Pills for Breakfast

I rolled over and pushed my face into the pillow. The sun streamed in the window around the edges of the dark drape I had hung to keep it out and stabbed my eyes as my morning headache filled my sinuses. This headache was getting to be a reoccurring daily theme. I untangled my hair from my face blinking into the dim light of the bedroom. My mouth felt like someone had laid shag carpeting in it and I knew I needed to get up to spit the vile slime out of my throat so I wouldn't start choking. There are several bottles of pills waiting for me by the sink. My bladder painfully stabbed me to let me know it still existed and was upset that it was full. I pressed my palms into my eyes ignoring my body's various complaints trying to assure myself that today was going to be different. I knew I was probably telling myself a lie.

I'd been in love with several different men this last year. They were all men I had been in love with before and each time we met it always ended in some disaster or another. This year was no different. It was a routine I had become comfortable with in an odd sort of way. Love someone. Make sure the emotions are complicated. Make sure the situation is even more complicated. Make sure someone gets hurt (usually me). Lather. Rinse. Repeat. At least these meetings of bodies and emotions were always brief so I always had lots of time afterwards to dwell on what had happened and how it had gone wrong so quickly so I could actively apply my expertize in over-analyzing.

I had my beautiful lover in the summer heat whom I laid with on the beach as he got increasingly uncomfortable with my presence. I still can't figure out why he wanted me there in the first place. I had considered just drowning myself in the waves to make the whole situation less tense. There was my lover in the fall who swooped in with a surprise phone call at 3 o'clock in the morning, fucked me hard through the morning in a hotel room, and swooped back out when his ex-girlfriend made her usual plea for his savior complex. This has been our usual arrangement for when he is in town for several years. There of course was the man I have known since I was a teenager whom took my tender virginity after we had made sure to be as drunk as humanly possible and still standing one night a very long time ago. The love, however, I feel for him seems to be moving into a place of deeper friendship than I ever thought possible for the two us. I found myself adoring his girlfriend and meeting his other girlfriend and liking her a lot too. They've made sure to make me a part of their group of friends and every time we go out dancing and drinking all together I end up having a great time despite myself. I often think we should do it more frequently. We always end up telling stories to everyone else about our youthful escapades the drunker we get. I'm sure everyone is sick of hearing the same stories over and over again but we just can't help expounding on our shared history.

As I lay in bed cursing the sun and the dull pain behind my eyes I thought of the people who have slipped into my life and into my bed over the years. Then I thought about how nice it is to have this big bed all to myself as I was stretching my limbs out to the four corners with the cats murmuring as I gently nudged them. Four years ago, or maybe it's five years now, when I broke up with my last officially sanctioned boyfriend, I swore I won't get into another relationship and mostly I've kept that promise to myself. I don't like who I turn into when I have to be around someone else for too long but then again I can't seem to stop myself from loving people. Maybe I do it so I have something to write about. Maybe I do it to drive myself crazy. Maybe I do it have something else to think about other the ennui that seems to be taking me over on a daily basis. Maybe I do it so I can get laid. I close my eyes and think about the new attractive young man I seem to be developing a crush on.

My bladder stabs me again and I finally get up to pee.

You Were Always On My Mind

I want you to know that sometimes I fuck you in my dreams, slow and deliberately with an aching passion that brings the moments of climax to ever brightening conclusions. Our skin shining in the moonlight. Our fingers entwined as our breath rises and falls to the rhythm of our movements. In my dreams I kiss you as deeply as the cool ocean. I love you like a collision of stars crashing and falling over our heads. I taste you. I lick you. I devour you like candy. Our bodies slide together in the slickness of sex and crushing desire. We are a tangled mass of limbs and delicate heat. We fall in love over and over again and the world slips away.

And other times in my dreams I tear your fucking throat out and drink myself full of your red gushing blood. Or I simply put a gun to the back of your head and paint the wall with your brain matter. I take your heart out with a big knife fist deep in your chest and I eat it. Devour the raw meat with a face covered in gore. I throw you into a shallow grave, pour gasoline on you and set you on fire. I watch you burn alive as your face contorts into frozen screams. I open you up from stem to stern and let your guts spill out like a crimson wave onto the pavement. Sometimes I keep your heart in box lined with red foil as a memento mori of my eternal violence. I poison your drink and watch you slip to the floor into a debilitating coma. I wrap my fingers around your throat and squeeze until every last bit of air has left your lungs and you've turned a lovely hue of purple. I put my knee into your throat and your neck makes a satisfying snap like candy and the world slips away.

That's how you can tell I love you. I either want to fuck you or I want to fucking kill you. Either way, you are always on my mind.

Waste Not, Want Not

I wrote my entire life story on the edge of a very sharp, very large knife so when I slit the throats of my lovers they would know why.

My Sex was Weaponized

"You see, there have been men I loved and men I had the vague urge to kill is some very violent and graphic ways. I'm not sure where you fall in that spectrum." I said to him as he took his clothes off. I felt for the gun under the mattress just to reassure myself that we were on the right path. That I had an out if I needed it. The cold metal against my palm calmed my nerves slowing down my pulse as more and more of his milky skin was exposed with each item of clothing dropped to the floor. He gave me his bedroom eyes as his belt descended with a thunk.

By the time his underwear came off he was as hard as granite. Soon his hands were reaching for me to undo the buttons on my pants and lift up my shirt in one swift delirious motion. I felt all the blood in my body rush between my legs making my head a little lighter than it should have been. With a few tugs and jerks of fabric against skin I found myself as naked as him. He ran his eyes over my body assessing the mounds of quivering flesh that laid out before him with his dick firmly in his hand.

He turned his dark eyes on me and with lush lips parted whispered, "You know, you'd look better if you lost 20 pounds."

I leveled the gun with his nose and thumbed back the hammer.