When i get excited before bed sometimes
i have erotic food dreams. You might not
know the feeling. The guy behind the
counter where i get loosies looks me up
and down like he'd like something from
me, he's never checked my ID. He probably
thinks i'm like seventeen. I lick my teeth
and step outside to light the cigarette.
I wonder if he has those food dreams too.

When i was seventeen i thought i'd run
to California. I met a cab driver on new
years who won a settlement and had
a lot of dough? I tied his hands up with
his belt at comfort inn off of the highway,
with his pants down to his knees. Then
chickened out and couldn't sleep. He had
never done it so he only had my stories - and
we all know that teenage clit's like maraschino
cherries. So i told him so he'd know. But
i've still never been to San Francisco.

-------

I want you to hit me how we have sex,
how you make me smile.
Slap me in the face
Kiss me make me cry
Lick the snot
moving down my chin
A taste
of the tension that
was trapped inside that you
didn't create.
And I'll be
as light as you always admired me to be, again.

cum

no more junkfood
for comfort
no more junkfood touches
that spoil
my sense
for fucking you the way i
would want to
as as
as
as

Claudia Lives in Brooklyn

She’s relieved to be home on a wednesday. She turns on the main light in her apartment and puts her

black leather bag down on the floor next to the bar that separates her kitchen from everything else. She flips on the exposed light bulb above the sink then walks to the front door to pull her shoes off and turn off the main light.

She fills a pot with water on the stove and turns around to face the bar and her computer.

Claudia is 5’6” and a lawyer though she still looks like a little kid. Her parents are still together. She wears 100% cotton tampons, her brother’s a park ranger.

She closes her eyes for a moment while she’s stirring.

Sometimes Claudia Thinks About Nothing

It’s not like she can say she hasn’t changed since they moved to the city. She just envies that someone could put a name on it. That what’s risen to the surface has a name, that people see. Not like her’s they sense and are afraid of. 

Claudia is 5'6"

"Hey..."
"Asleep."
"Do you think you'll ever love me?"
"I love you."
"Really?"
"Yeah you're great."
"Ok."

"I don't know some secret you don't."

how 2 b a heartbreaker

 

i think he* stopped calling because i never learned to ‘smile.’

like your boss at work tells you when you’re zoning out at customers.

i’m giving you a hand job but (i told you) i’m not what you want me to be. when you come all vulnerable etc you look me in the eyes like

“why are you looking at me like that?”

 you didn’t say i had to congratulate you too.

I say

“No reason.”

 fascinated at his world without consequences.

he wants to be loved but he also wants to feel powerful enough to come inside of an 18 year old (he doesn’t use condoms). he says ‘the only way I want to hear about a baby is if it’s mine and we’re keeping it.’ but you’re also kindof having fun – your friends feel sorry for you.

he says he loves you and then gives you his leftovers for dinner and free alcohol (tells you which wine is which) you didn’t ask for so you owe it to him to love him too. you’re ‘liberated’ so you didn’t assume he was getting you drinks to lay some claim to ownership. he gets drunk and complains about the ‘friend zone.’ i guess what did you think he wanted of course all guys just want to sleep with you – your friends think you’re a slut. then you assume everyone wants to sleep with you and you’re a narcissistic bitch, and a slut.

he’s just a little messed up because people assume he has something interesting to say, instead of you – pretty and dumb.

He always wants you. He ignores your obvious hesitation, so you can’t just say no. He’s somehow always there to fuck when you’re horny or lonely, but you wonder if that’s not just his duty as a man.

He’s simple, pretends he’s no frills, works with his hands. 

he’s your brother or your dad or your friend and he demands to know absolutely everything about who hurt you/who took advantage of you/who put a baby in you that made you never want the cock and never want a baby so he can get angry and make it all about himself.

You’d rather not go into it. Your mom says you should let him help. Should you ask him if you have to?

He always lets you talk.

The word lesbian always feels like an insult.

his love life could be so easy it’s retarded that he doesn’t understand.

meanwhile you’re still confusing being high on free coke with caring about him for a second, and feeling like an idiot. then you get scared that maybe he’s insane. or going to give you aids, or something else really dark. something bad should’ve happened by now.

you wanna be a tease and a total prostitute and always horny and really good at sex while you’re still young enough, before you’re old enough to know (or to blame). you came your first time cause you’ve been doing kegals since you were 12 – that’s initiative. you’re turned on by the idea that grownups get turned on by you and your friends, you want them to show you the real world.

you want it to try to mess with you like you’ve assumed it will but never truly felt. you get off to memories where he holds you down and fucks you, when you were 17 and gave head to a cab driver, that video on slutload of the passed out girl getting fucked at a party – you want to know where that horniness comes from – then you feel guilty when you cum. you want to be one of those girls. you want them to touch themselves, and want to be you like you want and want to be the other girls.

 

 

;)