Jason Rimbaud

Edge of Heaven By: Jason R I awoke to the sound of rain Drumming on the roof of my red convertible A bottle of vodka ringing in my head And the blonde that gave me this nightmare Lying beside me on the seat My eyes focus on the bottle of pills Lying on the floor next to the accelerator Empty Much like the place where my heart used to be My mouth is dry My lips cracked and coated with some unknown substance Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand The memory of the previous night comes crashing back The sex was rough and sweaty Violence mixed with lust that could only be fulfilled By the emptying of ones own essence into a willing receptacle I awoke to the sound of rain Drumming on the roof of my red convertible The droplets rolling down the window Matching the tears falling down my cheeks A pack of cigarettes rests on the dashboard I grab one And draw the dark harsh smoke deep into my lungs Glancing over at the blonde sleeping on the seat beside me My eyes run over the contour of his lithe body Already the beginnings of several bruises Purple mixed with yellow against the pale skin of his back In his sleep he moves slightly I imagine him dreaming about the pleasures Pleasures I awoke inside him last night I awoke to the sound of rain Drumming on the roof of my red convertible The drumming matches the shallow heartbeat Of the blonde lying beside me I shove his legs off my lap And casually touch the end of my cigarette against his bare leg Gentle almost caressing Just the tip causing him to moan And curl up into a ball on the front seat beside me Images of us floats across my subconscious Images that he no doubt will remember for years to come Flexing my arms above my head I wince as pain shoots up my left arm Looking I see several deep scratches snaking up my arm Starting from my wrist and ending just above my armpit Another memento from an endless night I awoke to the sound of rain Drumming on the roof of my red convertible I awoke and remember everything

That's what I was talking about. Thanks for giving me the proper term. I feel like an ass yet again.I had forgotten the medical term. THat's what happens when you drink too much. Jason R.

Hey Cj, And welcome. I agree with you. The tips on these forums and the advice that is offered freely and dare I say, lovingly, is extremely helpful. Like you, I wish I would've found this site a few years ago when I began attempting this need I call writing. I'm sorry I haven't read your story but I will. You can't be as bad as I am. I know, it seems I sink to new depths each and every outing. Welcome, and am I correct in assuming I'm speaking to an goat? Because if thats the case, you have a grasp of the English language I strive to achieve. Jason R.

Current music selection: Ole' Blue Eyes Current state: Almost hammered (drinking a nice red wine) Current mood: Content So Daniel and I went out for some early cocktails at the local gay bar. I normally never drink so early in the day but I felt like having a drinkie poo. Plus I wanted to wear my new outfit Daniel bought me today. It's not everyday I feel good about my appearance but today I must say I was looking extra fabulous. Even my unruly hair did exactly what I wanted it to do without having to bribe it with tons of product. Thank god Daniel got pictures. (I wonder just how many pictures of me Daniel has. I have a problem with walking around the house half naked and he always has a camera near by) I love the old queen. And its not just because he buys me gifts either. I shudder to think of where I might be if he had not cum on the scene when he did. Off topic but I feel I should explain our relationship. We live together but only as friends. He's this wonderful man that has a heart big enough to love the whole world. At times, late at night, when the voices become to obnoxious to ignore, I crawl into bed with him and wrap his arms around me. No matter how "straight" I feel, he brings the peace I so desperately crave. We met two years ago, I was this strung out twink with one thing on my mind. Okay, make that two things. Sex and drugs. I'm not sure which I craved more. Anyway, I was tweeked out of my mind one night and so horny I was willing to fuck the bar stool I sat upon. It was late, almost closing and this tall geek walked into the bar with a smile that could charm the pope into experimenting for a night. He stands around six feet, slightly dumpy with thinning brown hair that he keeps cut close. His green eyes are intoxicating, sparkling with a zest for life I sometimes lose sight of. And the zesty dressing to this delicous entree, he wears glasses. Yum yum. He walks in, maybe twenty people were left, and sits down across the bar from me and orders a coke. Being the ass i am and somewhat over zealous, I begin to poke fun at his choice of beverages. I make fun of his explanation, he has to drive, whatever. I begin to chat him up a bit. My first intention, I must admit, was to flirt with the geek for some free drinkie poos. After all, the old queens are always good for at least three or four drinks. All you have to do is flirt, maybe a kiss or two and its like having a credit card sitting next to you. Looking at the clock, I knew i'd have to work fast. The bar closed in less than an hour. Plenty of time to work my magic. But the joke was on me. I found out I really liked him. He was smart, its not hard for me to feel stupid around others but I never felt as stupid as i did that first time we spoke. He had no game, it was like he propositioned everyone and figured quanity was better than quality. The odds are sooner or later someone will say yes. His sense of humor, his charm, his laugh, his eyes, everything about this man just screams "take me home and fuck me silly". He became my first ever "pity fuck". Don't go getting all upset over this term. I feel it's every twink's responsibility to give out "pity fucks" at least once a month. Because sooner or later we all become old and to keep karma moving forward, you get what you give so to speak. And from that moment on, Daniel and I have become almost brothers. With the one exception that we still have benefits from time to time. And incest is...disgusting...so we are almost brothers. For a man who has spent most of his life in the closet, he gives the best head. i've learned things from him that I use with my other lovers and they are blown away. (no pun intended) Besides, paying rent this way is more fun. I love you Daniel. I know you're reading this you old queen. I forget what the point of this post was going to be. But at least you know about Daniel and our relationship. Because I'm pretty sure someone asked me to explain it. So cheers for the night. Jason R.

