Literature For Hungry Eyes

Finger Fucking and fucking fingers. THis isn't touching herself anymore.

this is brutal. hateful.

cum the tears away. Depression for orgasm. That's ok.

Suicide girls. naked pictures, warm nipples on rough shirts and wet hair, wet legs.

Tounge furious and hard, demanding. feeling. fucking.

She doesn't want to talk about softness anymore. or colors. Just fantasies.

Desks and ripped buttons. Jungles and hidden viewers. Body positions and bed partners unknown. Erotica hidden in pillows. Screams for moans.

She's angry now. Wants you even more now. Badly aimed cameras and dark lace along her ass. Round and firm, those are porn words.

Will you slip your hands around her legs? to the front perhaps. Just behind perhaps. Just biting, perhaps. maybe you'll pull her against you. from behind. So she can feel you against her. Hard. THrobbing. More porn Words.

She's aching now. She's aching now. Her head is turned and with memories of you pushing into her, perhaps grunting. or biting your lip or looking down at her.

So Many "you's" in a simple fantasy. WHich is she angry at? which does she blame?

only herself. always herself. and that's why she does this. will always do this.

Hands cold now. bored. still angry. SHe sits up and waits a while longer.

Dry and unwelcoming. bored. still angry. She tries and tries and tries and never cums.

Sexy Pictures, half smiles, sleepy eyes. Yawning she forgets this...

Post Midnight Accidents

I should have been the hero. I should have been the mother. I should have been the caretaker, the savior.

I shouldn't have just walked away. driven away.

They were just kids. So stupid. Just kids.

What am? Just another cold soul. Just another mean spirit. Just another someone who can leave the scene of a crime. Not a crime. An accident.

Shaken up. Cold perhaps. The waiting music of an emergency call. I should have stayed. I should have stayed.

I am none of those. I am Sydney. Caring, guilty, overly passionate me. I felt naseous all night long. He says over phone lines "you did all you could." and he's sincere but it's a lie.

I could have stayed. Held his head in my arms. Pushed back his hair. Made promises to soothe. I could have quieted the whimpering. Like a baby he cried.

They were just kids. I should have been the adult. I should have been responsible. I should have listened to was trembling inside of me. What i knew i should have done. And what happened? i let myself be shooed away by a selfish little boy, scared i know. I watched the blinking lights of help approach. first one, then another and another. 4 or 5 at the scene by the time I reached home.

All i could think about was the mother. Phone by her side. THe rush. All i could think about were his legs. The whimpering. they were just kids.

Sleep doesn't come for hours and i wake up wanting sex to reaffirm my sense of life. sense of feeling.

It's almost noon and i'm still quite dead.

She had a dream of you. you and yours. The story lines are unclear.

Days before she had another. One of your skin. Your moans. Your hair. Your mouth. She came. The first time in days.

7 in the morning she stares at herself in the mirror. Touches her breasts. She thinks of you touching them. holding them. holding her.

Waits all day to see you. eager. instead you're cold.

Imaginary Arguments

This is how she'll beg:

Please don't leave me. I need you here. I needyou to breathe. I need you to feel. I need you to live. Please, please.

Without you i'll go back to cutting my arms. to sleeping too much. to sleeping too little. To not talking. To not eating. Please, don't leave me. Without you I'll go back to who i was. My teeth will show and no one will see. No one will see me again. No one will see me again.

Please, I need you to remind me i exist. To make me real because i can feel your hands upon me. remind me i can love by the feeling of your lips against me. Please. I'm begging. I'm begging. This is begging.

You're leaving me. You've chosen to leave me. As the nighttime wind knows, and only because i screamed at sobbed it to it alone, I never thought you'd go.

Without you i'll survive. Without you i'll improve. Without you i could glow and grow and become an entirely different person of my own making. Without you i'll move on.

I don't want to. I don't want better. I don't want worse. I want you. only you.

I take no solace in others. no comfort. They never knew what to do, what to say. They've only known to lay bare face their own miseries. Comfort in not being alone in this pain. It's a load of shit. They dole out their lives like candies. The bitterness stings. Memories not self. A slap to recover from because it was quicker acting than a soothing word or two.

No one's ever understood. no one's ever understood. You never did either, i won't lie.

But only you in your silence, your words, your hands, your eyes. Your everything. Only you could quiet this. quiet this. quiet this.

Please don't leave me for bluer skies and bigger things. Please don't leave me for wonderful chances and lifetime experiences. Please don't leave me. please don't leave please don't leave me.


