True Confessions
I shouldn’t have done it! Why oh why did I confess to my psychiatrist what I had done? It had been my own little secret for years but I knew I had to get it off my chest before my acidic thoughts destroyed me. What else could I do? I had tried writing it down on paper as a release and then burning my confession but it didn’t work as well as I would have liked.
I had spent almost a year getting nowhere with my doctor. He was watching me closely and saying nothing as I began my story.
“I had a boyfriend named Darren who treated me like an angel. But I made the mistake of telling him about the baby I had when I was sixteen which I had given up for adoption. Because of this choice, I was able to finish school and become a physical therapist and even my parents didn’t know. But now Darren knew and he kept harassing me to tell my parents and try to find the baby. I didn’t want to. I was happy, making good money and respected in my field. But he wouldn’t let up and I was desperate, afraid that he might tell my parents. It really was his fault because he made me feel guilty as I relived that terrible time in my life.” Tears were coursing down my cheeks as I made this confession to my doctor.
“How did you resolve it?” asked Dr. Ogden.
“Well,” I sighed, “I had no choice but to get rid of the problem. Darren and I were mountain hiking when he slipped and fell off the cliff. The rocks were loose and the authorities agreed that it was an accident. I never knew how terrible it would be to see his crushed and broken body at the bottom.”
“Was it an accident?” Dr. Ogden looked at me closely as I answered.
I knew he suspected that I had pushed Darren to his death. “I won’t admit that I had anything to do with it.” But I knew he had come to his own conclusion.
I remembered feeling a small sense of relief when I burned the paper earlier in which I wrote my confession about giving up my baby. So what could I do? He now knew about Darren. I must ‘burn the doctor’ so to speak. I took out my pistol and shot him. Dead men tell no tales.
Where It All Ends
Rapture and bliss is where it all ends
but where does it begin, luscious sin?
it starts at your toes as I draw them in
sucking, passionate lips and tongue
but it doesn’t stop there, oh my lovely
I stroke the back of your knees, if you please
Move up your thighs to where it boils hot
Stay a while as you scream for more
continue higher up center of your body
I tarry a while and pillow my head
like a baby nourished at your breast
I savor your neck like a hotbed of heat
I don’t miss a spot as I taste your warmth
I feel every space as I caress moist lips
let my tongue wander all over the place
but when I draw your silk earlobes
into my mouth, so juicy and fine
you sigh, oh my, I think I’ll die
why oh why did you take this long?
Rapture and bliss is where it all ends.
Vanilla Breast Hills
Once upon a field of snow:
White intoxication lit her face
lanterns leaving patterns
in the harboring snow
sorrowful piles of gloom
Alabaster white hands
blend in incandescent glow
as booted feet sink
into powdery quick sand
Lemon yellow winter sun
echoed on sallow skin
airborne snowflakes
of butterfly flutters
Knotted and pleated mounds
oyster gray clouds
whipped snow
in froth of dreams
Sparse windblown tree soldiers
march to refuge
snowdrifts plodding
single file down hills
Howls of sleeting whiteness
form blankets
shrouding white hot pain
veiled gauzy curtains
Fields of crystal diamonds
adorn her throat
wind breathing its last
on vanilla breast hills.
Another Day
I am hungry
like the desert is hungry for a wistful love
like the ocean is hungry for the fire in your eyes
I am hungry
like the air that surrounds you
and fills your lungs
and breathes life into you
I am hungry
like the trees that search in the cool night air,
with their thick dark limbs and their finger-like branches
I am hungry for another day
And Everywhere My Spies
I once made a twitter for my cat, who has since departed my company - I'm assuming he either ran away, undoubtedly from the pressure of too much fame, or was stolen by a crazed fan. I had just had knee surgery, and was pretty doped up on pain medication (in my defense). Nonetheless, Lord Fuzzy Mittens Destroyer of All Mankind, got his own twitter. He actually had more followers than me, of which he posted about very triumphantly. I, or rather my cat, would tweet about thoughts, and happenings from the lazy days of laying around healing from surgery.
Lord Fuzzy Mittens Destroyer of All Mankind, was my faithful companion, and had much to say about his boring days watching me ice my knee and take pain meds. One day he posted pictures of all the little trinkets strewn about the house, saying : "And Everywhere My Spies!" He was quite paranoid. He had random thoughts about National Batman Day, and dealing with our dog. He also wished Harry Potter a happy birthday, and made friends with Grumpy Cat. Often, he would jest that his humans had no idea where he was using the bathroom - the litter box was mysteriously devoid of poop, and no one could figure out where he was hiding his number two.
Gone are the days of cuddling with my famous cat, and of course no other could take his place. For a brief moment I may have understood (and tweeted) his thoughts, therefore coming closer to becoming one with the feline mind - or was it just the Percocet?
