I've been thinking about this girl I know a lot recently. And I've thought of a good way to tell her, at least I think it's kind of cool. Me and her have actually been good buddies (and I use that term with slang intentions) for awhile. But I've been thinking about getting serious =)
Now what I want to do is take a bunch of songs that remind me of her and put them on a mix disc. Thing is, I won't tell leave any way for her to tell what the songs are. What I want to do is make a poem out of the songs titles and reference each song in chronological order on the disc. I'll underline the references to the song titles and that'll be the clue she gets as to what the song is =)
Now I just need to list the songs I want to use then make a sincere poem out of them
Don't Cry-Guns N' Roses
Everything-Buckcherry
A Decade Under The Influence-Taking Back Sunday
...Slowdance on the inside-Taking Back Sunday
Discipline-Nine Inch Nails
Patience-Guns N' Roses
The Middle-Jimmy Eat World
She's My Ride Home-Blue October
Fer Sure-Medic Droid
Nothing Else Matters-Metallica
Corduroy-Pearl Jam
Betterman-Pearl Jam
Tarantula-Smashing Pumpkins All Apologies-Nirvana Dumb-Nirvana Pop Rocks & Coke-Green Day
There will be more, but I'm out of time for tonight
-Walk me through this burning city
A city of life and desire
Hold my hand and hold me dearly
As I watch them burn in the fire
Keep my head to your chest
And we'll watch as the fingers start to blame
No, not themselves, they blame everyone else
It's always the same game
-Not everyone knows that heaven and hell
Aren't really the end of the game
So put the gun to your head or you'll live with the sin of
Tomorrow, yesterday, and today
-This isn't me, I know it's not
This can't be what I think it is
This can't be the end nor can I pretend
That it's not
Make a deal with me to see the light
And we'll all pay the price in vein
Yet, then again, we've always had
Someone else to shine the way
All that aside, it doesn't make sense anymore. I've wandered in and out of conscience for so long that all these fragments of ideas are just scattered everywhere, floating around me like pixels of knowledge, wanting to assemble, but to much is missing to complete any sort of answer. So the page is left blank in front of me. Blank, unhindered, waiting...waiting for me. It still waits.
'I'll get all my work and I'll chain myself to the chair with that old bike lock, and I'll throw the key out of reach, I'll have no choice but to finish the work until Lush comes over and unties me' I mouth to myself. I know that my stiff lips aren't readable, not that anyone looks at me anyway. Ah Lush, she's like heroin to me, she really is. The first time with her, I felt sick, my body shook, and I lied helpless on my back, waiting for something to come along, just like the simile I've dubbed her with. Heroin. Coquet is another story, she's a sickly alchohol who consumes the liver of my mind. Waging all out wars with my lips on her shoulder and her foot on my neck. She's a pair of handcuffs I don't need. On some days she even tasted of Jack Daniels, oh the irony.
"You okay?" a voice breaks my inner monologue and I look up. It's the good teacher. I nod my head and open my mouth "Yeah" I say weakly, my voice hoarse from being quiet for so long. Without another word from me, the class continued on without me until that buzzard of a bell rang. This is when I was free to do what I wanted, but still chained to the other school building. I took my music classes at the regular high school, but I went to a smaller alternative school just about a mile up the road. I walked every day between classes, luckily my music class was the only one I had at the highschool.
The trek back didn't plague me at all, except the worms...worms half dried up on the sidewalk from the rain the previous day. Mental monologues were often started by these poetic images, yet I never gave charity to move the worms to the grass. They earned their place, and that was in my ramblings.
I pass by the bus stops, and the pizza place, and the many banks that lurk like a tumor to our small town community. A neon white community that seems to have lost their roots and their diversity. Republicans. The bus stop is intriguing though, there are worn souls there. Ethnically different people then the majority, though physically fine, their faces are distorted by their experiences and pains. They're stranded here as outcasts for the most part. And as they board the collective pool of the bus, they join the unseen masses of the suffering. I just love this town.
Silent obscenities escape my mouth when the doors to the school building open by my own hand. The halls are barren of life, both literally and from an artist point of view. Dark colors are highlighted by a lack of light, while even darker colors loom in the corners. It's noir-tastic. So I go into the kitchen, the only bright and lively room in the building. It's only about twenty feet by twenty feet, perhaps if you were to put several queen size beds together then you'd get the dimensions better. A black board with chalk sits on a wall, two walls are occupied by cabinets, stoves, fridges, and countertops.