And then she'll continue her ragged breathes. close her eyes. And not whisper a word.

Saturday Mornings and You're not There and my Voice Trembles. ANd i tell you you're a failure.

I'm so sick of waiting. waiting on you. waiting on you to see how much i'm hurting.

I'm sick of crying myself to sleep. that's so pathetic of me. I hate how petty i've become. i hate who i've become under your love.

I have loved you in any and every way i could have ever loved. I've taken care of you like a mother would. I've comforted you like a sister only could. I've laughed like your best friend. I've touched you like a lover.

I've loved you. loved you so much. even when i've hated you i've only ever loved you.

I'm sick of the same words playing in my head and not allowing myself to say them. "leaving me is the biggest mistake you'll ever make."

Because i've loved you deeper and more passionately than anyone will ever love you. And i know you've loved me back. Just as much.

After this you're not going to get me back. You're not going to get those same peices of yourself back.

Don't think that breaking my heart will spare yours. it won't. it isn't, is it?

I could list a million memories and moments we've made together. that would make us both cry. I'll stop. only for a moment.

You're going to see a million things in life now. Things i'll never get to show you, teach you. share with you. You're going to grow up without me. And that's the part that hurts the most.

The dreams we made together. we DREAMED together. alone.

We were going to go to paris together. we promised. We said we'd go the world together. And then we could come back home, call it our home. Move out together, carve out lives together. I couldn't live in seattle because i remember how we made plans to go.

We looked at art schools for you.

But that's ok now. that's ok.

there's a thousand more things i could say. a million contradictory feelings.

But i'll be silent for now. only a moment. silent for now.

(is it pathetic that i look to an online journal for solace? it is. it is.)

Sexual Healing

First of all i'll say: "what in yourself made you think you could be my salvation?" and then i'll Think "what in me made me think i could be saved?"

and with a flip of my long black hair, hair you once called sexy i'll climb atop you.

Maybe misery is feeding this sexual insatiability.

The other day while driving, the sun in my eyes and a self help CD playing too loudly i slipped my hand in my pants. this isn't fiction. this is truly how pathetic my life has become.

All day long i read and write sexual scenes. And then i go through completely on edge. waiting for someone to notice, to take advantage.

I feel like i'm begging you, now. "please, take off your pants off. have me" is what my hands say as they undo your belt. Pull down the zipper.

Passive depressive. That's what this is.

I want to be mean and cruel to you. Mean and cruel to you. But i can't. I want to shut you out. I can't. I want to stop wanting you, stop this last communion of our love. But i can't.

Instead of crying and begging for you to stay. This is what i'll say:






And then i'll slip my pants off, making sure to wiggle my hips. I'll spread my legs. And we'll both know i'm ready. wet. waiting. i always am. I'll lick my lips, keep my mouth part open. I'll push my shoulders back, breath a little deeper.

And really, i'll think to myself "god, i love you. I love you. I love you." and want to weep all the while.

She'll Think and Type and Plan. But Never Talk. Never Stand. Weak.

She arranges her life in alphabetical order. Like a child. Like a girl whose hated her job too long. There's silence and typing and her head is pounding. She wants to fall asleep. She wants to scream.

A is for aftermath. That is what this is. The silence due to anger. The atrophy of love.

B, such as bile. Rather than scream or cry or be as awful as she knows she can be she looks away. It builds up. In the back of her throat. waiting. Gagging. Waiting.

C for the obvious crime. But who committed it is the real issue now.

If she could say anything. If she knew the other would listen this is what she'd say:

"Because you look out for my best interests doesn't mean you respect me. You do anything but. If there has ever been anyone I’ve hid myself from it's been you."

And if the other were still silent and both their eyes were still only angry she would continue:

"You've always been the first to tell me that I am wrong. That I need to change. You have been the first to tell me I’m worthless. You don't want anyone to walk on me, to use me, but what have you done? You were always the first. Always the first"

And when the other doesn't answer the question, because it wasn't supposed to be answered, she won't stop:

"You think I am weak. You want me aggressive. But I want you to know that sometimes not saying things, not yelling or screaming, sometimes trying to be the bigger person and just let it slip on past takes just as much strength. Sometimes more. I am not weak. Even though you've been the only one to accuse me of it."

