Wine and Pixies and the way she spreads herself wider than I could ever imagine and even though we’ve been drinking for twelve hours straight I’m still hard and her body is melting and when my tongue touches her plastic lips it drips drips drips and even though her parents think I’m nice there’s nothing more I enjoy than to eat her like a peach until passing out face-first between her legs. It was evening but now it’s morning but soon it will be evening again and here comes taxi rides and blurred faces and bars where we down pitchers of cocktails and then comes chips grabbed from burger vans parked in vacant lots and sometimes when we escape the crowd she pulls up her top until I’m blinded and only then does she whisper that she loves me. Reaching out, I caress her breasts and pinch her nipples but then we’re gone and the lot is replaced by the bridge that passes over the lake or could it be the road where people always fall in an attempt to leave it all behind? There are clouds so many clouds and when I tilt my head to the sky it could be London or Oxford or even Reading and when she takes my hand and drags me onto the bus there’s no journey only the flashing lights of cops cars and the whites of her eyes and then the touch of her hand down my trousers and even though I’m half-cut she takes me to the brink only to push me away and then comes warm cans of beer and shots of dirty rum and then the smoke of cigarettes on balconies that overlook bus stations and garages where the rats and junkies dance arm in arm as all the meteorites of the universe pass back and forth between the real me and the false me in the mirror in the toilets as those by my side piss all over their designer shoes. She told me to buy rubbers for later but I need the change for an energy drink in the morning to blow away the cobwebs so I tell her the machine was broken and so we dance with others but before we know it we’re travelling through time and soon I see the moon upon her shoulder until we collapse and we’re on our backs in a field of grass holding hands while laughing at the state of her chipped fingernails and then she’s spreading herself wider and wider as I kick my clothes into the corner of the room before turning out the light as the room spins and spins and spins and I bite her chin and smear kisses where kisses should be.

A Journal for Damned Lovers on

A Journal for Damned Lovers on 

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