White Liquor

This past summer was like all other suburban summers: short and hot. Short enough so that it came and went and, having not overstayed its welcome, would be welcomed again. Hot enough that little kids cracked eggs on their asphalt driveways, scrambled for a round of hide and go seek, and before the tiny seeker could finish counting to ten and move her hands from her eyes, the yolks were very well done. On both sides.

I'm pacing the floors going back an forth, wearing out the soles of my Doc Martens. The anticipation is killing me! "Where the fuck is she?" I ask. Waiting is the hardest part. I get myself all worked up over pleasure that turns into pain, that turns into longing. Here I am, peeking out the window every few minutes. Sometimes these fuckers play games, when I've already sold my Xbox 360.

Apple Cid er His drunk fucking breath poured ove' my mouth. I wished he would pour some whiskey in it. It was like romance could play every tune on my body. All the importance and his love had run into the darkest corner of my heart

Gentle Hands Every day I come here it ’ s the exact same thing Hands over me and I wish... Hands under me and I wish...

Log Cabin Clearing   The outskirts of some backwoods town A young girl with olive skin And the darkest eyes Brunette hair as light as silk And a radiance like no other

Note the well worn hand holds close to the side’s pockets of

I was looking out onto the ocean there was a opera house next to it. I was on a green grass hill