Desultory and Impulsive
- Thread starter y=mx+b
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y=mx+b
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Connect with the cold
The cold is not empty
Or dead
It is very much alive
With squirrels and downy woodpeckers
And even the bitter breeze
Which isn't bitter at all
If anything it is pure
It is honest
It reminds you of your mortality
It clears your mind of all thought
And puts them into your heart.
The cold is not empty
Or dead
It is very much alive
With squirrels and downy woodpeckers
And even the bitter breeze
Which isn't bitter at all
If anything it is pure
It is honest
It reminds you of your mortality
It clears your mind of all thought
And puts them into your heart.
y=mx+b
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I wish you could see this
It is snowing
But the snowflakes
--they are small.
The sun is out
And the light of it is reflecting off of each flake of snow
--like glitter.
I am watching it happen
--right now.
Looking out the window
Watching the birds peck at the suet and seeds
Flitting about on bare branches free of leaves
Against the backdrop of a field free of development.
This is my home.
I am here
And nowhere else.
It is snowing
But the snowflakes
--they are small.
The sun is out
And the light of it is reflecting off of each flake of snow
--like glitter.
I am watching it happen
--right now.
Looking out the window
Watching the birds peck at the suet and seeds
Flitting about on bare branches free of leaves
Against the backdrop of a field free of development.
This is my home.
I am here
And nowhere else.
L
LizzieEr
Guest
It must be beautiful, to see that. And to be home.
y=mx+b
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It is.
The chickens are afraid of the snow.
We have three chickens
A rooster and two hens.
Currently they are the only animals we have.
We will be adding more come spring
Their water was frozen
So I ran an extension cord from the barn into the coop
And installed a heat lamp.
Afterwards I chopped more wood
To add to the wood stove outside
y=mx+b
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On this day, 70 years ago...
My mother was born.
She was the surviving half of a set of twins.
I wonder how things would have been if she didn't and the other did. Would she have given birth to me? Or would that such as I--not exist?
What then if they both had lived? To which would my father fall in love with with?
40 years ago today my mother was 8 months pregnant with the youngest of three boys. Me.
At the time, my father detailed cars for a luxury import car dealership. On the weekends the owner would let my father borrow one of the cars to take my mom out to dinner. She said it was nice. That it was fun to feel as though they were wealthy. She said it was also nice because the cars were air-conditioned. They lived in Arizona at the time. My mother worked at the hospital as a nurse's assistant. A job she would have throughout the rest of her life.
When I called her to wish her a happy birthday
She was visiting with her cousin and best friend. The very same woman that drove 3 solid hours with a bottle of Jack Daniel's to be with her the night my father died.
She was 35.
My mother was born.
She was the surviving half of a set of twins.
I wonder how things would have been if she didn't and the other did. Would she have given birth to me? Or would that such as I--not exist?
What then if they both had lived? To which would my father fall in love with with?
40 years ago today my mother was 8 months pregnant with the youngest of three boys. Me.
At the time, my father detailed cars for a luxury import car dealership. On the weekends the owner would let my father borrow one of the cars to take my mom out to dinner. She said it was nice. That it was fun to feel as though they were wealthy. She said it was also nice because the cars were air-conditioned. They lived in Arizona at the time. My mother worked at the hospital as a nurse's assistant. A job she would have throughout the rest of her life.
When I called her to wish her a happy birthday
She was visiting with her cousin and best friend. The very same woman that drove 3 solid hours with a bottle of Jack Daniel's to be with her the night my father died.
She was 35.
y=mx+b
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Boohoo pity party aside and out of the way...
I would absolutely rail the fuck out of my mother.
Not now you sick fuckers.
Jesus fuck God no.
But I certainly would prior to my own birth.
Fuck it. Seeing how there's no unfucked-up way out of this.... I'll go all in and say I'd fuck my mom moments leading up to my own birth. You know... to add a bit more lubrication to help things along.
That very well may be the single most fucked up string of words I've thrown together for you all to find yourself unable to not read. I'm not entirely sure if this is a new personal low, or a new personal high.
