Hurt me

The hurt is the best part of being alive.  So many people try and avoid it because it makes them feel too much, I do quite the opposite.  I run to it with outstretched arms.  I embrace it like the sun in winter.  I roll through it like leaves in the fall.
Anything that can make you feel so deeply should be an experience that requires waiting in a line for over an hour.  Where you ask your friends if they want to join you and even if they say no you head down yourself alone.  You stand with strangers, nervous in your gut but so excited you can’t keep still.
The list of things that people do to themselves that have a terrible effect on their bodies isn’t endless but its enough to fill both hands.  The list of emotions we let in to feel can be balanced on a few fingertips.  We would rather hurt ourselves then feel.  I’d rather feel the hurt than anything else.
Tell me you love someone else after I said I need you.  I’ll smile through it that I made it that far.  Leave me a note saying you can’t stay any longer and disappear from my life forever.  I’ll put it away someplace special and admire the curves of your handwriting whenever I miss you.  I want to hear anything you have to say that’s going to make my heart ache and my soul collapse as long as the words are for me.
I would rather feel like my world is falling apart and nothing will ever be the same again then stuck in a room with white walls and a chair and nothing else.  I would rather look at you for the last time then never see you at all.  Make the pain felt so intense that I can feel everything rather then staring blankly and feeling nothing.
The hurt is the best part of being alive because the hurt means we are alive.  Feeling nothing you might as well be dead.  Being in love is the only hallucinogen I need to see things that aren’t there or miss things I don’t have.  Hurt me.  Make me feel something.  Indulge my pain a little longer.


Him:  Why can’t we just go back to how we used to be?  I don’t even recognize that anymore.

THAT Her: Because we can’t.  Ever.  It’s gone.

Him:  Why does it have to be gone?  Nothing ever has to be gone, all you have to do is say it isn’t gone and treat it like its right here.

THAT Her:  It’s gone.  Face it.  It is so hard to bring back a feeling that has faded.  It’s impossible to make one go away that’s replaced it.

Him:  Nothing is impossible if we want it to be.  I don’t think you want it to be when it can be so simple. Continue reading

A little bit of nothing

Mud splattered all along her ankles and shins.  Her dress peppered with the dried muck as well as she stands there with her shoulders slumped and her neck looking like it can barely hold the weight of her head due to the entirety of her exhaustion.  She smile on her face is still bright.  Brighter than the sun even as she looks down the hill.  The walk was long and crossed patches of mud that could swallow a herd of cows.  The sun beat down like a desert but she continued to smile in the fresh air and the outdoors.  Her exhaustion was sought and she found it and hugged it with all of her might.  To finish off her day she collapsed in the cutest fashion imaginable.  She just dropped under a tree.  Splayed out like a chalk sketch of a murder victim that her adventure claimed.  The shade covering her sun and heat doused body and the sweat started to cool in the breeze.  But the smile remained.  The smile wouldn’t fade.  It was tattooed on her face and wasn’t going to drop simply because her adventure was over.

Read to me

Lazily sprawl yourself on the couch with a book in your hands;

dress at a minimum

exposed skin

eyes on the page

lips at the ready

And read to me with a voice that’s experienced the words;

pause where you’ve been touched

gasp when you’ve been tasted

inhale when you remember their scent

help me experience it through your words

Tease me with your limbs and your lips;

stretch your legs out long

roll your tongue and

purr your lips

but hold your arms tight as you grip the pages

Read to me as you lay half naked across the room;

make my pulse quicken

my eyes focus

my back straighten

and my breath stop.

Not the beginning, but the start

I’ve told this story a number of times to different people; the first time I hooked up with a guy in real.  There had been other times where I had talked about it on the phone with someone or was actually half naked with another guy in my bedroom but nothing ever happened from that.  This was the time I had actually went far enough to meet with another guy and have him put his mouth around my cock and have my mouth around his cock.  This is the story of my first time actually enjoying another man’s cock. Continue reading

More than I bargained for

I decided to meet them.  It had been a long, ongoing process of emailing back and forth but after a couple of months I thought it was safe.  In my mind a crazy person wouldn’t hold out that long.  Someone who wanted to harm me or wouldn’t go through this much effort I figured, they would just want to hurry up before they lost their nerve and if I dragged it out this long then the person on the other side would be genuine.

Continue reading


My wife just walked out of the bedroom naked.  I looked over and she walked from the bedroom to the bathroom, her tits bare to the air as she dashed the short few steps from doorway to doorway.  I love looking at her tits like that.  I love seeing her in any kind of nakedness.  I have a desire to go over and and rip the loose fitting sweatpants off of her and grab her pussy.  I’d drop to my knees and start licking her cunt. Continue reading

IWTBAG – Entry 1

Its easy to forget about the bigger things in the world.  That people have real problems to be depressed about.  That their lives are in shambles and the have no seeming hope to look forward to whenever they wake up.  When I think about things in my life and how I say to myself that I can’t imagine anything more depressing than being someone so completely average I’m not thinking of people worse off than me.  Fuck them.  I don’t know them and I don’t  care about them because of that.  I’m thinking how awful it feels to be a grown man who doesn’t feel like he belongs anywhere.  Like his purpose is to just exist to benefit someone else.  The life of always being an extra even in your own existence.   Continue reading