In the middle of the night, when we get up after making love, we look at each...– Sharon Olds - True Love (via lightandplanetary)
Too much food not enough cigarettes
the morning after
the clock read 6:04 a.m, but it wasn’t, it wasn’t. she slept like a bad burden, he slept like the tasteless first kiss after a cigarette— I was craving, craving. she to my right, he to my left, I slipped a hand down down down, and teased him. he stirred, I knew that slight smirk, like the slight promise of day light at 6:04 a.m. she to my right,...
McDonalds car park
I lay in his car, cramped like a child in his mother’s arms. staring out of the window, as he played with the headlights— ‘look’, he said and the bright yellow glow drew nearer. closer to us, and our embrace. closer to us, and our 1 a.m chats. closer to us, and the many days we may or won’t have and the black followed, came closer behind...
wash away on frayed red bed sheets, wash away on his back seat, wash away on all the cigarettes, on all the booze, on all the olives a man can be. temper like a mad man, obsessed like a mad man, lost like a mad man, straight outta the big house. blue darks, grey lights, rolling on stray winds till some stray arms catch. see what he has to say, if he will say, what you ...
February the sixth.
February the sixth, I have just read a short, final piece by Bukowski. I am counting, how many times he makes sense, I am counting, how many times I can relate, and I am counting how many cigarettes I have left. it is February the sixth, and it is open season again. my dove of hearts, has flew away, a sort of farewell to Gavin, the man who I will always adore. the White,...