Nobody says you have to be gangstas, hoes. Read more learn more, change the globe. Ghetto children, do your thang.
Of course when I have to accomplish important pertinent things, is when I chose to get inspiration and procrastinate…
It occurs to me that, sooner or later my pathetic state of self loathing and pity will wear myself and my readers thin. I’m not sure how much more time I’ll need to be upset, grieve, moan, and bitch. My license to feel bad for myself has probably expired. Still I have a few prose that need to get outta me before I’m fully cleansed.
Someday I would like to get off land and work aboard a ship. In some capacity or another I need to be on the sea in the mercy of Poseidon. When I was younger I saw the movie ‘The Perfect Storm’, then proceeded to read the novel. What a damn tragedy, a tale as old as man himself. I wonder when it was that Captain Billy Tyne knew he and his crew were done for?. Not only that, did he feel a lurking terrible feeling in his gut? Was there really a calm before the storm? I imagine it as darkness, and silence, with no animals around for miles. Could he hear the whipping wind howling and whispering a death rattle?
Although I have never been a seamen I feel that I relate, although my story is not nearly as tragic or frightening. Still when you dropped me off at the station it was the strangest moments of my life. You didn’t look at me with those big blue eyes with sadness or regret. I couldn’t get you to crack even the faintest of smiles. I got out and walked to her window, and told her how much I loved her. Said something like, “leaving you is one of the worst things ever, I’m missing half of my soul when we’re apart”.
Then we looked at each other for a second and said nothing. I leaned in and received the best kiss of my life. We pressed into each other so hard. It felt like anger and love had crossed path at our lips. I bit your bottom lip and it tasted like the sweetest fruit on God’s earth. You nibbled, still to afraid to hurt me after all these years. How ironic.
I was blinded by how passionate that kiss was. Still dazzled I couldn’t even pick up on your facial expression, had I noticed then maybe I would have seen the storm coming. I hopped on my train, blood rushing, face still hot, and oblivious. The whole ride back I kept tasting your chap stick, a sweet fruity mix of sorts. I felt like the luckiest man alive, I immediately started daydreaming about the next time we would see each other. I think back and cling to that last kiss everyday. Only a few weeks later everything went to hell. I was definitely drawn in by the calm, and was not prepared for the shit storm approaching