Weight

Sadness has weight.

In my youth, I was well acquainted with this weight; comfortable and seductively warm, it settled over me like a well-worn blanket. I wore it like a velvet albatross around my neck – it was almost sleek in how it felt, a presence against my heart that lured me into quiet contemplation. It brought on a lethargy that slowed time down for me; an antithesis to action, it gave me the room to think, to expand, to seep into spaces I would not normally consider. And when the moment came to pass through into something else, when the weight fell away, I felt all the more free for having carried it about on my shoulders (which had acted as a scale to the real and imagined griefs I had conjured).

It is not a mantle I wear so often in adulthood; anxiety and stress have replaced sadness and depression. They were luxuries of youth. Now, I do not often have the time, the room, for such things. I can be a dark person, but it comes now from my cruelty in action and not so much from a brooding demeanor.

And the familiar weight has long been absent, a friend thought of but seldom spoken to.

I believe there are times I miss it.

Anatomy of a Brief Affair, Part IV

Life is made of stories. Made of memories and anecdotes. Some of them are even true.

It Ends with A Story – 3/23/03

Ah, and this place. It is no longer so much about us, although that is there – it is purely about the tantalizing comfort of two partners trying a new step or two. About teasing. I am no longer trying to seduce her with what I plan to do with her and she is now too wise for herself, too far into it to enjoy the purety of just this. Now there is a story. This is the last time we found each other, the last time we spoke.

D’jaevle chuckles. Friday night was very interesting. One room, two beds, two girls, four guys.”

xyzia pages: “do tell!”

D’jaevle chuckles. We had just come back from the Strip club, and we were all rather drunk.”

xyzia pages: “and… give me graphic details :^D”

D’jaevle pages: “Well, it was hot, so we all ditched first layer clothes. The two girls were going to sleep in one bed, but I offered to give one a back massage, so she crawled into bed…”

xyzia pages: “and…?”

D’jaevle pages: “I gave her a back massage, which I am quite good at. Rather quickly, she was so relaxed, she didn’t object to my hands wandering. I don’t know what was happening on the other bed, but it was me, the girl, and on the other side, my friend Shane.”

xyzia pages: “and Shane is a guy, right?”

D’jaevle pages: “Yup.”

xyzia pages: “sounds like a situation I’D like to be in… ;^)”

D’jaevle pages: “Eventually, we decided to try and sleep. I curled up behind her, spoon, and he was laying facing her.”

xyzia pages: “that’s IT?? i’m quite disappointed in you…”

D’jaevle laughs. “No, that’s not it.”

xyzia pages: “well get to the good stuff then! :^)”

D’jaevle pages: “She was wearing these small silk shorts and a tank top. It was very easy to run my hands along her waist and pull her back agianst me, so that I was nestled against her ass. I’m fairly sure, by this time, Shane was teasing her breasts. No way to tell, except from the sound and the way her chest was moving back against me. Rather quickly, she was moving her lower half as well. It didn’t take *too* much encouragement. And those silk shorts slid up her thigh like they weren’t there – easy to run fingers over naked skin and down along the front.”

xyzia nods and licks her lips

D’jaevle pages: “It wasn’t easy to spread her thighs, lying on her side as it was, but I wasn’t in a hurry. I took my time, and the first moment my fingers slid up against her, she shuddered. I was almost positive she was going to tell us to stop, but she didn’t. My fingers found her very warm, but not wet yet.”

D’jaevle pages: “Dressed?”

xyzia pages: “tank top and shorts…”

D’jaevle pages: “Take off your shorts…she didn’t start wet, but my friend was really enjoying himself Between the sucking sounds from the front and my fingers, which were gradually moving deeper every time I rubbed against her, she was…responding very well. I was also pressed rather tightly against her ass still. It didn’t take much to reach down…and adjust my boxers so that I was rubbing against the silk, back and forth against her ass. She began to press back against it.”

xyzia pages: “what was the other guy doing?”