The scouts are there, all three of them, the Red, the Pink, and the Black, plotting their various little schemes to help keep them occupied through the week. I often joke about each of them being only one third of a person, and they all create a collective whole, but it's only in good fun. Good clean fun. Call it what you want, people like them keep me sane.
Black smiles at me and waves, like always. I guess gestures like these really are what keep me going. I look at the black board, some trivial question is written on there, I probably won't even give it a second glance. My preperations seem almost second nature now. Take out mac&cheese, add water, and set microwave with Mac&Cheese in it. Then wait. Silence has been waiting for me, and now takes me into its grasp, and I lie calm on its chest, breathing in its scent and silently swearing at it.
And off we go into never land once again...
I reach into my pocket, in it is my cell phone. It's an older model, with an almost demonic looking dark blue and black butterfly on it. A copyrighted angel of death that looms over my marvel of modern age technology...bullcrap...it doesn't deserve that kind of artistic soliloquy, the reason I bring it out does though. I flip it open, and to no surprise, there aren't any messages or missed calls. Yet, the dim hope that she would waywardly call in the middle of the day vexes me, leading me to believe I'm becoming even more obsessed with Lush. I go to the call history and look through the lists. Her number is still there, I look at the info.
Lush Tue Apr 22, 10:02pm 1hr 26m 05s.
Is all it says, and through all those minutes, we whimpered sweet obscenities to each other, just trying to build each other up for something we couldn't have. It was torture, but sincere torture at that. That, I could deal with. It was not hearing from her since then that I couldn't, for today was the 24th, and I would see her again either way.
Beep. Beep. Beep. My meal was ready, and I found it hard to believe that that inner soliloquy only took 3 minutes. Ah, the suffering of being a three minute man.
For some reason, microwavable Mac&Cheese makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Perhaps because my grandmother used to make real Mac&Cheese for me when I was young, but youth like that has long since come and gone, and all that's sacred comes in youth. I'm about as sacred as 'Car Care for Dummies'. Lessons learned, crap delt with, didn't matter much anyway anymore. Grandma...take me home.
I stand, blank faced, stirring the ingredients of my meal together. Indecent thoughts swirling in my head about Lush and Coquet. I wonder, I really do, about when I'll stop being myself, and just become a posession, a toy, a plaything for either Lush or Coquet...no, I'm wondering when I'll lower myself to that level, perhaps when she draws her boys more like me again, maybe that'll be the day.
It's been a year Lush, can you believe it? In this past year we've lost more then we can get back, yet still, that remains nothing negative. I've seen you go through guys and be ripped to shreds and still you remain resilient. I've seen you taste love and lose youth in the process, I know we both feel as if we're 18, but we aren't. You've witnessed my tests come back negative and other things coming out positive with me. You've whispered sweet obscenities into my ears and followed through with tasteful lies and teasings. Yet through it all, it still feels as pure as the day I met you. I'm still jeleous of the lucky sons of a bitches that you bring home every now and then, and I wish I could be them all the time, but I know it doesn't work that way. We've washed our hands clean more times then I can remember, still, a bright genial smile would always bless our faces as we did so. I've spent more then a good share of my time thinking about you. Love is broken, twisted into something like you.
Lush talked to me again last night. I didn't listen, but it's good to know she cares about me. Coquet still has me tight on her leash, beaten, defenceless, and dependant. Right where she wants me. I'm starting to ask myself where I want to be, but every time that synapse in my brain fires, Coquet always seems to find a way to extinguish the thought and wrap me back up into her, crawling back to her and kissing the dust that she kicks in my face.
Lush knows what's best for me, she really does, and with the good intentions she has, I hope she goes to heaven. All good children should go to heaven. But in the eyes of Eddie, we're both sinners who deserve hell, even if we repent. I may call her an Angel at times, but she has her own problems, and shouldn't be weighed down by me all the time. Though I can't have her weighed down by my death either, rendering suicide an inconcievable option.
The test will come back in 2 weeks, I sure hope that they're positive that I'm negative for whatever cautious optimism I may still have. I may not love me, but Lush loves me, and Coquet at least loves my body or her ability to dominate me and reduce me to something lower then a dog.