Hopeful and yet sad at the same time. I really like this. Great job. Jason R.

Current music selection: Blue October from the album History for Sale Current state: Pretty Drunk Current mood: Yeah...right Daniel, my forty-two year old roommate, his friend Fredricko (excuse me if this name is misspelled I never got the chance to ask him the correct way) and I spent last Tuesday night out drinking and having a good time with several of our friends. From the moment I met Fredricko I was mesmerized. He's gorgeous to say the least. About five foot five, one hundred twenty pounds, amazing brown eyes. Though he hides them behind thick glasses. Just this delicious little nerd. He was celebrating a promotion so he was generously buying shots. Rounds and rounds of jager bombs. Jesus, he wouldn't stop buying and after a few hours we were all quite hammered. During the night, Fredricko and I had been flirting pretty heavily. Even going as far as making out by the pool table to the dismay of several straight men. It was a straight bar after all. So I'm not really surprised they threw peanuts at us. Thank god I'm not allergic. Anyway, after hitting more than a few bars, some straight some gay, we were really heating up. After we called a cab and made it back home, Daniel declares he's retiring for the night. Fredricko and I decide the celebration was just beginning if you get my drift. So we head back to my room to finish getting to know one another better. It's going great, clothing are flying around the room, my favorite shirt was ripped off my body and I lost a contact. It was hot and heavy. Once my underwear joined the pile of clothes on the floor I was in heaven. And for a while, life was perfect. But life nevers stays perfect. If I would have only known the consequences, I would have never stopped him from his...exploration of my situation...nor would have I thrown him on his back and ripped off his underwear. But I didn't know the consequences and I did just that. Even in the dim glow of the moon, I saw it. And I wasn't prepared. I'm three times seven, I've been around the block more than a few times. And I'm not talking about these small San Francisco blocks either, I'm saying those big New York City blocks. I've walked in on my Aunt and Uncle doing things I've only read about, scarred yes, but I dealt. I've woken up in the middle of the night with my younger brother sitting on my bed stark naked, his hands moving so fast I was sure a fire would erupt at any moment. After I finished puking I dealt. But there was nothing in my bag of experience that could have prepared me for the horror I saw between Fredricko's legs. I've heard about boys like him but I never thought I would encounter such weirdness in my lifetime. Let me tell you, I freaked out, lost my mind and did some kind of dance that still leaves my puzzled. I mean, Tom Cruise jumping around on couches was nothing compared to the level of freaked out I achieved. The thing that freaked me out. Let's just say when I delivered to my parents, the doctor had made some adjustments to me. Adjustments that Fredricko's doctor skipped. I don't know, maybe he didn't have insurance. Either way, I saw this...thing...it looked similiar to mine but had some extra stuff that freaked me out. And since I was drunk, let's say I could've handled it better. Okay, I jumped off the bed and pointed at it and said in a very quiet voice, "What the fuck is that?" I warned you, I didn't handle it well. I thought he was going to cry, the look on his face was a look I hope I never see again. He called me an asshole and gathered up his things and left the room before I could do anything like apologize or explain why I was so freaked out. THe next morning, a very pissed off Daniel greeted me at the breakfast table. Fredricko was no where to be found and I felt like an ass. After Daniel finished yelling at me, I explained what happened and wouldn't you know that bastard started laughing. That just pissed me off. It had really freaked me out. It didn't help matters that Daniel dropped his pants and showed his "situation" to me. After a close examination of his situation, I now know the difference between Fredricko and I. Though I'm a bit tired now after seeing Daniel's junk I do feel I'm better prepared next time that happens to me. And being somewhat of a whore, I'm sure its only a matter of time. So I guess what I'm trying to say, gentlemen, if you're in the same boat as Fredricko and some weirdo freaks out when he sees the extra attachment, don't get mad. Maybe let him have a moment to get used to this oddity. Anyway, cheers everyone. Jason R.

