coffee

I am craving

Oh my god I am craving to speak. I am craving to hear myself inundate a deluge of words that will leave the air in front of me soaking in satin-like sweetness. Stir and pour like love. It is more than the sigh for dark chocolate melting in my mouth, or the smell of it before it even touches my tongue. It is more than my bare skin’s plead for his touch or warm kisses that tickle down my neck. It is not a secret anymore that I’m ticklish everywhere. I want it I want him I want everything

Repeated, I was a killer. I have crazy dreams.

This is refreshing after not having read some Y-Lai for a while.

wolvesandclaws:

The room was small, dark, extremely musty and dank. Often, I roamed from street to street, by feet with flat shoes that have worn down to the very last bit of so[u]le. I encountered plenty of people along the way, walking beneath the freeway ramps, across railroad tracks, and alongside building rooftops where no one actually noticed me. 

I always ended up in the most dangerous and oddest predicaments that ranged from me running away from police officers, to being the most wanted criminal (and associating with them), to detonating people’s head. It would not make sense for me to say these things without truly explaining to you what happened the last few days.

It started when I was walking along the dirt sidewalk next to the railroad tracks —

It was going to sundown, and the people around me began putting on their hoods, throwing their hands into their jacket pockets, and hanging their heads down low. I proceeded to follow their motion, and continued to walk alongside to nowhere. At the end of the street, I saw a strange car parked next to my shack, and I immediately turned right at the intersection and quickened my pace. I heard the roar of an engine behind me and I began to dodge all buildings, all streets, escaping into a narrow alley way until I recognized a large building in front of me, — to which I assumed was abandoned, — and hid inside one of the rooms at the top. I was out of breath and began to wonder what it is that they were chasing me for. 

As I peered out the window to see if I had lost the car my ears perked at the sound of rustling behind me, and to my surprise, there were 3 men behind me, moving packaged boxes that were filled with god-knows-what. I stood my ground and waited to see if they would do anything. They glanced at me, and went back to their business. I shook my head in disbelief and contemplated whether to go towards them or to just escape before something more menacing would occur. To my unconsciously decision, I made my way towards the men, noticing an elderly woman laying on a mat in the corner of the room where two windows were adjacent on two walls. She was sleeping, tucked in two thick blankets, and with a nose cannula sending her oxygen.

I continued to take small steps towards the men, whom were still moving boxes from a room that I assume in the kitchen, to a large 16-wheeler down below and behind the building. One man, large and rather childish looking, stopped his duties, looked at me, grinned, and resumed his work. Another man, who was about the same height as I, just a tad chubby, raised an eyebrow at me, nudged the 3rd man, whom I assume is the proprietor of this entire operation, and whispered something incomprehensible. I took a slight step back and gazed at the 3rd man’s eyes. He approached me with an odd aura of friendliness, and for which in return, I began to caution myself. 

He greeted me in a lowly tone, and explained to me that this small room, or apartment, I should say, is a place where he takes care of his sickly grandmother, as well as his aunts and uncles. He pointed to the elderly woman and identified her as his grandmother, and the next of the things that happened to me that day truly frightening — he pointed to a pile in which I had failed to notice earlier, and identified them as his aunts and uncles. I peered over the sheets that covered the bodies and realized that they were dead. 

A sudden chill ran throughout my body as I staggered back in horror. I turned around and saw the 3rd man holding a Taurus 941 pistol in his hand, but he did not point at me. Instead, this man handed me the gun, gave me a case of little ammo, told me to conceal it in my pocket, and proceeded to lead me to the edge of the kitchen where he handed me a small black box, the size of my palm, with two buttons, but neither was labeled. He explained to me that the boxes he was to soon transport were drugs (and I wasn’t surprised either), and that I needed to take this rifle, a Muger M77 Mark 2, and scale the building behind his, and shoot his grandmother. Involuntarily, I reached for the rifle, and slung it over my shoulders. 

As the two men wrapped up the last of the boxes, I knew instantaneously that it was time to carry out a deed that I had altered in my head. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I did know that I would kill this woman, and that I need to get as far away from these men as I possibly could, and kill them, for they surely have registered my face in their minds. I stepped out the front door with the 3 men, a pistol in my right pocket, a detonation control in my left hand, and a rifle slung over my shoulders. Around this part of town, there was no one, and no one ever even dared to venture out far from the towns perimeters. 