D’jaevle pages: “Again…could not really see what Shane was doing, but she began to moan, at first softly, but gradually louder. Her silk shorts, bunched to the side, she felt how hard and hot I was against her bare skin. I think he was fingering her now in my place. I had moved my hands to her hips as she rocked back against me. Her body wanted *something* inside her. I don’t think she was entirely conscious about how far she had gone, but I wasn’t quite ready to let her off yet.”

xyzia pages: “how long will you be at work this evening?”

D’jaevle pages: “Not much longer. Why?”

xyzia pages: “i’m actually going out in a bit…or i’d offer to come over and let you *show* me what you did ;^)”

D’jaevle grins. Easier said then done. I don’t think I’d be as gentle with you.”

xyzia pages: “nor would i want you to…”
xyzia pages: “so continue spinning your yarn…”

D’jaevle pages: “What do you wear under the shorts?”

xyzia pages: “nothing. they’re pajama shorts”

D’jaevle pages: “She was breathing quite heavily by then. I wrapped a hand up around her throat, pressing my fingers along her lips, which she began to bite and suck on – it kept her a bit quieter until I did actually press against her from behind – she froze when she felt the head, but she was apparently too far gone to stop then.”

xyzia lets her fingers wander…

D’jaevle pages: “She remained frozen right until I slide inside – but not far. Just an inch or too. She shuddered again and bit down hard enough on my finger that I drew my hand back. I do know, at this point…Shanekissed her to quiet her down. I could hear noises from the other bed too.”

xyzia pages: “what sorts of noises? ;^)”

D’jaevle pages: “One of the guys was rather vocal ;) I didn’t hear much from the girl, but their bed was creaking much worse then ours. I was moving very slowly, deliberately, when I teased her. She was almost constantly shivering…Finally, I got tired of waiting and gripped her hips and slammed her back against me, impaling her from behind.”

xyzia pages: “what happened next?”

D’jaevle pages: “I fucked her. Hard.”

xyzia pages: “did Shane get any? ;^)”

D’jaevle pages: “Still wearing your shorts?”

xyzia pages: “they disappeared a while ago and, well, my fingers have been busy. i need more details ;^)”

D’jaevle pages: “I wanted to throw her over the edge of the bed and take her like that, but that wouldn’t have been fair to Shane, who was at least enjoying some parts of her. When I got close, I stopped, much to her complaint and slid out. Then – we rolled her over, so she was facing me. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth was open. I could feel her shudder when he entered her. I leaned over and bit down on her nipples, rolling them against my teeth.”

xyzia licks her lips and moans slightly as her fingers slide in and out of her…

D’jaevle pages: “He fucked her almost as hard as I did. I would alternate between breasts, drawing the hard tips in and then biting. Finally, when I knew she was getting close, I slid my hand down and found her clit.”

Anatomy of a Brief Affair, Part III

This is the dance. Tenative steps forward, jumping steps back. She wants this, but she doesn’t want disappointment. A phone call not quite made, a meeting missed.

It is often only in the hunger of the moment, or in the presence of chance, that true physical consumation occurs. Because both elements are not entirely hers to control, and therfore can be reasoned as acceptable…

Balance Found – 6/21/02

Six months later. We did not meet the day after our last conversation.

There is still some pretense that we may meet; we are, in truth, just minutes from each other. And yet, we have found a rhythm to this play. She has matured in her writing and demeanor. It is an on-line maturation I have seen so many go through – starting with curious, passionate steps. Becoming knowledgeable, direct, pressing.

D’jaevle watches you, his eyes tracing the curve of your shoulders, the slow expanse of your skin, waiting.

xyzia’s hands pause at the clasp on the front of her bra, resting between her breasts. she unsnaps it and slowly, tantalizingly peels the material over first her left breast, then slowly over her right breast, turning her head slightly

D’jaevle’s breath catches in his throat, fingers clenching together, straining to hold utterly still as he waits.

xyzia slowly draws the lacy material over her shoulders and drops it to the floor. her fingers play over her skin and she gasps softly as she encounters her sensitive nipples

D’jaevle very slowly presses up along your back; you can feel his warmth, his body against yours. Hands come to rest on your hips. His eyes look over your shoulder, watching your hands move against your own skin.

xyzia reclines her head to rest against your shoulder, giving you a better view of her moving hands. she licks her index fingers and passes them over her nipples again, opening her lips slightly as she waits for your touch.