Hey Dude, You can't see it but I'm jumping. Thank you very much. Jason

Thanks for the advice Graeme. The story is thirty-nine pages total and around 20,000 words. Steven and Aaron, though dating for over a year, are still very much in the closet. Steven, the star swimmer, and Aaron, the popular soccer player, really need some time alone together. And after nearly being caught by the swim coach in the locker room, they decide to rush home to finish what they started. But as soon as they leave the school it seems the universe has other plans for them. One frustrating situation after another arises, thwarting them at every turn. Whether it's stranded friends, love sick cheerleaders, or mothers returning home early, their patience will be stretched beyond the breaking point. And before the sun rises, friendships will be cemented, secrets will be revealed and love will be tested This story is light hearted and somewhat humerous. But really needs an editor's touch. Thanks again. Jason

Dear Editors, I am looking for an editor to help me with a three part story. I have re-written the story several times and I can go no further without help. I'm not sure how I go about getting help so if anyone has ideas I would love to hear them. Thanks Jason

Hey Camy, Sorry about Geo Cities, the ads do suck. But I wanted to be sure I warranted a website before paying for a name. I am new at this posting online stuff and I didn't want to waste my money if no one would be interested in reading my stuff. I agree about the format of this piece. This is the third time I've re-written it and I still don't like it. Something is missing. Though for the life of me I can't figure out what. I'll keep trying. Maybe I'll try a different format again. Jason R.

Delving By: Jason R. I fall down into a pit a pit of my own making and design though I fall my eyes are wide and blind clarity is a concept I have never found so I grip to my fear like a fuck without a noun my soul is diseased stained gray and black if I was Dorian Gray more than lines would I lack and when I look into my future I only see me alone when I peer into my past I only see me alone when I reflect on the present I only see me alone yet I am happy for you are not in my world anymore If anyone is interested. My website has been redone. Lots a poetry and a few short stories. My Webpage

Hey Gabe, This piece has a whole bunch of things lurking under the surface. Who is this kid David and why is he turning tricks in the middle of nowhere? Why doesn't anyone care that this kid is turning tricks? WHat kind of mother lets her kid turn tricks? Sheesh, and this is just the first four pages. I like gritty and dirty stories where not everyone is standard black and white and things just might not be as they seem. I thought of so many directions this story could head into and can't wait to see the path you choose. Very entertaining, makes me want to read more just to find out why. Good job. Jason