By now she'll be crying. Because anger is unmanageable and it always turns to grief. And such childish sobs will be contradictory to what she says:

"I am not weak. You cannot change me. I love you and I know you Love me but you don't know me anymore. You never have. You never have. You don't understand my fight. How I realize, comprehend and take the blame for every one of my faults. You don't see how good I’ve been at remaining a good person, good heart. You've never heard my morning thoughts. How I’ve never given up. I've never given in. I am here. And everything you've ever felt, I’ve felt ten fold. And blamed only on myself. Because that's what you taught me. That's who you taught me to be. Where you have been numb, I was sensitive. For everything you shut out I took in. If only because you wouldn't have it. Every time I tried to be angry. At you. At anyone. At the world. It could only turn inward. Why? Because I’ve been good enough. Adult enough. Strong enough. Wrong enough to be accountable for my actions. "

By now she'll be choking. Perhaps even screaming. She doesn't know what else to say. For the other has degraded even her happy memories. And only in this silence will the guilt settle in. On both parties. And hopefully it'll be night. They might be driving. So neither will see the others tears. So neither will have to breathe any longer, to touch.

And perhaps the next day She, the one who was wrong (because she is always wrong and that's what she has accepted) will be silent all day. Only venturing a whisper when forced. She'll refuse all food. Make excuses. She'll sip her own blood.

And from that moment on their relationship will be changed. Over in many ways.

Music whispered through speakers, undressing, inspecting. My body in the mirror. Full in places it shouldn't be. Dark in places i've never wanted it to be.

I'll no longer lie to myself. My entire life i've known i couldn't hold the same kind of love as golden skin. ivory. I could never envelop such pretty words, such pretty thoughts. I've always known my hair was black, wild. My eyes dark and unexpressive. never shining. I could never be fair, which at one time could have meant beautiful. I've hated who i am. And perhaps i could say by fault the of the world that's always surrounded me. The fault of everyone but me.

But this hatred is only and truly mine. And i am ashamed. More hateful of the fact that i hate myself than the actual hate.

I could never be equated with honey or shine or anything that one was supposed to be. I could never be easy to love. never be clean. unperverted. I have always been and will always be only myself.

In every one of my beauties i see fault. I feel fault. wishing and hoping in the most secret and shameful of ways that maybe i could change. maybe i could change.

It seems so complicated.

Seperate and never the same. That's how i've always felt. Always felt.

And this is no pity post. do not think of me different.

Just thinking. always thinking. that maybe i've always bene in love with all the wrong words. words i could never be. words that none will ever love me for.

Because i am only darkness. I am only this.

Not ever exotic. enchanting. intoxicating.

Only this. dowdy. ugly. undefined. dark.

Isn't it sunday? hasn't the day been whiled away in bed? Haven't you kept your eyes dry and what's inbetween your legs moist?

Do you find that vulgar? perhaps obscene?

as the heater cools only do shivers of heat reach me. straight to my head. feeling faint. This part is literal, no longer sexual. I feel feverish. I have cramps at a time i shouldn't. My arms have goosebumps.

It's this sort of melting and aching i now associate with love.

Like a Shattered glass, a million reflections of the most beautiful things.

Your head rests on my legs. warm and slow. you lap me up as i melt. i sigh and sigh and your eyes closes, tounge extended.

I'm tired now. I'm always tired, have you noticed? i hold your hands, stroke your fingers, your body is smooth against mine. thin and giving, you're always so giving.

I think of tears. smooth and cold, blue perhaps. instead i pull you up to meet my face. and our bodies meet again and again. rocking and shaking and you know my rhythm by now. my heart aches and my hands pull you closer. closer. i'm kissing your neck and i almost want to fall asleep.

You're golden in the light.

You kiss me. kiss me. Soft and moist. long, deep. just like i wanted. you're going slow now. just like i wanted.

you're moaning like whispers. i breathe them in. swallow them down. I love this most. the way your heart beats against my bare chest.

My legs wrap around you tighter, pushing more. as i come. and to sound cliche, in waves. it starts out as something small. startling, surprising. shooting through my entire body, pulling down my eyelids, closing my hands, arching my back. everything pulls in. I pull in. in. in. in. like screams i keep secret. And then, another cliche, it explodes. I think of colors. rainbows, fireworks. LIke a secret i've always kept. I'm released. My fingers loosen, toes uncurl, eye roll upwards. collapse. every muscle relaxes and the pleasure, like a liquid drug. Thick and heavy. coursing through my veins. like maple syrup dripping onto expectant tounges.

THe moans are deeper now. you're deeper now. and when you raise my hips to meet yours there is no resistance. I writhe in your grip. and then you come too. beautiful. even when fully lit. all flaws only magnify.