D’jaevle makes you wait as surely as you’ve made him wait, content, for the moment, to find the soft skin of your stomache, fingers spread to stroke slowly. His breath is soft, and just a bit harsh, against your neck.

xyzia turns to face you, pressing her fragile flesh against your clothing, enjoying the roughness.

D’jaevle captures your hands as they rest on your breasts, his eyes meeting yours as you face him. Carefully, slowly, he presses your palms down against your nipples, dragging your fingertips, fingernails, over the sensitive tips.

xyzia struggles against your grasp, wanting you to have your way with her. she leans forward and licks your chin, bites your bottom lip and

D’jaevle finally presses your hands away, replacing them with his, fingers finding each hard tip and rolling them, firm and slowly. He returns the bite with one of his own, his hunger taking yours. “I want to use you.”

xyzia’s breathing increases, her heart races as she kisses you deeply, her tongue exploring your mouth.

D’jaevle shares the kiss, taking his time, his control like a hard wall as he slips his tongue along yours, hands grasping each breast firmly, body hot along yours, “And to think, you are just minutes away.”

xyzia shivers as if an electric shock moves throughout her body and surrenders to your touch, wanting you to use her for you sick twisted pleasure…

D’jaevle presses you back, until you feel yourself held against the wall, pressed hard. His teeth fall to your neck, biting, almost enough to draw blood, leaving red marks as he moves lower still, finding the tender flesh of your breasts, his mouth like a furnace as he draws each nipple in, relentless in his hunger.

xyzia moans as she feels you tearing at her flesh as she runs her fingers through your hair and pulls your head closer to her body

D’jaevle draws his fingernails down your back, straight lines against your skin. His teeth graze each nipple, playing, teasing – and then bite, tugging it out, rough and slow, letting you feel the slow pressure against you.

xyzia struggles against you and leans down to grasp your shirt

D’jaevle grips your hand, leaving your breasts long enough to drag your hand down to the edge of your skirt, up and underneath, pressing it under your panties, so that your fingers are forced against you, “Tell me, are you wet?”

xyzia breathes heavily as she feels the moisture which has soaked through the material…a slight moan escaping her lips at the touch against her clit

D’jaevle keeps your hand locked against you, spreading your fingers with his own so you can feel it drag against you as he pulls your hand back and forth. His eyes are hard now, watching your face, voice harsh, “Need it, don’t you?”

xyzia feels her knees weaken and the desire like a flame between her legs. she thinks she can’t stand to be denied any longer and wonder how long you’ll continue to torture her like this…

D’jaevle pushes your hand away, his fingers swiftly deftly under your panties, finding the moist heat with a sure touch, fingertips slow as they draw down against your clit, “You remember how close I live?”

xyzia nods vigorously as she watches you with eyes slightly glazed over

D’jaevle slowly pinches your clit, just enough for the pressure to build as his lips trace your neck, “What would you do if I came over right now?”

xyzia pants…submit to your touch, surrender to your will, crave the closeness of your body…

Anatomy of a Brief Affair, Part II

What is it about the first bite that makes it taste so damn good?

Infatuation – 12/06/01

And after that initial taste, the pressing for more. What starts as curiosity has become something elsefor her, something she isn’t entirely familar with yet – and because of that, it has some hold.