But you know... maybe I actually did and that's why I hate myself so much. I mean seriously. Who the fuck travels back in time to fuck their mother prior to their own birth simply for the sake of doing so?
Me.
Good one sci-fi time travelling future me. Way to fucking go asshole. Now I'm all fucked up and sharing all this with everyone online. Way to ruin any potential personal progress you sick fuck jackass.
You know what? No. I should actually thank you. You have given me something I've not felt in a long time. A sense of purpose
Because come hell or high water I WILL find a way to do just the same to you asshole.
WHO'S LAUGHING NOW!
I would absolutely rail the fuck out of my mother.
Not now you sick fuckers.
Jesus fuck God no.
But I certainly would prior to my own birth.
Fuck it. Seeing how there's no unfucked-up way out of this.... I'll go all in and say I'd fuck my mom moments leading up to my own birth. You know... to add a bit more lubrication to help things along.
That very well may be the single most fucked up string of words I've thrown together for you all to find yourself unable to not read. I'm not entirely sure if this is a new personal low, or a new personal high.
But you know... maybe I actually did and that's why I hate myself so much. I mean seriously. Who the fuck travels back in time to fuck their mother prior to their own birth simply for the sake of doing so?
Me.
Good one sci-fi time travelling future me. Way to fucking go asshole. Now I'm all fucked up and sharing all this with everyone online. Way to ruin any potential personal progress you sick fuck jackass.
You know what? No. I should actually thank you. You have given me something I've not felt in a long time. A sense of purpose
Because come hell or high water I WILL find a way to do just the same to you asshole.
WHO'S LAUGHING NOW!
y=mx+b
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Okay. So I kinda went off the rails with all that.
Point being: my mom was an exceptionally attractive woman and I'd say "what the fuck did she see in my father?" But ah... he was pretty fucking damn good looking as well.
I find myself wishing he were alive so that I could charm him into sharing his more intimate memories just as I have my mom. Which sounds weird but it isn't. It isn't if you are me anyway.
What is weird is how quick my brothers, my mom, and even my own shadowy memories dismiss my father as being a quick tempered alcoholic and nothing more. And sure, okay, he was. I am able to see aspects of it in my brothers and through them I am able to see it in myself.
But there is more that I do not see.
Until I see my mother fall into an intimate memory of my father and know without being given any detail the rapturous reckless kind of sexual abandonment he brought into her life.
And when I see that
It's like the anchor of my ship finally catches some goddamn ground.
Point being: my mom was an exceptionally attractive woman and I'd say "what the fuck did she see in my father?" But ah... he was pretty fucking damn good looking as well.
I find myself wishing he were alive so that I could charm him into sharing his more intimate memories just as I have my mom. Which sounds weird but it isn't. It isn't if you are me anyway.
What is weird is how quick my brothers, my mom, and even my own shadowy memories dismiss my father as being a quick tempered alcoholic and nothing more. And sure, okay, he was. I am able to see aspects of it in my brothers and through them I am able to see it in myself.
But there is more that I do not see.
Until I see my mother fall into an intimate memory of my father and know without being given any detail the rapturous reckless kind of sexual abandonment he brought into her life.
And when I see that
It's like the anchor of my ship finally catches some goddamn ground.
y=mx+b
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There is one last thing I wish to say
...and it has nothing to do with what I have said tonight.
It does
However
Have something to do
With
A moment of a memory of kisses in the barn
Where words not matter
Not so much as the naked curves of a strong willed woman
Having given me what she could give up
Knowing that for her
I would keep it safe
Because I would keep her safe
Just as the rotted wood of the barn
Keeps what there is of our time together
Safe.
I want to make her pretty
But not pretty like pretty is
I want to make her horrifically pretty
I want to make her broken doll pretty
The kind where one eyelid is slower to open than the other
--if it even opens at all
If I did
If she let me
I would write her about it
About how I felt having done such things to her
And we would make love in a distant moment
Then hate the other for having made it so easy
To feel hurt once again
Until we touched once more
To end it one last time
With one more cum puking throat fuck
And piss sweat eye sting
And passed out torn rectum
Golfball gaping hole fistfucking
One more shower together
Drying her off one last time
Feeling her body
Burrow into the towel I wrap her in
Watching her fall asleep
One last time
Once again.
