Countless times, on the weekends when you are here, you leave for me a stream of yellow in the bathtub. Something angled wrong in this 160 year old building. Sometimes you hit the tiles, as you whip your dick to the left to spray. Do you hold a finger over your pisshole? Do you laugh inside your head? I don't want to know. She bathes in there too. I have been kind even letting you here. It is only because I love your father. It is May or June, I don't remember. As sickness washes over me and the rest of the planet too, it can be easy to lose track of time. We tend to the plants, stroke their leaves and name them all. We watch the cat grow fatter, as she lolls in the sun on the stolen chair cushion she's dragged to the hard cement balcony floor. I feel like I know Gamer Chad better than myself and she complains about Jordan Peterson. She can't stand his voice. But I am more tired and angry on weekends. I tell my her so. I tell her my solution. She tells me she...
Comments
:)
but it's my favorite of your posts...that and the one about bill being killed. both sit with me and pop into my head from time to time...
i'm so honored that you read and enjoy my blog. i am always excited to curl my fit beneath me and read more of your wonderful stories.
thank you so much.
I have always been thrilled when you left me comments.
Thank you for these words posted above me.
You have left me smiling as I head off to bed.
Q
You are all spendid, in my mind.
Q
(ignore Q the comment directly above, that is blogger being stupid. blogger should be shot some days. no more cookies for me.)
Q