What is so intriguing for me is the evolution Xyzia goes through in our discussions over time. Here, at the beginning, she is almost poetic, dramatic in her expression of desire.

xyzia pages: “its razor sharp edge slices through me and leaves an emptiness that longs to be filled”
…
xyzia pages: “my hunger is a passionate burning deep within my soul which threatens to ignite the very air surrounding me”
…
xyzia pages: “every touch kindles the flames ever hotter — i wonder how long i can endure the denial of fulfillment”
…
xyzia pages: “the pressure of your touch, the warmth of your skin, your breath on my tender neck — all are as real to me as if we shared the same room”
…
xyzia pages: “every inch of my body aches for your touch, knowing i won’t ever feel complete until i’ve submitted to your most intimate desires”
…
xyzia pages: “i’ll be torn apart by the absence of it and perhaps the same may happen with it. i’ll brave the danger for the promise of wishes reaching fulfillment…”
…
xyzia presses her body against you with all her might, urging you on but fearful of what may come next

***

xyzia runs her fingers through your hair, pulling you head closer, biting your earlobe, tracing its curve with her tongue

D’jaevle enjoys the feel of you against this knee, but pauses, his hands sliding up to the chemise even higher, over your breasts. His warm breath tickles your skin as he leans inward, leaving a trail of small moist kisses down the skin, teeth grazing, almost a bite, “Do you still plan on allowing me that massage?”

xyzia pages: “the thought of it makes my skin tingle in anticipation and creates a warmth in my innermost secrets”

D’jaevle draws his lips over the tip of your right nipple, mouth parted just enough to taste, to tease, “Say yes then. Tell me you want it.”

xyzia pages: “oh, yes — i want it! i want to submit to your touch, to feel your hands all over my body”

D’jaevle draws your nipple upwards, captured between his teeth – tugging lightly, slowly, and then a bit harder before his tongue slips over the tip, “Tell me you want to meet me and allow me to give that massage.”

xyzia pages: “i want you like no woman has ever wanted a man before now. i look forward to that meeting like i’ve never looked forward to any single event before…”

D’jaevle moves to your other nipple, nuzzling first, and then letting it slip into his mouth, bathing it in heat, his tongue rubbing rhythmically along the tip, “And will you ask for it?”

xyzia whimpers…i’ll do whatever you say. i don’t know with what magic spell you’ve enchanted my mind and removed my will but i need you to touch me, hold me, control me…will you do this?

D’jaevle nips the tip of your nipple before releasing it, his hands shifting to your hips, rocking you again against his knee as he leans you back, his lips tasting your skin, moving down your chest, “Would you do it tonight, if I was home?”

xyzia smiles…would you do it tonight if you were home?

D’jaevle presses his face softly against your stomache, taking in your heat and scent, “When I decide to do something, I do it.”

xyzia wonders if you’ve resolved to gift her with your skilled touch and if so when you will be home

D’jaevle smiles. I am resolved to gift you with a hunger that will eat you alive.

xyzia waits to be relished and devoured. name the time and i’ll count the seconds…

D’jaevle pages: “Tell me…how are you dressed tonight?”

xyzia pages: “tonight i’m wrapped in a black velvet robe with nothing but nature’s glory beneath…”

xyzia runs her hands over the soft fabric of her robe, hands encountering the place where it parts, fingers exploring the private recesses of her body

D’jaevle closes his eyes to see this in his mind. “A cruel image for someone stuck at work. But very…very enjoyable.”

xyzia smiles a wicked little smile and plants the additional imagery of the robe parting, exposing tender breasts with erect rosy nipples…

D’jaevle shivers slightly. Very cruel. And now I am even more warm.

xyzia laughs, reveling in the thought of your warmth and potential embarrassment. i, too, can be wicked and cruel ;^)

D’jaevle opens his eyes, regarding you with a smile, “So it appears. And how hungry are you now?”

xyzia traces the curve of her breast, running a finger down to her navel, parting her long legs as her hand discovers the warmth and moistness of the folds of her labia…

D’jaevle can imagine being on his knees in front of your chair, hands on each of your knees, eyes on your own hands.

xyzia wonders if she should continue or leave you with these images…

D’jaevle smiles..if you are enjoying them, if you enjoy your hand pressing aginst you thigh, and me imagining it…continue. For I am.

xyzia laughs. i’m enjoying the thought of lying naked in your mind, your eye taking in every detail of my body and wanting to know more…

D’jaevle pages: “Wanting to taste it. To taste your neck, the curve of your breasts, your hips.”

xyzia wants to hear more about what you plan to do to her tomorrow

D’jaevle pages: “What do you plan to wear?”

xyzia was thinking more of what she wouldn’t be wearing and hadn’t considered her actual attire… ;^)

D’jaevle grins. Good point. I will likely start with that promised massage. Have you laid out on my bed, hands on your bare back, enjoying the first touch against your skin. Letting you wonder.

xyzia smiles…and then?