...and it has nothing to do with what I have said tonight.
It does
However
Have something to do
With
A moment of a memory of kisses in the barn
Where words not matter
Not so much as the naked curves of a strong willed woman
Having given me what she could give up
Knowing that for her
I would keep it safe
Because I would keep her safe
Just as the rotted wood of the barn
Keeps what there is of our time together
Safe.
I want to make her pretty
But not pretty like pretty is
I want to make her horrifically pretty
I want to make her broken doll pretty
The kind where one eyelid is slower to open than the other
--if it even opens at all
If I did
If she let me
I would write her about it
About how I felt having done such things to her
And we would make love in a distant moment
Then hate the other for having made it so easy
To feel hurt once again
Until we touched once more
To end it one last time
With one more cum puking throat fuck
And piss sweat eye sting
And passed out torn rectum
Golfball gaping hole fistfucking
One more shower together
Drying her off one last time
Feeling her body
Burrow into the towel I wrap her in
Watching her fall asleep
One last time
Once again.
Icy1
Wandering through.
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It would depend on the woman and the size of her vagina.
Wife of Bath
Personals Mod. Again
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y=mx+b
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Yes. As well as the size of the marbles. And maybe where she was in her cycle.
y=mx+b
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Sweet Jesus fuck. Two different women posting back to back after decades of me twiddling my thumbs on this wretched island of myself that I created. I'm
finding myself feeling somewhat hopeful once again!
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I want to make her broken doll pretty
The kind where one eyelid is slower to open than the other
--if it even opens at all
I fucking love this.
The kind where one eyelid is slower to open than the other
--if it even opens at all
I fucking love this.
L
LizzieEr
Guest
I wish you would record something. Something cold, woodsy and dark. I don't know if that makes sense but I do hope you will.
y=mx+b
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Random words
...and a thought about upstairs
She was a gutter fuck cum whore that wanted to be made
Electrical burial soldering iron of a sweet saffron slip split
Wet with suck
A desire so strong broken ribs break more
Just to breathfuck her vanilla scent breast
A thought I once thunk I knew not I did
But I had her bound
Blade cut grass crammed up against her crotch
Lifted tip-toes into the air by a turboprop rim reamer I watched
I watched while she wept like she knew I wanted her to
Tears touched me
Burned me
Broke my barriers
Took hold of what I would never be
To keep protected within her heart
My reason to keep beating her
Beating her blood vessels
Breaking her down to a beautiful black and blue
Then that dead flower
Shit stained
Muddy yellow brown color
Of back upstairs
Where I can whitewash wax her walls
Plug shut plumb tight
Once again for the night.
...and a thought about upstairs
She was a gutter fuck cum whore that wanted to be made
Electrical burial soldering iron of a sweet saffron slip split
Wet with suck
A desire so strong broken ribs break more
Just to breathfuck her vanilla scent breast
A thought I once thunk I knew not I did
But I had her bound
Blade cut grass crammed up against her crotch
Lifted tip-toes into the air by a turboprop rim reamer I watched
I watched while she wept like she knew I wanted her to
Tears touched me
Burned me
Broke my barriers
Took hold of what I would never be
To keep protected within her heart
My reason to keep beating her
Beating her blood vessels
Breaking her down to a beautiful black and blue
Then that dead flower
Shit stained
Muddy yellow brown color
Of back upstairs
Where I can whitewash wax her walls
Plug shut plumb tight
Once again for the night.
Last edited:
y=mx+b
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It does.
I will refrain henceforth from posting
And focus all efforts to create something worth recording.
y=mx+b
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y=mx+b
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Happiness is finding someone you don't have to explain yourself to.
They just know.
They just know.
L
LizzieEr
Guest
No, not like the first 328 pages of War and Peace.
L
LizzieEr
Guest
This is lovely.