Hey Camy, I'm not a person who usually writes negative things about other poets work. If i don't like a poem I just never read it again and move on. God knows I write some pretty aweful stuff. I'm not saying this poem is bad but something is lacking and I will try and explain what I mean. I love when poets take chances with taboo subject matter. If done properly they can be very powerful and make bold statements. But as I read this over and over, I find something is lacking. Like the narrators voice is too childlike, I find it hard to believe he's actually thinking about cutting. His words and actions are someone playing at being depressed. Like maybe he's heard about cutting from TV and is trying to harden his image or hang with the cool kids. For example: """ I hold the blade and we look at each other I know what I need, and it winks and agrees""" To me this sounds almost irreverent to a very real problem. """?The first time?s the worst? I mutter uncertain The blade it just sits there glinting with glee""" But I?m screaming inside ?this isn?t the way? Though unloved and hurting; cutting?s not what I need""""" I know a little about cutting and the depression that comsumes you until self abuse seems like a neccessity. I find this piece, though well written, to be somewhat contrived. Especially the moral ending. Unless the narrator has received therapy, those thoughts just do not enter the brain. I have read the other poems you've written and have enjoyed your tongue-n-cheek humor and view of the world. So you are not a bad poet and I'm not saying this is a bad poem. But this one doesn't work for me. I feel like an ass writing this but I wanted to try and explain my thought process and give you some honest feedback. Keep up the good work. I could be full of shit and usually I am. Cheers Jason

Hey TR, I have been trying to write an epic poem for years. I can never wrap my mind around a single idea and they always come off as contrived. Right now I'm fucking jealous. Not only did you weave this enormous story quite beautifully, the voice you channeled damn near broke my heart. The imagery and emotion gently sucked you in and the loss of love pushed you over the edge into the realm of beautiful diaster. The choice about leaving out names only fueled the piece as it let the reader immerse himself into the characters. Leaving out sex, probably the best descision you made. You'be shown every author/reader out in internet land that sex is only a tool not a standard. Sex can further a story but almost every time it bogs down the narrative. As which part I felt was the saddest or made me cry. I can't answer that question. This piece is the sum of its parts. From the opening to the ending, you slowly build until the cresendo. (Probably misspelled) Stylistically, this is probably the best poem on this site. Brilliant job Jason

PAIN INSIDE OF ME By: Jason R Everything is closing?closing in on me I embrace all things?sweet stupidity When I remember?I think of how it used to be Your face I see in dreams?in my mind I invoke the gods to strike?strike me blind But eluding all these curses?you I always find Once burning hot?the fire had finally died Standing each of us?across this great divide Never giving up on you?even though I?ve tried You dominate my dreams?even to this day Haunting me in my sleep?I never get to say Screaming out for eternity?I just can?t get away Smiling to your face?believing what you see As I lay and as I bleed?as I cry and as I need So you will never see?this pain inside of me

Hey TR, I actually thought it was funny. I am well known for butchering the English language as well as forgetting the rules. I am not an editor nor will I ever pretend to claim such a title. But then Graeme and Dude brought up good points as well. Which might be why some of the "joy" was missing as Graeme pointed out earlier. My own sense of my mother is not a joyful one but looked at in the context of "mother's lot" then it seems to be a better piece. Maybe I should leave the title alone. Reading this piece again, I wrote this piece almost clinically. Detached with zero emotion. Though it could have been worse, I could have written in anger like most of my pieces.

*checking my handbook carefully* *walking up to the microphone* *taps it* Check check. *clears throat* That wasn't funny TR.

Thanks Graeme. I've always had trouble writing about my relationship with my parents. Disfunction is probably the best way to describe it. This piece is what I believe a mother should be. But I don't know, I can only go by my own mother. Maybe that's why the "joy" is missing. Looking over it again, I think I should change the title. It really doesn't fit the piece. Thanks again. Jason