D’jaevle pages: “From the massage, I intend to make you hungry. Just from the touch. The slow languid strokes down the back, the caress of breathing against your neck as I lean over, fingers finding the edge of your breasts.”

xyzia closes her eyes and smiles at this imagery

D’jaevle pages: “And when I hear the catch in your breathing, that you’ve gotten used to my touch, my hands will catch on your jeans, or skirt, and slowly draw it down over your ass, exposing an inch of skin at a time, an inch traced with moist kisses. Daring, hungry.”

xyzia sighs and spreads her legs further, enjoying the thought of this ;^) the thought of your hands, your breath, your lips…am i being too forward?”

D’jaevle pages: “If I say I will then roll you over and nuzzle your thighs, is that being too forward?”

xyzia laughs…i might shock you with the thoughts i’m having

D’jaevle pages: “I am not sure you could do that .”

Apex

This post is inspired by one written by VS in regards to the truth and from a conversation I’ve been having with NE.

Taking a break from work today, I was enjoying the unusually good weather and smoking a clove (an occasional, but important, vice of mine), when I paused by a large tree; the trunk was about four feet in diameter and a good hundred or so feet high. The limbs were thick and split several times, creating a cavernous canopy of shade and clear (if challenging) pathway to the top. In short, the perfect tree for climbing.

And I felt, for the first time since I was fifteen or sixteen, a surge of excitement – the kind you have when you do find a good climbing tree.

But I’m not fifteen or sixteen anymore.

I am often accused (by those close to me) of having never quite grown up. This stems partially from the fact that I still think legos are a perfectly acceptable gift to give and receive, partially because I am a bachelor who doesn’t always know the finer points of house keeping (not to say I don’t keep my house clean – I do; I just don’t always remember that even the guest bathrooms require hand soap), partially from my rather unique initiation into the world of sex, and partially because I am a selfish bastard.

I am miserly with my time and privacy; in my space (which means anything from my home, to intimacy), I want things on *my* terms, an affection that is somewhat responsible for my Dominating tendencies. NE has done a lot to balance this out. Of course, I know where some of this comes from – I grew up second oldest in a household of six children. I had to learn how to get off silently because, for much of my childhood, I shared a bedroom with my three brothers. Privacy and space were in short supply.

As for sex – well, for those who are caught up on my autobiographical posts, there will be little surprise in knowing that while I most likely knew *more* about sex (and all its permutations) than anyone at my high school, I had *less* actual experience than all but the most anti-social kids. This would change in college, but at the time it meant I missed out on a lot of teenage experiences.

I do not consider myself unattractive, but truth be told, my best traits are intangibles – the way I know how to exert just enough strength with my hands to make it clear I can hold someone still and yet make them feel completely safe under my touch; the way I understand certain human needs well enough to bring them to the surface with a few words; the way my intuition has allowed me to give someone exactly what they want within hours of meeting them. But in high school, without experience to hone them into a practical set of skills, they simply weren’t enough to get me to the dance on time. Of course, to be honest, I wasn’t really that interested in dating other teenagers. While my classmates were losing their virginity in the backseat of their father’s car, I was enticing thirty-year old women to meet me so I could practice spanking techniques.

The end result of which is that there are certain areas I am quite comfortable with and have been for a long time – and there are some that I am only now getting a chance to explore.

In a month or two, I turn thirty. I know that I have matured in a lot of ways in the last year and a half and my priorities have changed slightly. Now I have to decide what is important to me – who do I want to be when I’m thirty-five? I am not yet sure.

Two things I do know.

