#3.29.19

//I need this. //A little break from being//so damned strong.//A respite.//A way to release.//

//So when you tie my//arms//to the headboard, //the lashes dusting//the tops of my cheeks are//offering//a silent thank you.//

//When you tell me//that I'm not allowed to//speak//except to respond//(or use my safe words)//I will disobey//that order//with my body.//

//When you grab my throat//I will probably cum//despite your//command//because no matter how hard you squeeze//I can//sense the restraint you maintain. //

//And I am honored//that you've paid//enough attention to know//when to withhold//and when to push me//beyond my limits. //

//With each caress, //every smack, //every orgasm--//both forbidden and fulfilled--//I feel myself losing control. //

//And these whimpers, //these screams, //these groans, //I give you//are not from displeasure//but rather chains from my soul//breaking//with every prayer you answer. //

//I don't want to be in control. // Don't need to think. //Don't care//about what has or will happen. //

//All there is//is right now. //Here//in this moment//of your design. //

//There is just this//intimacy my spirit craves//and the pleasure you and I both//demand. //

//So please, //make me forget. // Make me feel. //Wear down my willfulness and make me whole. //I am willing to accept// what you have to offer.//

//And I will offer//both mind and body//to submit to you. //

//So please, please//I beg of you...//answer one more insolent prayer. //

//Don't be afraid//to get a little//rough... //

i like when you get mad

i guess I'm pretty glad that you're alone

you said she's scared of me?

i mean, I don't see what she sees

//Names drip from your//lips//like a leaking faucet.//

//Drip, drip//another proper noun//slips past plump flesh.//

//But damn//if your wet words and my dry//attitude//simply do not mesh.//

//It's funny--//the same can't be//reciprocated.//Fucking hilarious//you think its cool//to spread lies the way you spread thighs for men and pleasure tools.//

//I don't care//about your life or who//you're with.//I'm unimpressed with what you do.//

//But I'm all in for the shits//when I'm being//told about bullshit//about me and mine--//and its apparently coming from you.//

//You real bold//with that slickness, //real dirty with how you taint//other people's perceptions of//ones you "fuck with"/and still claim to be a saint.//

//But it's cool, //I'm not mad...//I'm fucking disgusted and annoyed, //my dude.//I'm just watching this all// burn// before me, //'cause I'm too over you//to bother being rude.//

//So do you--//get your fix.//I'll support it all the way.//Matter-of-fact, //I'll even kill my ego/just so you can get a say.//

//But when you see//I don't ride with you, //please don't go asking why.//Don't bring that drama//bullshit either, //no tears-nothin'.//

//I'll know it's a lie.//

//You tried to play//with my head, //my emotions... //and my fucking friends--//but these games you like//playing with//bitches//will ALWAYS//be dead ends.//

-

more than peace and cedar elms, emboldened junebugs adrift in the breadth of grass, i love the depthless sky, clear of starlight-jetsam, in oppressive small-town silence. as i sit encapsulated in the ambient ocean of quiet, harmonizing crickets herald a shift in the universe. light-pollution is a distant memory, miles away in our modernist milieu, but the clouds reign supreme here in cold nowhere: no twenty-story buildings with late-night lights to imitate stars gone extinct, no streetlamps to press back the pressing darkness -- only me, the universe, and the junebugs. the starless sky is a murky ceiling, and it renders the cedar elms in strange new formations, many-armed monsters held at bay by the moonless dark. we are sentinels, the junebugs and i, witnesses to the destruction of the universe’s iridescent magic. beyond the boundary- line of my blanket in the grass, neighboring houses become distant planets, the street a solar system thrown out of harmony.

As soon as I knew I was leaving work early, with the weather in the mid-60s, I knew I was going to run when I got home. I was anticipating it. I can’t wait to get outside in the warm air and just push myself further than yesterday.

I stopped at Sonic, which is my usual Friday celebration stop on my way home. I get a cranberry limeade, and I chew on all the little ice chips, dentist be damned. But as I was driving home and sipping on my limeade, I felt the terrible burning sensation in my throat: heartburn. I had also eaten wings for lunch and last night’s dinner, and I had a cinnamon bun for breakfast. All things that for sure give me heartburn. I had not prepared adequately for running this evening.

When I stepped in the doorway, my husband was irritated with our dog who, with his cone of shame post-neutering, kept running into the table, the doorways, chairs, and my husband’s legs. He was short with Chip, and it immediately got underneath my skin. I quickly changed and walked right back out the door.

Once walking, I tried to relax. I noticed the thick pink buds of magnolia flowers pushing through their fuzzy outer shells, daffodils blooming or drooping like bright sunlit raindrops on the cusp of bursting, tiny purple violets sprinkled throughout yards along my street. I heard more birds singing, and saw more robins on the hunt for worms. I watched as they would hop, hop, stop, then put their heads down, listening, listening. Then, quickly, their beaks would slice quickly into the dirt and pluck out a worm. The pavement was still dark in places from an afternoon of rain, and the air hung heavy with moisture. The smell of the damp, fresh breeze was lovely.

The first minute run was good - I always love how my body feels when I first start running. It wakes up with every pound on the pavement. My joints wake up, my muscles start kicking in, even my bones seem to come more to life. The second minute was good too. I felt heavier this time around, but still okay.

It wasn’t until I got to the hill on my run that I really started to feel it. The heartburn was front and center, and I had so much phlegm. I was gasping for breath and my body felt dense and immovable. From the halfway point to the end, I felt like it was maximum effort to move my body in a jog for a lousy minute at a time. But I jogged at least for every minute run, just like last time, and I did it faster than I did before.

I arrived on my porch with still 45 seconds left in my cool down, and stretched out my calves. When I walked in the door, I walked past my dog and my husband and laid down on our bed. He came in a few minutes later, apologized, and kissed me. “I’m in a better mood.”

“You promise?”