fff#46

here it is. although i feel like im wasting a great starter. this is not my best effort but i wanted to submit something. i didn't even edit this one so go easy on me. thanks. i had never seen one before except on television… in the early hours of the morning when the weed and my insomnia had left me in a delirious state of consciousness. ironically my first interaction with this thing has happened in exactly the same state of mind. this thing had somehow found its way into my studio apartment and was a mere two feet from my face. i had passed out on the futon again and at some point this beast had wandered through my front door. in retrospect, i knew i should’ve locked the door. the hot musky smell of wet dog had filled the apartment and i immediately understood why i was laying in a pool of my own sweat. heavy breathing trumped the sound of the television and I found myself breathingin time with the beast. the glow from the television had begun to provide a silhouette of the beast as my eyes came into focus. my mind told me it couldn’t be real and i found myself reaching out to touch what i was sure was just another hallucination. it wouldn’t be the first time my subconscious had got me into trouble. the beast was covered in a rough, wet, matted fur; just my luck to touch the place where the beast had evidently been chewing itself. with my touch the beast turned and rose to its feet, suddenly becoming aware of my presence. if only i could’ve kept my hands to myself. if only i could remember what the news report on tv said to do. play dead? it was worth a try. after a few minutes the laying still got to me, i slowly grabbed a joint i must had rolled before passing out and sparked it. the light got the beasts attention and in the moment that the smoke hit my lungs i felt a piercing at my sternum. the mixture of exhaled smoke and coughed up blood was a new sensation for me. and all of this simply because i didn’t lock my front door.

fff #43

thong gong bong wong & tongs

a gong goes off in my head as i collapse back into my bed of nothing leaving only a trail of smoke large enough to make a forest fire jealous. seconds roll by while i feel my throat stiffen and my eyes scream for mercy. the beautiful glass bong now sitting on the ground still spirals smoke from its barrel after firing four life threatening shots; two into you and two into me. as we lay in each other’s presence there is a sudden realization that you are no longer wearing your thong; the last piece of restricting clothing between us. i motivate myself enough to risk losing your smell and pull my eyes open and look into yours. your deep brown eyes pierce through my senses and into my soul where you resonate and ripple through my body. i edge closer but have to close my eyes again to breathe you in and remember that this is real. i edge closer. your touch makes me shiver and in the dark and i can concentrate on nothing but your heart beating in unison with mine. the bliss of the moment is almost too much to bear. euphoria.

the next morning i am turning the fried plantains with the tongs when you walk back into my life. i find myself reaching for words when your lips grab mine. this is when i realize you are colder than you were last night and not at all as soft. the clothing between us that was so restricting then is now comforting and provides enough of a wall that i don’t flashback to last night. “fried plantains,” i finally let spill from my mouth, realizing immediately that you have no intentions of eating them.

“i really gotta go,” you say, “last night was amazing, though.” making your way out of my arms and most likely out of my life. “call me sometime soon, yeah?”

i suddenly find myself thinking about how long i may wait to call, even though i know I never will.

“wait,” i spit out as you open the door. you turn and your eyes sink in one final time. “what’s your name?” i asked, turning away from your gaze to check the plantains.

“kaya. you can call me kaya. and what do i call you?”

turning back to look at the closed door and the emptiness, “wong.” i say, “call me wong”