from dialing. This was the time for all to be said and done. Her hearts were broken. She had no more to give except a instruction on life, participation, and humanity. She regrets not being a lesbian since those men never respected her like any of her female friends, straight or gay, but then again, she gave up the women that stole men from her and she picked up woman who value friendship and love. She misses them already, but not for long as the pigment moves from her face and the receiver drops from her shoulder to the floor with an incredible display of destruction. She forgets what her last thought was and passes out only to come crashing to the floor stabbing her eye with a sharp edge of the broken receiver. Her head throbbed for a few seconds until she realized it was time to let go. It was time to just let go. Gotta go. So let go.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!

Hope

Love is a many splendored gay thing. I love "LOVE", but have had little to no "butterflies" or "sweeping off my feet" until more recently. Girlfriend, here is not one for commitment with almost anything in a good while, but something good is a foot and here's hoping it will be positve, delightful, and delovely. Thanks for listening.

The Choice of My Heart

Why oh, fucking why do men rule my heart and waste my brain? They make me dizzy and the spinning is making me cry. (The man mentioned in the last post is the same as the one mentioned here. ) A phone call tonight from my long distance boyfriend (I wish) of 6, almost 7 years. He lives in DC and has only visited once (2006) and was violently allergic to my cat making the visit a wee bit uncomfortable. We met while I was stage managing a show in Richmond, Va and I cried very hard uncontrollably in front of him during our last encounter before moving to Chicago. I had apparently fallen in love with him. Drama was one thing I did not intend to bring to our table. He wanted me to be friends with benefits and that was cool, but it wasn't just a one night stand and it wasn't like I would go over to his place and leave when he was done with me (although my insecurity would lead me to believe just that). He cooked dinner and we watched some Seinfeld or Jeopardy and then do it. Or I would drive him to the train and we would hit it in the AMTRAK parking lot at 3am on a random Tues. In the dressing room (scandalous!) and on the way to a cast party (shocking). Graphically enough, the only man to ever work hard enough to make me cum without my help. He invoked a sexual demon that I can't quiet, but am forced to stifle to help with my self esteem. He also lit up my sweet spot for the brothers and I ain't talking about incest. I have spoken of this lad before and just two days ago, I was trying to let him go from my brain since my last trip east was once again lacking a hit of that and he was supposed to call me when he was free, but that was two weeks ago. Just as he had faded from my brain for the first time in 6 fucking years, he had to text tonight and I had to text back, and then he had to call. But for the record, we did not have phone sex and we never have. We talked about (mostly) his work and professional life in DC and the bs he has to deal with on a daily basis. In a previous post whether here or MySpace I mentioned that if he asked me to marry him I would and tonight after hearing that I am pursuing work to help the environment, he asked if I was going to marry Al Gore. He fumbled at first and all I heard was "...you...marry" I almost peed my pants. Fucker.