I wish I could put Lush in Coquets place, but that would be unfair to my fair Lush. She shouldn't be reduced to my next snort of physical cocaine just so I can feel a little bit better about my addictions and burdens. She's done to much for me, I couldn't use her like that. It's not that I wouldn't take that apple under the right circumstances, I would love to just take her and claim her, leave a flower on her window sill the next morning, and giggle with her in the classroom the following day, but never if it meant her getting hurt or getting her involved in this mess I've woven for myself.
Coquet has her foot on my neck anyway. I'll go crawling back to her tomorrow, and I'll give her what she wants, and she'll make me feel good for a little while. Maybe it'll rain, and maybe some warm rain can finally wash her smell off of me, I'd feel a little better then.
Authors notes: Seems as though I've been on a roll lately, but really I guess I've had it coming. These past weeks have been some of the longest, filled with temptation, sexual frustration, inner faith issues, relationship issues, and a variety of other things. I've been feeling so weighed down by sin for awhile now, I guess this is like a confessional. I'm a theif, I'm a liar, I'm a sinner, and I'm a human.
On to other matters...
"That's my boy" she whispers softly into my ear as we embrace. Her words, though winded and shallow, strike me like a bullwhip and make me want her just that much more. This...being...that lies underneathe me has consumed my life for the past couple of months. This being is a girl, just a normal girl, nothing special to anyone else. Yet her voice tames me, her eyes burn me, and her body traps me like no other girl could do. I can feel her arms wrap a little tighter around my neck, clinging to me as if she was drowning, but still gently, softly, intentionally. I bring my weight off of her so we can both breathe, I can feel our presperations mixing, creating a humidity between us that reminds me of how together we were and still are. I take my dripping wet bangs out of my eyes and stare into her green ones, her eyes are gentle and hazy, as if to say 'You have me right where you want me'.
I lean down and kiss her softly, she kisses me back as if she's a kitten, lapping at its milk. Her gentle ministration makes me smile involuntarily against her lips, it reminds me of the days we snuck over to each others house while our parents were still at work, how I'd rig up the home phone to connect to my cell phone so I wouldn't get caught, it was all very silly at the time, I would never get caught, the thought never crossed my mind.
She reaches down and pulls me back down on top of her, putting her head behind mine and brings me to her chest. Her skin is hot, sensually hot, relaxingly hot, calming. I rub my nose against her and she giggles, which makes me chuckle, which makes her giggle some more until she's blushing.
It's at that moment that I hear a buzzing, my cell phone buzzes across the dresser and falls down onto the floor. I sigh and roll over off of the bed, severing the physical bond we share, and pick it up. It's the mother, wondering if I got home okay, wondering what homework I have, wondering what I'm doing. Bless her heart, she does all she can, but everything I say to her is a lie, I hang up before she even has the chance to finish saying that she loves me. I drop the phone on the floor and look back at the girl...my girl. She lays on her bed, her arms are crossed above her head as if she was tied to the headboard, she gives me a pouty/hurt look and I smile at her. Her body still glistens from what we've done, her hair still has rough patches from when I tugged just a little harder, the sheets are still half on the floor from when I kicked them down to give us more space. Everything feels right...except for one thing. ... ... ... None of this means a damn thing, and we both know it.
Slowly, she started drawing pictures that looked less and less like me. The boys she drew slowly turned from jet black to blonde, and their long curly hair began to become shorter and straighter. The once chocolate brown eyes that were submerged in a night atmosphere were now light blue and surrounded by light. She kept drawing pictures until it seemed to me that I was out of the picture completely.
When she drew herself in with these other boys, I became jaded, angry, and jeleous of the boys she drew. Being an artist myself, I know ones tastes do not simply change like that, there was a boy behind these blue eyed handsome figures she drew, and I hated this boy with an unrelenting passion, despite not even knowing if he even truly existed.
To me, this girl was mine, and only mine. I brought her from the brink of suicide myself, I kept her safe under my wings, I fed her ego and self esteem until it beemed brightly like I knew it once did, I slept with her when she felt alone, and knew when to back off when she needed her space. She knew how I felt about her, and also understood that I would never get in the way of her friends or other interests, despite me wanting to.
She loved me, and I loved her, but we couldn't be 'in love', it was simple as that. We couldn't make it work, she was much to coquettish, and I knew she slept with other guys, though we've learned enough about each other to never speak of these other guys. Admittidly, she said she'd cheat on me if we were together, and she and I both knew that I would become a control freak and we'd both be more or less miserable, these were not speculations, these were the unforgiving facts.