It is important for me to have certain people at my side.

And the wolf must always be restless.

Greedy, So Greedy

I am placing this up as a reminder. For both of us.

After our scene, I told NE to write up her thoughts on what happened. A couple weeks later I received a letter in the mail with three nicely-typed pages.

My written account of the scene can be read here, here, and here.

***

How can I write about a scene that you have written about so beautifully?

I guess that it is my job to write about how it felt to me.

Your writing shapes mine and mine shapes yours. That is very simple and some good and some bad.

When I walked upstairs behind him, he said, are you ready?
I replied oh so hesitantly, maybe.
He said yes or no.
I paused.

He said, NE, when you step over the threshold it begins. Be ready. (I love how personally and carefully he uses my name, and not just in a scene. He is the one person I know that holds true power in a name.)

I waited a few seconds to compose myself and I stepped over.

I walked in and I saw the fruit salad I had made sitting on the desk, I saw other things on the desk…sparkly, silver things. I didn’t look. I could wait. First of all I was scared and secondly I was so fucking excited I didn’t want to ruin it for myself.

I know that he is greedy…he is the greediest motherfucker I know…but in reality, so am I. I knew he had bought jewelry for me. I had seen some of it. I wanted to see all of it. I wanted to wear all of it. I had thought about it so many fucking times in my fantasies that it was almost surreal that it would actually be real.

I stood in front him, waiting for him. I was nervous facing him like this. He was sitting, assessing me. I knew that I looked good: light black button up shirt, extremely thin, very short linen skirt, high heeled sandals, underneath a black lace bra and a black lace thongs to match. I had never worn thongs for him. I liked them enormously, and I knew he would.

He had me undress for him slowly. I wasn’t angry this time…I had waited long enough, I was fucking ready for this. The only thing that I will mention is the jewelry. He made me take off all of my jewelry. I wear earrings, a watch and two necklaces every day. All gold, of course. I also wear two rings everyday: my wedding ring and the solid gold ring that he gave me. I wear it on my right index finger. I love touching it all time. It is a reminder. He stripped these from me first. I only wear jewelry that says something about me…to me. I love it. It is a fetish from the time I was a kid. In high school I had rings for every finger of my right hand. Stripping me of these things takes more away from me than taking my shirt off sometimes.

He admired me for a while in my bra and thong. I can’t help that the black lace and the gold of my hair look good together. Then he stripped me all the way.

I wouldn’t look at the desk. He said many things to me. I replied. But this story is from my point of view and so here it is.

He came over to me and put the slave bracelet on my wrist. I began descending down the inevitable staircase, just a few steps. I heard a heavy chain drag across the desk. I think he did it on purpose, slowly so that I could hear it. He attached it around my waist resting on my hips. I never looked at it straight on. I have no idea how I looked in it, but I felt it. It was heavy and cold at first.

Boundaries…restraints…I went down more steps.

Then he had me kneel in front of him. I was fucking dying. I knew that I wanted at least one piece of jewelry still left on that desk. At least one more piece to go on me. He does not disappoint.

He has a way of putting me down, when I am receptive to it, just by looking at me a certain way or handling me a certain way. I was receptive.

NE

To be continued.

Anatomy of a Brief Affair, Part I

Internet time.

It applies to more than .com companies and IPOs. More than how quickly engineers can double the current computer processing speed.

It applies to on-line relationships.

For a while I believed that on-line communication made it easier to get the heart of things. It stripped away pretense. But in truth, it doesn’t strip away – it merely paints over. The masks are just that much easier to wear. Yes, it can make things more honest. You may lie about your appearance, or age, or even your sex. Yet, really, why lie about the important things? Like your ideas, your secrets, your life. It is often easier to confide in a stranger then it is to someone who actually knows you.

Because this medium is made of words, certain steps go much faster. You quickly move beyond small-talk. You discuss relationships. Art. Sex. Love. There is an inherent mystery in the relationship, an aphrodisiac not to be underestimated. There is the promise of safety, which in turn promotes freedom and – at times – excess. One-night stands that last milliseconds in the pace of time on the Internet.

