• Sailing

  I was daydreaming about former lovers and lives long past. I hadn’t the faintest, but the twinge of this recurrence overwhelmed me. The haremic desire to be surrounded by pussy; to be shackled to the cunt, enslaved to the grand clam.

  I longed once more to feel her young tongue in my mouth as I watched the waves bob up and down. The light of the afternoon sun flickering on the water’s surface made my wish all the more tantalizing.

  Why was I such a prick? I was taken advantage of…or was I, in my mind, the rapist of underage women? Was it such an affront to relive my memories of nubility and adolescence?

  I wanted to melt into the girl and be forever forgotten by the world. I’d fade from memory, from existence, in time. And nothing really mattered other than the crown named woman of my heart’s desire. But instead, I caught myself playing some sort of table top game. The birds were circling, but I didn’t care, even as the fish splashed the surface of my serene dream.

  So, I played the crazy bitch, a temporary German pasta. I tried to kill my best friend’s soul. Traumatic insemination with a coup de grâce. Gonna skull fuck his corpse after the arrow is removed from his face. Feel the bloody brains give way to my thick cock as it forces its way into the warm mush contained within his head. But I was killed by Cain, my brother, who wasn’t my keeper. Brought me down in cold blood. It was worth a shot. I thought we could leave early, but I got a beer and the eve improved.

• Into the Night

  My childhood had never been a bed of roses, but it wasn’t until the incarceration of my then best friend that I truly came to know that there was nothing special about my life or life in particular, general, or otherwise. The compounding of the traumatic over the course of a lifetime can really channel the cynic’s ghost into the lens.

  I joined the Army to die and I did. Just not in the way I had intended. I wanted out of this god forsaken game of life. I remember thinking that my life was somehow special. That I was immune to human tragedy, since I had a purpose. Even as I watched terrible things happen to those close to me I recall thinking surreally that it couldn’t happen to me, but I was blind to the fact that it had happened to me. Of course, a tragedy befallen your friend affects you too, so why think of impossibility when the possibility has already become certainty?

• Mire

  He rolled over, tossed off the blankets, and laid upon his face before crawling out of the mire that was his bed, several moments later. Upon standing he cringed from the migraine, alcohol induced, and weakly staggered down the hall to the kitchen to fill his aching gut.

  He said, “When dreaming of mathematics, you know something must be wrong with you.”