There was a time
When I could go days
Without thinking of you
To me, you were almost like
A distant memory
A shadowy figure in my mind
Seeing you the other day
Your big blue eyes
Your easy smile and brown, curly hair
There is no way I can escape you
The sound of your voice
And the way that you laugh

I still recall
The sound of your moans in my ear
Your nails digging into my skin
As my fingers played between your legs
The sight of you bent over before me
Feeling your soft, warm skin against me
Sliding into you
Hearing obscenities and profanity
And then, just like that
It was over

You stole a piece of me
A piece I will never get back
I can hear you in the darkness
Your laugh, your voice
Even the way you said my name
They haunt me
Your lips from across a great chasm
Beckon me

I hear footsteps and dwindling laughter
And like the memory of my father
You leave me all alone
I hear nothing but silence
When I was with you
I felt like the carefree person
I had never been

Tell me, Erin
When will I get that feeling again

-Graveyard Night


Let Her Have It

“You know,” my wife, Shayna, said as we were tossing beer cans and burnt joints into the trashcan, “when we were playing strip poker, I couldn’t help but notice the bulge in Brandon’s boxers.”

I chuckled as I tied the bag shut.  Looking out the sliding glass window, I could see that Brandon was nearly finished with his cigarette.
“You and everyone else noticed, I think.”

“Does it make you jealous?” she asked, poking me in the ribs.  For years, Shayna had tried, but in vain, to make me jealous.  She would wear the tightest of clothing to the gym or the skimpiest of bathing suits.

Now, I have had my fair share of jealous girlfriends in the past, and all it did was leave me feeling hollow.  People say that the jealous partner is at least showing that they care.  But if they truely cared, why set out to make the other feel guilty for having a simple conversation with the opposite sex?

I then set my mind to believing that jealousy was my enemy, and I would endeavor to never make Shayna feel that way.

“No.  Why?  Do you want to see what his big black cock looks like?” I asked.  I am sure that my grin looked mishcevious.  After ten years of marriage and two kids, Shayna knows me better than anyone else.  It’s scary.

Her lips spread into a wide grin and her cheeks turned to a bright pink.  “No.”

“Uh huh.  Maybe we can get you naked again and stick these back on your nipples,” I said, picking up a couple of old playing cards I had licked and stuck to her nipples when she lost her bra.

Shayna snatched them out of my hands and crumpled them before discarding them into the trashcan.  Her face had taken on a more serious countenance, but the pink hue was still deep on her face.

“You had better not tell him,” she scolded me.  Turning away, she busied herself at the sink.  I knew that I was treading lightly.  Everyone had had enough beer and pot in their systems to make Cheech and Chong proud.  But when you’re in that inebriated state, the gates to inhibitions and common sense disappear.  I knew that had Shayna been of sober mind, she never would have been one of the first volunteers to strip poker.

“Why not?” I said, walking up behind her and sliding my hands up under her shirt.  Grasping her breasts in each hand, I began to squeeze and knead them like a ball of dough.  Just feeling her pert nipples on the palms of my hands made me hard.  “Brandon got to see your tits.  I think it’s only fair that you get to see his cock.”

Shayna’s hands were white knuckling the edge of the countertop.  She was breathing heavily, arching her back and pressing her ass against my hardness.  Despite the fact that a friend of mine had travelled over five-hundred miles and was going to be spending the weekend with us, I wanted to be inside of her.  I wanted to have an all night fuck fest.  But more than that, I knew how big Brandon was and couldn’t help but imagine the look of surprise on Shayna’s face when he freed his monster.

Shayna was breathing heavier now and was moaning softly.  She had spread her legs and arched her back so that my bulge was on her moist slit.  Her tits had become firmer and swollen; her nipples were more rigud.  I was kissing and licking her neck and shoulders as our dry-humping quickened.  I was close to cumming.

“C’mon, baby,” I said softly in her ear.  “You want to see his cock, don’t you?” Her pelvis hit the counter and glasses rattled.  The crotch of my pants were damp and I hadn’t even blown my load.  I abandoned the subtleties and pounded her like I was actually fucking her.  “You want to see his cock, don’t you, baby?!  Touch it, suck it-hell, even fuck it!  Don’t you?!” I growled in her ear as I grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled her head back.  Shayna let out a startled cry.

“Ugh…fuck yes!”

“C’mon, baby!  We’ve been living a clean, conservative life for far too long!  ‘Fuck yes’ to what?!  Say the magic words, baby!”

“Oh, god!  I want to see his cock!”  As soon as she said that, my cock erupted in my pants and my knees nearly buckled.  I leaned over her for support as our bodies swayed and rocked in unison.

“I don’t know about the two of you,” came Brandon’s voice behind us, “but this has me rock hard!”

To be continued 

Loss of Reality

I don’t know if it is because of the holidays, the cold and rainy weather, or the shit that I have gone through that I have documented on this blog and my previous one-but I wish that for a moment in time, I would lose touch with reality.

I hate days like this.  Where I know that others have it far worse than I, but my problems, although minuscule to theirs, seem insurmountable.  I hate days like this.  I hate myself.  I hate myself for hating myself!

Someone quick!!!  Find me a brick wall so I can bang my head against it!!!

-Graveyard Night

A Poem for My Father

My father passed away in 2003.  And everyday since has proven more difficult than the last.  So many things I want to ask him.  I miss him more than he will ever know.

Light shining bright

Fog drifting in

Shadows moving slowly

Footsteps echoing in the distance

Darkness closes in on me

The finality of a door closing

Your memory is like a vapor

-Graveyard Night

Defying Gravity

Depression has no ryhme or reason.  It just exists and attacks those it wants at will.  How many celebrities have you heard of that have come forth, detailing their battles with the Great Emotional Killer?  How many have committed suicide because of it?

My depression gets worse and worse everyday.  I keep dipping the goddamn bucket down that fucking well, expecting different results.  But I never see them.  Insane, isn’t it?

Afterall, isn’t that the definition of insanity?  Doing something over and over again the same way, and expecting a different result each and every time.

But even the day that I do
I’ll jump off and smile back at you…

I’m riding a big blue ball
And never did dream I would fall
But even the high may lay low
So when I do fall I’ll be glad to go…

-Waylon Jennings, Defying Gravity (Executioners Song)

Today, I feel dead inside.  Have you ever pictured your emotional heart as sort of a cave?  Different paths lead to different chambers and cells.  I have a pretty good idea of what mine looks like.  I will write about that at a later date.

I feel numb today.  Not even the saddest song on my phone can compell me to cry.  If a nervous breakdown could shed one tear, it would be worth it.

-Graveyard Night