Your hour is their future. Your time is our pleasure. Selling an abstraction of the real world to losers of love, losers of fortunes, the down, out and rejected, the pirates take hostages out into the sunlight. Leading the procession of prisoners out into the warm sea air, a huge man snapped a whip along their ankles to inspire faster walking and climbing to the upper decks. You could have loved me and made this adventure so much easier on the both of us, but no, you decided that you needed me to stalk you, lurk in your bushes and stare into your thoughts. You made me want you.
"What is up, ladies, my name is Jason, and I am 19-years-old. I am looking for a real hottie with big tits and a nice ass."
"This is Monique, and I am 21-years-old and I am just looking for a fine guy to talk to, maybe get me off on the phone."
The one sense that is particularly not emphasized in the world of telecommunications is sight. Without vision, we are forced to equate sounds with physical characteristics.
"Don't panic! You are not always just about to die."
"Thank you! I needed that. Life was starting to feel way too serious to me.
Last night I dreamt that my entire library was dismantled and that the powers that be put a big wall in the middle of it and took the better half of the room and gave it to somebody else. My response was to go mad. Immediately and without hesitation, I proceeded on a journey to the super fancy hotel in town, got naked, got drunk on tequila, decided I could fly out the window and it worked. Life looks fantastic from the sky. I hope you wrote that in your test, then I'll know somebody that thinks about things more than I do."
"Big Sister scares Me,
Stop Looking in my Window!
Turn off the lights now," she said, suddenly speaking in Shamerican Haiku.
The castle stands out amidst the fog, standing above the treeline, ominous in its enormity. Whispers were making their way into our dreams and we could not cover ourselves in enough kisses and lies to make the secret language stop playing like a radio narration of our night thoughts and our mental confessions. There is a vibrating dildo sticking out of the top of that flower. A bunch of penguins in top hats are making pasta in the kitchen while a semi-clothed maid makes the bed in the guestroom. It is cold and dark in the back recesses of the authors mind.
"As much as I can, as often as I can."
"You dont know what you are missing."
Sliding back into the Real World after spending four days in his bed or at his desk, the author reconstructs himself into the image of another character in the drama. It is quiet and comfortable in the back halls of his mind. There is a sadness that refuses to leave his heart. We have lost our way.
"The crack house is a carnival of vice. It is one hell of a nasty place where the kingrats and the pay master rule, where the gut buckets give slow necks for a penny, and where the freaks, rock monsters, and blood suckers will do anything for a hit on the stem."
"Youre not gonna believe this, but its the gods honest truth. I swear it. Durin the last three years, every day, year in an out, I sexed thirty to forty guys a day, most of it brains. I bet Ive given head thirty thousand times easy. I figured it out once, thats about three miles of cock that I swallowed," says the 22-year-old Miami house girl.
"Young butts that need to get spanked, get back to me." Under the neon lights of the strip, even the Sadists could find a place to sleep for a price.
"I am a slave, looking for a master. I like to suck cock, fuck ass, be fucked, drink piss, eat out jockstraps, anything you want." Even the masochists could find a place to slave for a price.
© Razee Ink 2000-2009