Here you are, my love, wrapped in my arms, legs, body. My face in the nook of your neck where i fit perfectly, oh, just perfectly. I'm breathing you in. in. in.

Come Closer. Come Closer.

Watched a movie. It was set in paris. They were in love. they talked and talked and talked the way we never have. About things we always think about.

Shivered there as they kissed on screen and found myself to be tearing.

Who knew impending goodbye could be so unforgiving? so awful...

I don't want to tell anyone because i feel so weak and silly. But it feels like a secret i shouldn't keep. I'll whisper it here, to you now, not to be judged. not to be laughed at. but to be heard. I can't be alone anymore. I can't tell the one who needs to hear, won't ever tell him. A secret? I cry every day now. whole tears and whole sobs. I scream all the while. sometimes twice a day.

and there's only one reason. one cause. one thought that brings this. each and every time. even in the the public dark.

You're leaving me. I'm leaving you.

And i'm not sure how to be alone again. how to not love again. how to go through life with everything so meaningless.

Throughout the breakup that's what i realized. that's what i saw for the first time.... Every thing i did, everything i saw, was completely meaningless without you to share it with.

I think of the things i'll wear and the place i'll stay and get to call my own. I think of how i'll decorate or dance or read or sleep. And it's nothing without you. I'm nothing without you.

To Live

There's a book so beautiful it makes me want to weep. it makes my heart ache. That's how wonderful. The words, the letters, the syllables. erotic beyond comprehension.

It makes me want to kiss someone. To have my lips -- no -- my soul touch another's. I want to feel a body against mine. To hold them to me. closer. closer. I want to keep my eyes closed all the while. But watch all the while. I want to make love again.

This story inspires me. Makes me want to whisper. To feel the tears roll down my face. As the words wind and weave i'm forced to feel so much more than life has allowed me to feel.

I want to touch something golden. or warm. or fluid. or deep. something wonderful. I want to come face to face with this feeling within in.

I feel as if the right hands could pick me up in such a way that it could pour out of me. pour. pour. pour. A beautiful ceramic vase. delicate and thin. in sunlight. with intricate patters etched into it's side. Cream colored and blinking. inviting. feeling more real than anything solid. pour. pour. pour. Water into water, soft and flowing. Blue and white and pink and purple. every color to catch the eye. Magical. singing a soothing rhythm. pour. pour. pour.

I feel so empty and full. Like i'm forgetting and remembering. needing and taking. caressing. sensual. happy and sad. proud and ashamed. a million contradictory emotions filling me. leaving me.

I'm breathless. I'm crying. I'm sobbing. and in this pain is life. it is pulsation. throbbing. trembling with life. pour. pour. pour.

Like running after sunset skies. This feeling of free falling. of air rushing past. of eyes closed. like losing myself to find me. like the ground rushing past and heart rushing past. and it's like moaning. that pleasurable. moaning. high and low. high and low. lose to find. sunset pink. like the world at my fingertips. brushing each crevice. each mountainous bump. gliding through each ocean and lake. feeling. feeling. every sense alive. alive. Awakened. Berathing. The whole world coming in and feeling it. Feeling every bit of it.

eyes closed. eyes closed.
pouring. pouring. pouring.
Breathing. feeling. moaning.
Living. oh god, living.
Eyes closed. Eyes Closed.

It's all coming in now. all coming in now.

Selective Theorizing

Sometimes i watch these tv shows. and there's this filter on my brain. I can only see, only pick up the parts that i want to see.

love. marriage. heartbreak.

I feel like... A person grows up and realizes they want something in their life... be it children or a wife or whatever. They realize they want it, that they have room in their hearts for that one specific thing. And at first i tcould be a distant fantasy of "someday" and that's acceptable.

But then too quickly that space realized becomes a hole. A hole in one's life. in their heart. And so with their entire being they're able to want and ache and hurt over something they've never truly had.

Sure, it's coming too fast, at the wrong times in life. A thousand other reasons that all point to no.

But there's still that emptiness. Still that achey pain

Another Complaint

I'm so sick of this.

so so sick of this.

sick of being angry and bitter and sad. of being hopeless and mean and moody.

i'm so sick of being what i am. I'm so sick of all my insides. my comfort levels. the life i've built around me.

I'm just so sick. so sick. so sick.

3 months. 3 months. 3 months.


like a torture plaing in my mind over and over again. 3 months. 2 and a half hours a day. 5 on weekends.

for 3 more months.

and all of a sudden i was choking on tears in darkness on phone lines again. again again.


3 months.

i'm so sorry i can't be happy. so sorry.