And so we stayed in this state of emotional limbo until two days ago. This is when she told me that she'd be spending that night with a boyfriend of hers, openly admitting to me, breaking our little treaty, and she'd show him the best night of his life. For those next two days I did not hear from her at all. So I stewed alone with my thoughts, the overwhelming sense of jeleousy and anger just brewing, wanting to explode. I swore to myself that the next night we'd spend together would be the most satisfying night of her life, that she'd never want anyone but me after that. It was perfect, and I waited, blind fury building up inside.
It's over, I did what I said I'd do. I roll over next to her and try to catch my breath, despite it being winter, the air feels hot and humid. I lay on my stomach, eyes closed, smiling to myself. All the tension feels lifted. "That was amazing" her voice chimes, it's music to my ears. I open my eyes and look down to the floor. I see a small piece of paper sticking out from under her bed, curiousity gets the best of me and I reach down and pull it out. It's a printed picture of a boy, a familair boy. Under that one is another sheet of another boy that looks strangely framilair. Then it hits me, they're the same boys from what I thought were her drawings, I shift through the papers to find ones that I've seen before, in some, she's drawn herself on the printing. I look back at her and I'm reduced to a plaything as she parts her lips "You know, I didn't do anything two nights ago"
It fills my hand, this apple I have. Nice and big, without any bruising, perfect. Just from looking at it I can tell it will be juicy and satisfying. I take it and rinse it under the sink, making sure to cleanse it, making sure it's ready to be consumed. I smile to myself as I see my faint reflection in it's beautiful redness, my image distorted and faded, but there none the less. The paper towel rack spins wildly as I yank a single sheet from it and wipe the apple off, then discard the paper towel, and a long with it, the excess fluid that was on my beautiful apple.
I casually walk into my den, the largest room in the house, a large TV sits upon its crucifix and a coffee table adorns the large white couch, and the large white couch adorns a girl who lays upon it. Although she's older then me, she's a pretty young thing, wearing nothing but a tank top and worn up jeans. Her luscious red hair flows down past her shoulders and her warm doe brown eyes look at me and try to burn through my chocolate ones. She breaks her eye contact and looks back through the sliding glass door that leads to the porch, her warm breathe fogs the glass and she kisses the window before the fog can clear, leaving perfect imprints of her lovely lips, portraying every fine detail of them except for their ruby redness.
I open my mouth to speak "Think about it, the apple is one of the more devine fruits...isn't it?" she raises her brow and looks at me "Something so heavenly that it would be the forbidden fruit, the fruit of wisdom and knowledge. Wisdom exchanged and experience can be summed up in this fruit, and with it, the burdens of this knowledge. A symbol of temptation if you will" I should know better then to waste these philosophies on her, she doesn't know of Adam and Eve, or Eden. All that she could hope to compare this to is Snow White and the poison apple, it saddens me at first, but in all truth, I realize that it's the exact same concept. Can mankind really resist the apple? Can mankind really resist temptation? If you could know something you're not supposed to, it's only human nature to try and find out anyway. I set the apple down on the coffee table and look out the window with her.
Without averting her stare she parts her lips "Jacob" she starts, I look over to her, my ears drawn to what she has to say "I know I've asked you this before, but if things were different, do you think we could be together?" she asks. She's asked this before, but this time, a certain quality in her voice tells me that she's asking for more then just the answer I give her, there's a hunger in her voice. "No" I sigh and try not to smile. "What do you mean no?" she says and stares at me, surprised that I didn't say 'yes' like I usually do. "I mean, right now I'm trying to clear myself of temptation, and I'm afraid that having you would only allow me to corrupt you" I say, I hope I'm not to obviously trying to lead to other things. "I'm already corrupt" her voice goes soft and gentle, yet with a hint of sensuality. "I guess what I'm really asking is, I want to know what it would be like to be with you, I really want to know"
I look at her with wanting eyes and kneel down beside the couch, not before getting the apple off of the table. I stare at the apple. My right hand goes to her stomach and I slide my fingers slowly up so they go just underneathe the fabric of her tank top. I can feel her heart racing and her breathe getting heavier, but her expression remains the same, one full of curiousity and hunger. I bring my other hand up, the apple in it. My eyes slowly go to hers, this time, mine burning into hers. My lips slowly part as I bring the apple into her sight and I ask, "Apple?..."
Spay's blogs, last updated : July 23, 2008
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