what on earth

a life could not be loved many

years unaccounted for

scratch the whole system

a rainbow upside down send

your colors into outer

space

there’s no home for you

here

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night sequence

by choice, you and me, we came in together on the back of big city adrenaline rush. we had a fight, you got upset and turned your back on me. i got lost like i did in those days, running away from all i knew, on purpose. a magnet for manipulation. surreptitiously hunted by strangers. most of what i had with me would be stolen, especially my pride. threatened and blamed and treated with derision. magically thinking, i wished for you to appear on any corner. some girl had a mind to show me compassion, but even she turned and twisted the knife, being skeptical and not buying my incredible story. lost and no obvious avenue home. no money, no phone, no friends. those I turned to for help could not help me for they were all too embedded in their ways. became convinced i was less so. how quickly one can go from respectable citizen to  vagrant. if anyone decides to hunt you and rough you up, for kicks, you’re a goner. that night, like many before and after, i got myself into such a world, so deeply, i almost did not make it out. why i was such a lost soul for so long, i may never fully understand; there were always my identities and sorting them out. now i get to wake up and thank god i’m no longer insane, for these are only night sequences, bubbling up from the depths of traumatic memory, and the unconscious. i’m okay with who i am.

broken ends

broken ends never end

Sometimes I paint my nails. Or I polish them, without painting. French manicure is my favorite style. I like to grow my nails out and the paint helps strengthen them so they won’t break. But I play guitar so I usually cut them back. Or they break when I am doing the dishes or working on my bike. I have not been to a salon in over a year. I highlighted my hair myself, and there are many broken ends, but I don’t care, just let it grow. Life is full of broken ends so you might as well do yourself a favor and accept it and move on.

I don’t mind if I look wild. I rarely wear high heels or dresses. I never really did much anyway. I am fluid in gender expression, identity and sexual orientation. I have been with men and I have been with women. I have fallen in love with them, or not. I never really saw myself as one or the other, exactly, but somewhere in between. My fashion is mostly androgyn. I wear what makes me feel comfortable and confident. Because confidence is sexy. I am tall and thin. Light on the dimensions.

I’m not at all interested in being admired for my looks or my intellect. I would rather be known for a kind heart. I challenge myself on a daily basis to convey the loving spirit in my heart. I tend to get shy and reticent with people, I mean my spirit, which is why writing has been my medium. I learned early how to express my true self to you with words. And it is essential for anyone to shine in their own chosen way. So go on. Let’s not be shy. Shine!

erotica five

They had hooked up before, you know. Just getting back to one another, it had been too long. They saw each other at the dollar store. They walked out that dollar store, each with someone invaluable under their arm. Each with one another. Hand in hand. Laughing. Invaluable kinda love. A dollar store’s wet dream.

The night began in the middle of the fucking day, you know.  Oh!

Light kisses on the insides of arms.  Pandora on the chromebook. Sad Flower, by Keston and Westdal kicked the whole thing off. Legs forming diamonds in the air, toes touching, knees bent. Arms just searching the air for a prayer. Fingertips gliding across the edges of ears. Acupuncture needles were threaded through, five on a side. Then Emiliana Torrini’s voice dripped out the speakers and filled the air. Set off goosebumps which got hard; then softened by each warm breath and whisper.

Then came the reflexology sessions, working the soles over and pushing the magic release of tension all the way up the spine by way of the simple careful pressure. Breathing got deep. And deeper. Then two bodies were like words, and freshly pressed.

This was not a test.

Four eyes met somewhere around five. Predawn. Just as they had put one another to sleep, the looking into one another’s yawning glass eyes woke them into the eternity that comes of staring into some soul for even one minute. Palms of hands surfed up the back of the calves, with sleeves of dragons fire biting the achilles.

Then a slow motion hyperventilation filled the room, synchronized deep breathing. Both women were naturally tan. One was a slender five nine. She did an extended child pose over the other, sitting back on her ankles in between the dragons, and pushing her upper body down and across the length of the other. And then the moment the deal got sealed: clasping hands  and way over their heads.

The one above had tresses of auburn hair, falling like flames over the shoulders and tits of the one below her with her boot camp close cut to the head. Their ribs fell into one another like a grill. The heat was fantastic in the predawn coolness.

The heat got spent in no time.

What was left, they took to the bank, by six.

By seven, they laughed it all out, side by side, in a milky way of sheets and blankets all mixed up.

Wonderfully spent. Came and went.

Spun out in a daydream. Pale and smooth faces, looking up like flowers to the sun.

They laughed it out at eight.

Oh, what a date.

 

-erotica, by Katya