zephyr
The guilty undertaker sighs
The lonesome organ grinder cries
The lonesome organ grinder cries
"He said he was a memory. I didn' see any gods." Had Ray been just that: a masquerading god? A black sheet pretending to be your son? Gods, if that was- if it was all a lie---
Nope. Nope nope nope, not going down that path.
Let's go somewhere far more pleasant: Red and his tendency to bite you and give you a very confusing boner. Way safer. Good call. And hey, look at that, he only bites you now. Realizing you've wound up in very murky waters, you say absolutely nothing in response. Instead you open one eye curiously, looking sidelong at the man across the couch. "Hmm," you murmur, hoping desperately the topic will die there.
It does not. It's an unlucky season, after all.
You suck a slow breath in through your teeth, eyes up on the ceiling. It's really not a great day for this conversation, and you can think of many things you would rather be doing. Walk on hot coals. Hug a shark. Spend a season on a fucking boat. Letting your eyes fall closed again, you exhale that deep breath. "Would it be, Red? Jus' a kiss? Jus' a fuck an' nothin' else? Ya jus' told me ya can' do that." Intimate, he said and it's not what you want.
Or maybe it is. Another set of blue eyes flashes through your mind, another smile, another pale hand. Maybe you are ready for intimacy.
Only... not with him.
Nope. Nope nope nope, not going down that path.
Let's go somewhere far more pleasant: Red and his tendency to bite you and give you a very confusing boner. Way safer. Good call. And hey, look at that, he only bites you now. Realizing you've wound up in very murky waters, you say absolutely nothing in response. Instead you open one eye curiously, looking sidelong at the man across the couch. "Hmm," you murmur, hoping desperately the topic will die there.
It does not. It's an unlucky season, after all.
You suck a slow breath in through your teeth, eyes up on the ceiling. It's really not a great day for this conversation, and you can think of many things you would rather be doing. Walk on hot coals. Hug a shark. Spend a season on a fucking boat. Letting your eyes fall closed again, you exhale that deep breath. "Would it be, Red? Jus' a kiss? Jus' a fuck an' nothin' else? Ya jus' told me ya can' do that." Intimate, he said and it's not what you want.
Or maybe it is. Another set of blue eyes flashes through your mind, another smile, another pale hand. Maybe you are ready for intimacy.
Only... not with him.
The silver saxophones say I should refuse you
But it's not that way, I wasn't born to lose you
But it's not that way, I wasn't born to lose you