Chronicled here is one of those.

***

The Meeting – 11/19/01

It took only 15 minutes to determine that we lived within a couple blocks from each other; considering we were chatting in a geographically diverse locus in this particular rest stop on the information super-highway, it was a rather striking and interesting coincidence. After making introductions…

D’jaevle pages: “At least you have an outlet; my over-active imagination gets me into trouble.”

xyzia pages: “such as…”

D’jaevle pages: “Hrmmm. Such as wondering how someone will react to words, an image – a touch in words.”

xyzia pages: “such as… ;^)”

D’jaevle considers you for a moment and then steps forward, moving to your side and then slipping behind you, fingers brushing your hair from your neck; his touch light, fingertips along the nape of the neck, breath tickling the exposed skin as he leans inward.

xyzia smiles. “It’s like you’ve read my mind…that is SUCH a turn on spot”

D’jaevle smiles, “And such a fun spot to tease…a light touch, maybe fingers, maybe lips, warm against the skin, perhaps finding that spot just behind the ear.”

xyzia pages: “so tell me what you look like so i can have a mental image”

D’jaevle pages: “Why don’t I just stand in front of my window, maybe you’ll see me : )”

xyzia laughs and gets her binoculars

Ladybugs and Hypothetical Hypocricsy

Yesterday, while getting ready to drive to the movies, a ladybug landed on my windshield.

I have a rather solid truce with the bugs in my house. As a rule, if an insect is not bothering me and is not threatening to crawl/fall on me (or one of my guests), I leave them alone. Otherwise, I exert my rights as a brute and remove it.

Watching the ladybug crawl across my windshield, I moved the car out of park and took to the road. Despite hitting 70mph, the little bug managed to hold on. It would slowly scuttle forward an inch or so and then stop. The whole time, I fought the impulse to turn on my windshield wipers to remove it (a method decidedly lethal for the ladybug). I don’t consider this impulse to be particularly evil or bad. I wouldn’t have blamed another from knocking it aside. So why didn’t I do it?

It’s for a very silly, yet personally important, reason. If there were beings out there that was looking at me the way I was looking at the ladybug, I would hope they wouldn’t wipe me out without a more meaningful excuse beyond unthinking whim. So the ladybug survived and a few minutes before I arrived at the movie theatre it flew off.

By the general standards of our society, I am very bad man. My morals are more then a little suspect. I have trouble staying in lines. And yet, I can say without unconsidered pride, that I get along better with my fellow human beings then most.

Those rules I do have, those unwritten ideas that I live by, I work hard to uphold; many people who purport to live by society’s standards do not actually abide by them. And if there is anything in this world I detest, it is hypocrisy. But as much as I despise hypocrisy, we all live with it. No one escapes it. The least we can do it be honest about it and when possible try to live by rules you know you can abide by.

One of those rules I know I can live my life by is simple: Do no unnecessary harm.

When I make decisions that will affect others, including people I don’t know, I always balance my desires against this rule. Am I unnecessarily going to harm another with my choice? (defining what is necessary and what is not is an entirely separate topic).

Wicked, cruel, and amoral – Yes. But also deliberate, intelligent, and with fevered reason.

Woman I Never Quite Met

I didn’t know her. I didn’t really want to know her. It was the idea of her that pulled me in.

***

Times
I forget
Of times I slept
Dreaming of amber trees and lightly hooded thieves
Who crept through the ice like so many
of the things I want.

Some things are too good to be exposed,
like the embers hidden
or the curve of your hips,
making me wonder
if you taste like toffee
or maybe
you’ll look as pretty
as i think I might
picture you might
be.

I could say I know hunger
I’ve cut myself on it,
teethed with it until my
adult teeth grew in.

I’ve let it slumber inside me,
fearing that stirring it
might drive it to drain me from
the inside, consuming me until
I let it feed on the skin of my favorite
person of the moment, or maybe
I can just hold it against the wall
and take it, in a pressing of flesh
or maybe its you, I’m holding.