Tag: weird

Fuck: IX

“Ay You fucking me good, papí”

“Sí, te gusta? You so goddamn sexy.”

“Ay, hit that spot. Fuck yeah. Ooo fuck yeah.”

My phone rings, and we both halt. You turn to look at me and spank your butt cheek a little.

“You not gonna answer that, are you?”

“Hold on, mama.”

I slide my strap out of your pussy and rush over to grab my phone hidden under my pile of clothes on the floor.

“Yo,” I say into the mic.

“Dauhd…”

“Lana? What’s wrong?”

“Tyson…he hit me…”

“What?!”

“I’m sorry—“

“Where are you?”

“I don’t know…I ran. I’m barefoot on a side road.”

“Stay where you are. I’m coming right now. Shit. I’ll call you right back okay? I love you, just wait for me.”

I hang up the phone and scramble to pull off my strap and get my clothes on. You light a cigarette.

“That little ass girl always crying about some shit,” you chuckle.

“Watch your mouth.”

“So you gone stop fucking me to go save a bitch that can’t even commit to you or admit she gay? Dauhd, get the fuck out.”

“Gadly.”

I slam the front door shut and jog to my car in Monica’s driveway. I dial seven digits once I am in the driver’s seat.

“Lana. It’s me, baby. Where are you? What’s around you?”

“Um. Uh, a gas station with green lights. Um. That’s it, Dauhd, that’s it.”

“Is it the Lenpro gas station?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s it!”

“Okay, alright. I’m coming. I’m coming right now. You want to stay on the phone with me?”

“Yeah…”

“What happened, baby?”

“I don’t know. He was angry. He could smell your scent on me. Your cologne. And he wanted to know where I been, who I been with. I told him I was leaving him and he choked me and punched me and—“

“What! Lana, what the fuck! Are you bleeding?”

“Yeah…”

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I should have never brought you there. I’m so sorry. Look, you can stay with me. I’ll run a bath for you and massage your feet. I’ll take care of you, okay? You don’t have to go back.”

“Dauhd, I love you. I can’t stay with you. I don’t want to fight with you.”

“I aint gone hurt you, Villana. You know me. It’s your choice, but you know me.”

“I know…I’m just so fucked up right now.”

“I know. It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay. I’m here with you, okay? I’m here. I’m here, Lana. Turn around.”

I jump out of the car and run over to you. I survey your bloodied face and both your black eyes. I’m not sure if I should touch you or not.

“Lana…”

“I know…its bad.”

You collapse into my arms and I hug you with all my might.

“It’s okay. He ain’t gone get away with this,” I whisper in your ear.

I hold your hand and lead you to my car and gently lay you down in the back seat.

I drive to my condo with fume releasing from my ears and I listen to you snore quietly behind me.

Fuck: VII

“Then tell me the truth,” I sit up in the bed and cross my legs, “How many men are you fucking, huh?”

“Why? It’s not important.”

“It is important. Why won’t you tell me?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” You sit up also and climb into my lap, wrapping your arms around my neck, and holding me close to your heart.

I respond with my arms around your waist, “This hurts me, Villana. It already hurts. Tell me, please just tell me. How many is it?”

“I don’t know. A lot.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“So why don’t you want to have sex with me anymore?”

“Because I actually like you!” You jump up and storm across the room to the window and peer through the curtain, “I fucking like you. I want more. I’m discovering myself. I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you. You are different. Kind. Sweet. Real. You’re real. Understand?”

“Do you understand? I have fucking feelings.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Villana. Just tell me the truth…how many…is it?”

“Ten.”

“Jesus.”

“See! You’re judging me!”

“I’m not judging you. I don’t care. But…I love you. I cant even think about another making love to you.”

You turn to face me. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and glare at your silhouette.

“I don’t make love to them. I just let them fuck me.”

“Stop.”

“And maybe I suck their dicks sometimes.”

“Stop it!”

“And I like it in the ass.”

“Will you stop it.”

“You said you wanted to know. So there it is. All my dirty laundry, Dauhd.”

I sigh. I walk over to you and stand inches away from your face.

“How can you tell me you love me,” I whisper, “When you share yourself with so many. People who don’t matter. You’re getting married next month. When you gonna call it off?”

“I’ll do it now. I’ll call him and do it now.”

“Then what?”

You stare into my eyes as though I just slapped you in the face.

“I don’t know. We can be together.”

“I don’t want to be with you, Villana, now that I know this.”

“See that’s why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“You didn’t want to tell me the truth?”

“You tell me the truth. How many women have you been with?”

“In my lifetime?”

“In the past two months, Dauhd!”

“Stop yelling at me.”

“Tell me!”

“Tell you what!”

“How. Many. Women. Have. You. Been. With,” you muffle through clenched teeth.

“Several, Villana, because am I supposed to wait around for ten men to gets their nuts off?”

“Fuck you, Dauhd.”

“Fuck me, Lana, cause that’s the only thing you ever want to do.”

“I’m leaving.”

I watch silently as you spin around the room gathering your belongings and stuffing them in your duffle bag. You start toward the bathroom, but the darkness reveals an item on the floor that causes you to slip and fall. I run over to you as your body hits the floor. You break out into a sob, curling yourself up into a fetal position.

I put my arms around you and hug you tight.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, “I shouldn’t have asked, “Where are you going to go? It’s 2:00 a.m.”

“Away from you,” you say between whimpers.