Speaking of Mother?s (or simply a dream) Jason R. For the most part it?s a thankless job A job without vacations No pay increase No time off for good behavior It doesn?t even include health insurance And we all know With the amount of torture Kids put they?re parents through Health insurance Would sure come in handy at times It?s long nights worrying about Situations you can never control Fighting against time itself In a never-ending battle to the grave It?s conversations about possible futures And the ever-present what-if scenarios It?s sweat, blood, and loads of dirty diapers And that?s just until puberty hits It?s embarrassment at being seen in public It?s being shut out When all you really desire is to be let in It?s having to let something go That you?ve held onto tighter than life itself It?s realizing that you really never had control It?s sadness It?s heartbreak It?s tears And it?s forever It?s about the joy you feel When a child takes that first step It?s about hiding baby teeth underneath pillows It?s about looking in late at night Watching the life you?ve created sleeping It?s about forgetting what kinds of hell That child put you through that day It?s about seeing the angel underneath the dirt It?s about empty vessels Day by day being filled up With the tools and knowledge To face the struggles ahead It?s about fighting time itself For just one minute with those you love It?s conversations about possible futures And the right steps to take in them It?s a million what-if scenarios As you watch that child grow and learn It?s joy, laughter, and loads of dirty diapers And that?s just until puberty hits It?s watching that young adult Face choices and making the right decision It?s satisfaction at realizing That not only did you do something right You did it better than anyone else in the world It?s realizing that you never did have any control Over anything And that?s okay It?s happiness It?s togetherness It?s heartwarming It?s laughter And it?s forever

Hey Gabe, Great piece. As I read it, it almost seemed tongue and cheek. Great opening, just another suicide wasn't trying to fly took a foot off the bridge and took a dip through the sky Jason

Hey everyone, Thanks for giving me some constructive advice. Since everyone picked up on it right away, let me say that my lack of white spaces and poor format was a copy and paste problem. I swear, when I was writing it, it was formatted properly. #-o Graeme, Reading this back, on my saved version so it was easy on the eyes, I saw right away how disjointed this piece looked on paper. I've had this problem since I began writing a few hundred years ago. My first stories had almost all dialogue and no descriptive narration. After reading millions of books I am trying to find a balance between the two. It didn't help that I was trying to marry two different pieces written over two years apart. Another reason why they seemed to be different styles. Opps, got caught being a lazy writer. Good call though. :-p As the proper use of blond or blonde. I never knew there was a difference. I have always liked blonde on paper better than blond. I used this on preference alone. And if I used brunette instead of brunet, that was an error. I never edit my work until after the forth or sixth re-write. Thanks again for your thoughts. I have a completed story I am debating on submitting to Awesome Dude sometime in the future. Have a great weekend everyone. Jason