If anyone was caught outside the towns set boundaries, we were set to be killed on spot. We climbed down the stairs and up the building to our right. I saw that the carrier truck behind their building had already started to drive away, as we were on top of the building roof. This one was shorter than theirs; they instructed me to climb the stairs around the end side of the building, and do what it was that they had explained earlier, and run as far as I can from this all. As we walked toward the end of the building, I hear helicopters in the distance, and car doors shutting behind us. It was the worst of the worst that had begun to occur. We looked behind us and saw that the town’s special team had come for us. The 3rd man, the man who gave me all my weapons, told me to make a run for it, but the team had caught up to us and we were caught in multiple crossfires. 

He told me that the detonation control he gave me had two buttons, neither labeled, that one would detonate his grandmother’s head, and the other would blow the building up. As  more and more of the team began to scale the building, I told him that I needed to know which was the one for the building. He smirked and said, “I don’t know, I had someone make it for me without telling me which was which.” My jaw locked up. I was stuck between blowing up a woman’s head to whom I never knew, to blowing up the entire building with everyone else in it. In the mist of the action, I pressed the first button on the remote, and a large explosion blasted the woman’s head in the corner of the room.

Strangely enough, the team had diverted their attention to the building, in which gave me time to pull out my pistol, shoot a few men, and make my way down the stairs behind the roof we were atop. As I climbed down the stairs, I saw the 3rd and 1st man following after me. Our feet touched the ground and he told me to hide beneath the cars that were parked behind the building. I panicked and followed his orders immediately. 

Of course, we weren’t hidden for very long — the team found us immediately after the explosion and began to drag the two men out from underneath the cars, and I quickly crawled out, shot one of the team specialist, and make a run for the alleyway behind the buildings. When I had felt that I was far away enough for the team, I climbed another building and was faced with a largely open space, with a door to the left of me. I was skeptical, but I knew that I couldn’t have left the woman’s body in the building without a proper burial, especially not since I was the one who .. killed her. I waited for nighttime to fall before returning to the building to retrieve her body. 

Then I woke up, and never really knew what happened after that..

Tell me though, why do we hide just to reveal ourselves?

You’re not a lot to describe unlike he was. That’s not a bad thing though. Your scent isn’t carved in you like a trademark. You do not smell as strong he did that it would remain in my senses even when I’m alone in my bed and going to sleep at night. I could imagine him next to me. You know, that type of thing. But this isn’t about him. He’s gone. He’s just a figure. He’s just another remnant to write about. He’s a walking shadow lurking around the same halls I do every day. And even though he thinks he’s gone within me, he’s not. It’s true when I tell you I’m over him. But he won’t disappear in the little black box in my head and I’m screaming come on, get out.

I wish the consequences were strenuous enough to scare me into doing what’s right. I want to have no other choice.

I’m sorry I have a history I cannot erase. But here I am trying to make as much room for anyone who wants to come because I am discovering how much all the little remnants of you floating in the air around me scares away the soul who wants to occupy your place now.

There is not a clear space in front of you, love. But I am doing what I can to clear off all the stained patches of him.

I’m not very pretty being over here still struggling to sweep off things you have long ridden off from your platter.

Don’t go, I want to keep you near.

She is so quiet. She always has been. She’s all reserved and uptight and mysterious. Never have I felt that I’m welcome to know more of her. Shit man. Shit. She’s another quiet story never told. We lived in the same house for one year and I did not get a single piece of her except for the fact that there’s a wall in between me and her that I cannot demolish. I feel defeated for that. I don’t know why.

You feel all polished and new when you are taken to a place you don’t go to every day. I liked the vibe of it, the young children and the smiling environment. It sucks how when you become high school our elders eye us like monsters trying to rebel. Not everyone is like that. And if you all sent out a little air of hope rather than hatred then maybe we would be a better generation. Who raised who anyways?

Although, that is just one factor in why we are like this. The media’s crazy and society is rad as hell. Years ago, philosophers were already saying that the world is going to get worse and worse. Even the bible declares the world will not get any better. But if we had been less pessimistic about the world, do you think we would end up improved instead of depressed?

We can’t change fate. But the thing with fate is it’s not concrete.

This is one of the reasons I started doubting the bible.