“Please. Don’t go. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Shutup, Dauhd.”

“I’m serious. I’m sorry. Please. Come lay with me. At least let me make love to you before you go.”

I scoop you up and carry you to the bed. I lay you down gently and begin to kiss all the tender spots of your body: your cheeks…your chin…your neck…your chest…your abdomen…

I see your body start to relax and moans escape from your lips. You massage my shaven head as I kiss you.

“You’re right,” you state quietly.

I stop and look up at you, “What?”

“You’re right. It’s disgusting that I’m fucking that many men. You don’t deserve that.”

I crawl up next to you and slide my arms around your body and pull you close to me. Our breathing is in-synch. I can feel your heart beat on my chest. Silence embodies our auras in the dark room. The crickets harmonize outside the window. A couple down the hall argues and a baby wails.

“Villana, should I get tested?”

“Yeah…”

“Are you protecting yourself?”

“I don’t know. I been drinking a lot,” you sniff and wipe your eyes with the palm of your hand, “I been drunk Dauhd, I don’t remember.”

“Lana…”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could stop, but…I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know—I—“

“How long you been drinking again?”

“Maybe six months…” your voice trails.

“Are you drunk now.”

You begin sobbing again. I tighten my hold on you. Your tears run down my skin and your shoulders heave.

“Just tell me. This is our life, right? Are you drunk?” I demand your gaze with my own, “Tell me, baby. I’m not mad. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m drunk, Dauhd. I’m always drunk. I’m so stressed! School is fucking killing me! Work is stringing me by the throat! I’m always drun—“

“Alright…alright. It’s okay. Okay? It’s okay. I love you. It’s okay.

I hold you and time passes as you weep in my arms. I close my eyes and listen to your breath. I rub your back and kiss the top of your head over and over.

Once your emotions start to slow I say, “Let me take you home so you can rest.”

“He’s there.”

“I know, but you need to sleep it off and take care of yourself. Okay…?”

“Okay.”

“May the winter come. Let it be cold and real.”

Fuck: IV

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“Are you uncomfortable?” You ask, sitting up.

I scoot towards the headboard and close my legs. “Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know…dysphoria I guess.”

You come sit beside me at the head of the bed. Silence passes us and I put my face in my hands, covering my eyes.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” I reply with a quick shake of my head.

You sigh and put your head on my shoulder.

“You never want to talk about it. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable during sex or any other time.”

“I know…it’s just. It’s not you. I love having sex with you and being with you. I just wish I could give you more.” I feel tears welling in my eyes and I blink them away.

“More what?” You turn to look at me.

We turn, our bodies to face eachother and you take my hands in yours.

“More what…?” you ask again.

“I don’t know, I wish I could be inside of you…with a penis…you know?”

“I get it. So is having sex with me too much for you?”

“Kind of. I just feel that I can’t really feel anything sometimes.”

“Anything like what?”

“The emotional stuff. I feel attracted to you I do. And it feels good when we have sex but it’s like I’m not there.”

“Is that why you always shut your eyes?”

“I guess. It’s confusing me, having to settle. Being trans. Being me. It’s confusing.”

“Well I’m not confused about you. You are just like any other man. No less. But I hear you and you have to tell me what you want because if this isn’t working for you…”

“No. It’s not that—“

“What is it?”

“It’s me. Okay? It’s me.”

“Well, I’m with you. It’s us. Just tell me how you feel.”

I look away from you and take a deep breath, contemplating my thoughts. I shake my head and fill my cheeks with air.

“I mean…I wish you were more engaged with me. But I feel a lot when you fuck me. And…I want to be able to pleasure you the way you pleasure me.”

“Don’t you feel like something is missing when I fuck you”, I ask, “don’t you wish you could feel more?”

“I don’t feel like a real man.”

“You are.”

“I know. But I don’t feel that.”

“What do you feel?”

“I don’t know. I just…are you fucking someone else?”

“What?”

“Just tell me the truth.”

“Yes. Sometimes. When you’re gone and…I need someone.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know I needed to.”

We stare into each other eyes. Crickets sing outside of the motel window.

“You don’t think I would want to know if someone is fucking you other than me?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Does he have a penis?”

“Stop.”

“Tell me.”

“Yes. So what? He’s not you.”

“What are you telling me?”

“I’m telling you that I love you.”

“…Love…?

I am in love with you.

But something tells me there is more under the surface of your discarding of me. I need you, now more than I ever have. Why? Because I am ready to love you actively and fully. Transparently and forreal, woman. Can you hear me? Can you feel me? I feel you. Or maybe I just feel myself, hoping a piece of me can float amongst the universe and reach you somehow. And…I know this happens to people. They do not get the lover or the romance, but I am in love with you.

I never felt this way before.

A feeling of being so close and so far away from you. I am having a hard time expressing this…mainly because I wish I could express this to you. Talk to you. Tell you everything, and nothing. Nothing at all cause you do not care. Seemingly.

That is all I know for sure.

I feel it. I hope you do too.

Family Ties

Family.

That word seems so foriegn and abundant. I must be grateful for the life flowing through my mother, father and grandmother because many cannot say their’s is still around.

Family: a strange word. For I am unfamiliar with the familiarity of the family’s flemsy feels toward the aroma of indifference that crowds me. They refuse to understand until I am laying dead in my coffin smiling at them reminding them of the time I just wanted to talk, show them my new book, or just be myself.