I'm not sure how long a sample is either. So I put up a few pages. Let me know what you think. But be kind, I'm fragile. Though I do taste better with Ketchup, at least Gabe believes. Thanks Jason Untitled By: Jason Rimbaud ?Have you ever been blown away? Truly and perfectly blown away.? Jesse Stevens asked in a quiet voice while tucking his long brown hair behind his ears. Greg Taylor studied his friend for a moment, swirling the dark liquid in his cup, trying to puzzle out the motivation behind such a question. As usual, Jesse was being his mysterious self, an enigma wrapped around a riddle. The two years they had been friends, he had yet figured out the inner workings of the brunet?s mind or the logic that seemed to drive it. At least on the surface, the six-foot tall brunet was easy going, always quick to laugh or pull a prank. And yet, there were times when something dark and disturbing in those blues eyes would scare him. It did not help that Jesse had a keen intellect. A methodical mind that saw through lies humanity projects on a daily basis. Yet despite this logic, he tended towards the melancholy, a dark jumble of emotions that pushed others away. As he looked at his friend, he saw something new in Jesse?s eyes. Something he had never seen before. A pensive stare, somewhat akin to sadness. Shaking his head, Greg asked, ?Blown away how?? Reaching for his cigarettes, Jesse stuck one end in his mouth and lit the tip. Drawing the blue black smoke deep into his lungs, he said, ?I mean blow away. A feeling so intense it rips you up and draws you away like a rushing river. Lost, out of control. Helpless.? Waving the smoke from his face, Greg asked, his green eyes filled with confusion, ?You mean like falling in love?? ?No.? Jesse blurted, shaking his head. ?More powerful that that.? ?What?s more powerful than love?? Greg asked. Giving Jesse a confused frown. Ignoring Greg?s question, Jesse spat, ?Have you?? ?Can?t say I have.? Greg said, shrugging before refilling his cup with the last of the coffee. More out of nervousness than any real desire for more of the bitter liquid. The last thing he wanted to talk about with Jesse was love. ?Not even with Melissa?? Jesse asked, his eyes intent. Greg ran his fingers through his blonde curls and sighed. Okay, maybe talking about love with Jesse wasn?t the last thing he wanted to do. Talking about his ex-girlfriend though fit that picture. He said, ?That?s different.? ?You dated her for three years and never felt like you were blown away?? Jesse asked in disbelief. ?She was sexy, intelligent. Had a killer ass with nice tits and she adored you.? He paused, then added, ?Though I never quite understood that part.? ?Ass.? ?Anyway, to top it off, she let you do whatever you wanted to. She was the perfect girlfriend.? ?That? true.? Greg agreed, shaking his head. ?So what happened?? ?I got bored.? ?You got bored.? Jesse laughed. ?That?s the whole story. You got bored.? ?Pretty much.? ?And all this time I thought there had to be a more exciting reason. Like she maybe bit your dick off or something.? Jesse said through his laughter. ?I guess that means I answered your question now didn?t I?? Greg stated in a quiet voice. Jesse knew his friend long enough to know that ended that particular subject. Picking up on Greg?s mood, he asked, ?Do you know the true thrill of life? Not that simplistic feeling you get while riding a roller coaster. Or from driving too fast on the wrong side of the road. I mean the true thrill of life?? ?Nope. But I bet you?re about to enlightened me.? Came the sarcastic reply. Jesse stared at him for a few moments, his gaze intent, before saying, ?It?s not something you can explain. It?s something you have to experience for yourself.? ?You?re hurting my head again Jesse.? Greg complained, moving around in the lumpy seat trying to find a more comfortable position. ?Imagine how my head feels.? He replied, giving the blonde a mysterious grin. Snubbing out his cigarette even as he reached for another one, he said, ?So last night was weird.? Greg had grown accustom to Jesse?s ramblings. He seldom stayed on the same subject for any length of time. Pushing his coffee cup to the edge of the table, he asked, ?Why?? ?I was online chatting with this chick from California.? ?And that?s weird how?? Greg asked, stifling a yawn. Stretching out his long legs across the booth, Jesse rested his back against the wall. Toying with his pack of cigarettes, he explained, ?She?s a freshman at Berkley.? ?And.? ?We somehow got on the subject of religion.? ?Really.? Greg stated, leaning forward in his seat and resting his elbows on the table. For the most part, Jesse was an open-minded individual. Believing in one?s right to live by whatever rules your conscience dictates. He was tolerant of all races and believed everyone was created equal. But his views on religion were somewhat skewed. ?I bet that was a fun conversation.? ?This chick, her name was Ann, grew up in a strict Catholic home. Her parents along with her entire family are extremely devout. And you know they?re thoughts about birth control, you can only imagine how big her family really is.? Chuckling, Greg asked, ?Was she trying to convert you?? ?No. Quite the opposite really.? Jesse said, tucking his long hair behind his ears. ?Her religious views were ones I?ve never heard before.? ?What do you mean?? ?Okay.? Jesse said, righting himself in the booth. ?Get this. She was obsessed with Christ. I mean really obsessed. Fatal attraction obsessed.? ?Twisted. Go on.? Greg urged. ?Like she wanted to fuck Christ.? Jesse stated before taking a deep drag on his cigarette. ?Come on. You can?t be serious.? Greg said, the look on his face showing his disbelief. ?I swear.? Jesse chuckled. ?She got really turned on by the whole crucifixion thing. She kept going on and on about the bondage of humiliation and how the thought of blood streaming into his eyes and the pounding of the hammer. Like the throbbing drone of ecstasy.? ?I was right, twisted.? ?You?re telling me.? Jesse said, a disgusted frown on his face. ?She said she slept with a crucifix so she could be one with her lord.? ?I was only partly right, twisted bitch.? ?Get this, she says Christ acts like a virgin, speaks like a prayer, but fucks like a fist.? ?Kind of makes you wonder what she?s doing with that crucifix