A doggy biscuit

There once was a man and a woman, but then there was another man, and maybe another woman, then there was a dog, because there often must be a dog, otherwise were would we be then? Burning and pillaging like savages? No, no. We’re not savages. I tell you, not savages. And a dog is proof of a civilized nation. A good nation. The type of nation whose people drink tea and eat biscuits. The fancy ones in a tin can, not those cheap ones that taste like sawdust that you buy in some tacky green plastic bag in the supermarket. Please, I spend good money on quality. I am a person of taste after all. A dog is like a fancy biscuit. Only the good breeds, mind you. Yes, like a fancy biscuit. You can depend on its quality. Its flavor. The biscuit’s, not the dog’s. Regardless, a dog is a must. A must, a bust, a trust. That rhymes, chimes, limes. Ooooh, limes..haven’t had those for a while now. Wait, where was I? Ah, yes, it was 1945, and the War on Europe was over. A man and a woman, and maybe another man and a woman, held the fate of the world in their hands…as did the dog. That dog was….gee, I wonder what those biscuits taste like? I could go for some biscuits. Oh yes, some tasty biscuits with a cup of tea. Yeah. That’d hit the spot. Where’s that damned dog gone to now? Ach, always something with that dog. First its fleas, then peeing all over the carpet in the living room, now its gone AWOL. I tell you, I should have gotten a cat. Oh bother…someone ate the last biscuit. Well, that does it then. I can’t continue this tale biscuitless. I quit. Good day to you.

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Mispent

I wish I could make every inch of every vein, every artery, in your body slowly freeze solid as I whispered over your naked skin, all the little lies we tell to ourselves. How they pile up so high, our little mysteries, our very own miseries. From yesterday to yesteryear, and longer before our hair fell gray to the floor, we knew each other, or so we thought. Love…what a lifelong deception it is. Now our bodies are frail. Our skin, once taut with desire, sags with exhaustion and contempt. The only strength left is for an indifferent loathing, dreaming of better days, or worse fates for one another. I wish, I wish…and I can only do that, and nothing more, as I watch the leaves fall, with you by my side.

Dance Dance

The strobe lights winked without pause or care. My body was already moving by its own, Devil take me, the music haunted me to my very core. The dance floor was bundled with sweating bodies, writhing slowly, unrelenting desire. I swayed left and right, letting the beat drive a compass to my soul. Tonite was the night I burnt my fever up, bared it all under the disco ball, glittering just for me. I was a dancing maniac, a lover in heat. Our pledge was my groove, held by my two feet; I danced the night away, letting life and mundanity take a backseat. Groove on, groove on.

Hair Down

Long ago, they say, there once was a fair maiden, whose shining black hair flowed from atop her crown past her soles below. Long it spread, far and wide, covering all the land; trees and rivers, mountains and valleys, every hovel of every village, every square of every city. Even their capital lay under its silk-smooth cover. Men, women, children and beasts were tangled in its supple touch. One by one they drifted into that sweet oblivion that is sleep. A scent of fresh flowers filled the air. Bliss, o bliss! Soon, the land was quiet under the endless mane. Now, she stands alone, amid a sea as black as a starless night; she combs it gently, slowly. A lover’s caress every night. Dreaming, yearning, of growing her hair just a little bit more. Just a bit more. A bit more. More. More. More.