it takes a while to get going, but eventually his hand ends up behind her head holding her hair from the crown to the lowest slope it is wrapped around his fingers which are closed tight. he holds it back enough for her head to tilt slightly which causes her lower lip to puff and drop open the slightest degrees but enough to see the reflection of the lamp on her lower front tooth and it glistens in the warmth. this makes her breaths shallow and closer together because it excites her and she drops her tongue just enough to top the tip of the lip and he pulls her hair back confidently adding just a quick tiny tug which sends small sharp pain vibrations up her skull and as he pulls her head down more he comes in closer so their lips are so close almost touching and this makes her want to lick them but she wants him to make all the moves so he gets the message that he is in control. he pulls her head down further and this makes her cry out quietly and she gets more excited keeping her hands limp by her hips letting him know that she is fully in his hands and with his right one he runs his finger over the wet tooth and wet tongue and ends on the wet lips and leans in more and whispers one word into her mouth. Mine.

Venice
the third night i was in Venice i had swapped out partners from Conrad to Sherri and she knew someone in town. a skateboarder boy or maybe man who brought us to a squathouse somewhere in a part of town i hadn’t been to. there was a french (i think) polka band playing and wine was being sold by the pitcher and we drank a lot of it and i think i remember a really cute guy maybe in a white shirt who was in the band and the toilet was pretty much a hole in the ground which i would get used to four or seven days later in Istanbul. the next day i woke up with my first hangover in a long time i think i’m pretty sure i felt bad about myself but we ended up having a good day at the Venice Guggenheim museum and it changed my perspective about a lot of things. it’s interesting to think about these memories. i’m eating a granola chocolate cranberry cookie. see…

suffering is an interesting thing and i have found quite recently that it is usually self imposed and life is way cooler without it and i’m on the plane listening to Madonna’s Borderline having mixed feelings about this cup of coffee i’m drinking i don’t do milk or cream and soy is bad for you so its black and watery and i just looked inside and there are white foamy bits floating on top but i’ll drink it anyway. i rode a handlebar mustache the other day and it didn’t occur to me that i could grab onto the handles until after the fact and i’ll try that next time and the sheets were sweaty and i smelled the sex on my pillow when i went to bed and the other night after the opening after the friends after the round table discussion i ended up in an apartment with loud electronic music at two in the morning and it went nowhere i think mainly because shy turns me off and i didn’t even know that but its been a while since i’ve been here and i feel like Carrie Fucking Bradshaw which both horrifies and entertains me and i just asked for bloody mary mix from a can because its spicier than tomato juice and they don’t have tabasco and i forgot to shake well before i opened and all the good stuff is at the bottom so i am drinking it fast to get to the best part because i like instant gratification but this gives me a sour stomach and heartburn and it feels like a big fat metaphor for a lot of things so i’m going to sit back and think about that now. vanilla ice cream is pretty boring unless it’s Haagen Dazs with the black cherries kind.