at night.? Greg stated with a shudder. ?But that wasn?t the weird part.? Jesse stated, pausing for effect. ?The weird part was when she asked me to cyber.? ?Are you kidding me?? Greg asked in total shock. ?I couldn?t make this shit up.? Jesse declared. ?She called masturbation a divine act that would intimately bring us closer to God.? ?Please tell me you didn?t.? Greg pleaded. ?Don?t be a jackass.? Jesse spat. ?Of course I didn?t. You know my thoughts on masturbation.? ?A stance I don?t believe.? Greg stated, grinning. ?You don?t believe I don?t?? Jesse asked, moving his hand back and forth, his fingers forming a circle. ?Masturbate.? Greg finished his sentence. ?No I don?t believe you.? ?Well I don?t.? Jesse stated. ?How old are you?? Greg asked. ?Seventeen.? ?And you want me to believe that a healthy seventeen-year-old boy doesn?t stroke it every chance he gets.? ?That?s right. Just because you have a rag of dreams under your bed don?t mean I have one under mine.? Jesse stated as he smashed his cigarette in the ashtray. ?I don?t have a rag of dreams under my bed thank you very much.? Greg replied, his cheeks turning red. ?I jerk off in the shower.? ?Remind me never to shower at your house again.? Jesse said, making a face. ?Where I jerk off is none of your business.? Greg stated, louder than he intended in his embarrassment. Realizing the couple in the next booth had turned and looked at him, his face turned a deeper shade of red. Jesse laughed, saying, ?Be that as it may, I don?t do it anywhere. Including showers.? ?Then you?re a freak.? Greg stated in a much lower voice. ?Why am I a freak?? Jesse asked, leaning forward. ?Because. You can?t tell me you?ve never masturbated before.? ?I never said I hadn?t masturbated before.? Jesse said through laughter. ?I said I don?t anymore.? Throwing his hands up, Greg declared, ?I give up.? ?Why are you so worried about it anyway?? Jesse asked, his eyes narrowing. ?Worried about what?? Matt Garrison asked, plopping down beside Greg. ?Jesus Christ Matt.? Greg said as he jumped in his seat, bashing his knees into the table. Jesse started laughing. ?You scared the shit out of me.? Matt looked at Greg then over at Jesse then back to Greg. He asked, ?What?s so funny?? Greg stammered, trying to find something to say. Giving up, he squeaked out a curse, ?Fuck.? All the while rubbing his knee. ?Well.? Jesse began, grinning. ?Our red faced friend over there seems to be preoccupied with masturbation.? ?What?s the big deal.? Matt said. ?I just tossed one off before I came over here.? Greg and Jesse looked at each other, mirrored looks on their faces. ?What?? Matt asked. ?You?ve gotta release the tension somehow.? ?Can I get you boys anything?? Looking up at Rachel, Greg wondered how much of the conversation the waitress had heard. Realizing it would be better if he never found out, he managed a smile and said, ?I don?t think so.? ?Speak for yourself Curly.? Matt said. ?I?d like a cup of coffee and a western omelet with home fries and sausage." ?How ?bout you boys?? Rachel asked as she picked up the empty coffee warmer. ?I could use another cup of coffee.? Jesse said, flashing a smile at the older lady. ?Your coffee always tastes better than anyone else?s.? Rachel, now accustom to Jesse?s flirtatious nature, patted him on the cheek and said, ?For you sugar, I?ll even brew a fresh pot.? ?Thank you darling.? Jesse said, grinning. ?And do you think you can give us some real cream instead of this powered stuff?? ?Anything for you.? She promised, giving the brunet a wink. Matt asked, a frown crossing his round face, ?Why do you always do that?? ?Do what?? Jesse asked, feigning innocence. ?Flirt with everyone.? Jesse?s eyes seem to twinkle though he replied with a straight face, ?You gotta release the tension somehow.? ?Now that?s sick.? Matt stated, grabbing the pack of cigarettes from the table. ?She?s old enough to be your mother.? As the argument went back and forth, Greg let his mind wander. It was no wonder his thoughts drifted to the night he broke it off with Melissa. That was the night everything changed inside him. The night he had admitted he was gay for the first time. Glancing over at Jesse, he wondered if the longhaired boy had that same sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. The feeling that had been burning inside him from the first time he had laid eyes on the brunet. At first, it was a natural curiosity. Jesse was the new kid in a rather small town where most of the children had grown up together since pre-school. He looked different, dressed different and acted different. But then long after curiosity should have waned, he would find himself making excuses just to be near him. During school, he always made sure Jesse sat in front of him. After classes, he would position himself during lunch so he could study the boy from afar without fear of discovery. Keeping the brunet in sight without never really speaking to him. And then Matt begun bringing Jesse around. He tried to keep his distance but somehow, Jesse always seemed to be around. He began having trouble convincing himself it was only friendship he felt. Then the idea of Jesse started creeping into his mind at the oddest moments. While watching TV he would startle himself, realizing he was wondering what Jesse was doing. Or during his evening meals, Jesse would be there in the back of his head. It had gotten so bad he began ignoring the brunet all together. But the more he tried to ignore the boy the more he thought about him. He even caught himself comparing Jesse to Melissa. Going as far as making a mental list of pro?s and con?s one day during English class. And then it happened. He was having sex with Melissa one afternoon and during the middle of it, he realized the body he was lusting for was not the one beneath him. He found himself picturing Jesse naked, what he looked like, how his skin would feel, how his lips would taste. All these things were racing through his mind as he came. The orgasm was the strongest of his life and in that instant he knew the truth. Lying there, still inside her, his body shaking from his release, he knew. He accepted the love he felt for his friend. The very next day he broke it off with Melissa and vowed to find out everything there was to know about the enigma named Jesse. Copyright©2006 Chaotic Life

A long time ago, I wrote this poem after reading Ann Rice vampire books. I believe that she used the phrase age of innocence. What I'm asking, is this piece original or have I abused someone else's work? Age Of Innocence This is my Age of Innocence You the children of inconvenience Now that my demons are finally invisible All those fears in your head become material You speak out against that which you don?t know Condemning me when I stand against the flow You ask, ?What is this life all about?? I reply, ?It?s not a game but it might be a rout.? I charge that you take pleasure from senseless killing While I take mine from simplistic giving I do not speak with a forked tongue This is truth I?ll shout till the war I?ve won Money is your god and he?s feeble and weak No matter how quiet you are he?ll never speak You, the human race caught up in useless lives My eyes are opened and I see through your lies You claim I am twisted and inherently evil But claiming truth from a divinity is more than feeble Your institution is crumbling and almost done Look to love and blue skies for the sun You paint me in dark reds like I am a devil Forgoing your ideas only makes me a rebel If you would like to understand what you see Delve into my mind you will find the real me I am the total evil which there is no defense Because it?s my Age and it?s my Innocence Written sometime in 1996

Des: I likes. I really likes this one. I love it when a writer begins in an all to predictable way, so much that I skimmed over the narrative the first time around, then in the last moment pulls out something original that leaves me with a shocked look on my face. I had to read it a second time...then a third. The author conveyed such hopelessness and selflessness. "My love will live and die in silence" Brilliant. Great job. The ending...perfect. Jason

I found Awesome Dude a few weeks ago and after reading more than a few of the stories, I found the forum section. Even more than the stories I have enjoyed the variety of topics and all the information the crew at Awesome Dude has made public. I have no formal schooling behind my name nor did I finish High School. And over the years I have slowly learned from my past mistakes and realized what I should or should not do in regards to how to construct a good story. But I have so much to learn. In the forum I have found so many answers to some of the questions I have as well as advice that I am already putting to use. After reading so many of the topics and threads, I am grateful for all those writers, editors that offer advice and knowledge in such a laid back and relaxed atmosphere. So from a beginning writer who has a renewed energy for writing, I say thank you and I hope you continue this informative site that can only help those such as myself. Jason