Date: Thu, 04 Jan 2007 12:31:20 +0000 From: Timothy Stillman Subject: g/m college "T Was a Bopper--A Real Show Stopper" (other of my stories can be found here in the extremely prolific authors section; my new website is novemberhourglass.tripod.com--any feedback, no flames, please, is very much appreciated) T Was a Bopper-A Real Show Stopper By Timothy Stillman A real show stopper, me, and what a rattyworld, but ace was there for me together with Sin and Trinity and we got to getting some prayer life on, for here is the adorable me, with out adolescent pimples finally at long last. Rotting world needing bling bling me and search lights finding where the principals go when they get overly head time with me all the ways with daisy chains, come here little one and make me grow. Out of the billows of fog in train night m/men come to charity ball me to one other extreme or another field of horses in the feel good night. Poppers to make it feel better and me to up a yard of ace high and me high and Trinity there sucking away, as though there were snakes on my own damned airplane. Seasons in me and rounding bends where space cannot tack itself to the stars up above, there in the heat of winter come and gone too soon, in addition of cotton feeling nerve endings bling bling I carry my own gold with me in the gold in my teeth and the rings in my nips and the rings in my balls that hung low sweet chariot and my hands turning welts into seasons that were never meant to be before, all that saltz and all that movie world where the screen becomes super porous and there is nothing but the sweet smell of giving in and I never thought I would do that before, little me with the moniker of dignity all over my hands as they sweep the darkness away to make a brand new day and if I wanted to do this for ka-ching ka-ching I definitely could and that would make me the richest little whore mamma in the whole world which exists in my pocket so I can Willy Wonka it out and take my time with it, testing the dials and the dials run the Tv shows I used to dream of seeing, and saw in the silence of my head up here. Dance with me babes and get the KY ready and warm for I was choo-chooing in to town after the cold snap of winter and I need a popper and I needed that train long to be over, all those hours of travel without a mate beside me to tell my troubles to. All saltz and all rings of wine and tequila based. This in the form of a statute and this in the holy hole I once was in all judgmental and such and here now naked with my m'men and we are having fratuious fun and feebs don't get it and never will. This of my ratty room and my ratty less mates now that wonder is back in town. Feeling fine and floaty fleeing all the old moates that got me down to the oats that served tables of plain brown tasteless bread. This ring of things round my ringading is all the bells they will have to listen to again and m/men and Trinity makes us thee, as the blessings go up me and it is a torch of liberty. This manic throb. This manic sob and the cries are real and the tickles are realer. This me and what could come without the urethra to teach them a thing or two. To get so down and round into party time that it would come with a climb up whoops no bad dude just had to kill the last of that roach. All spiffle and dinette table which is me and doling out myself as though I am a field of terrible scarecrow bronze ages of the past that all the nubiles want to offer themselves to as something of evil and something of good. Something of Joseph and Mary if they could. And now my back's against the bed as the hands coalesce into something of brown black beetles huge and marrowing and wanting my fame there deep in the heart of me. There deep in the parts of me that get tugged on as I feel electric alive. As I feel more than store bought. All has been worth it and the warm pads of hands and the warmer pads of feet, all there to the me of the dine and the ace as he pushes Trinity off as Sin gets into him as the blues plays gluze in my head and I feel stuck together, ready to go off onto a million tangents, ready to cry me a river of torrent terror gold in this room that smells of sex and high life and low junk and nothing could be better than another popper cracked under my nose, with some coke left on the table, but me the highes high there has ever been. As we sex weave and sex spin and its all up to the doxologies to name the place where we have ever been. Out there into the front of the black night train night as they worshipped me by cell these last two weeks, as they dreamed of my ass in their hands and held and molded it above their simpy little beds, waiting for the time for me to return, and the me returned is the world shot high pitch in the sky as the sun of midnight comes to reckon them away with their own little gimp shots and there own little muffled men while mine straight, so to speak, and true, there for the fun rubber, and we are boinging and spoke wheels as sexuality comes round the table top bend like a Lionel train choo choo and its all with the wizardry of me and my many faces. Watch the grin. Watch them grin back at me. Wiggle the crotch. Watch them wiggle their back at me. Watch me grip. See and feel them grip me and each other. And know the seasons of the day of the monkey brigade. For I am their mirror and their legs are mine. Their eyes will see what my eyes tell them to see for the rest of our lives. And the room smells of linseed oil and polish and smells of old socks still and all and we are making with the rancid in the returned heat to the returned lying winter January, all sweating, the month included, all there with the wrap around toys as we have discovered we boys are in college for the toys and the toys are us studying and studding, Harrad has nothing on us, this in the moment and this in the head floating and them missile like throwing at the ceiling and the pain the pain the bells the bells the bells. And the pain is blow torch and Sin grins as Sin walks in the best way he can walk in at all, and we're about to toss, we've done too much and drunk too much, and the room light is slight and fading yellow and the room walls are dusty dingy peeling wall paper brown, and the floor is green linoleum and there is nothing more bound than the boundaries we have come to take into our gnomed hearts. Our little bings and bangs and on my knees and on his too please, as we make tableau of train porting into station. And this was the wild elation, that made all the other mes in mirrors my rents sees like some other person, who stayed away all day and wept into his hand like a carnal crime kid with the world on the offensive and now its on by damn the defensive. And me and m'men naked as Js and speaking of Js roll me another dream scheme. Write me the o. room right here please and what are you doing to me you callous Sin? What is the mood you are in my friend, with big as the Chunnel now don't you think? And that make Sin grin all over his body and he pushes me like a chariot in a race, we'll beat you yet Ben Hur, by grace. Sin is hairy while ace is harrier, me I'm the young looking one of the bunch, as when the flowers could look at me deflowered over and again, this thin shuttle and where its been, tills the tilt of love in my direction, tills the tilt of love with deepest affection, as though my ass is astro turf and there is nothing more to single out that my private benediction, there and me here and not a voice on a cell from a crib bed some where, opening Christmas Day like a diseased brain of idiocy and strait jacket mentality, while here in the sick and wheezing flicker of the light bulb on the early dark morning of my coming home to my room and my dreams and my schemes and here the boys are having me and I'm having them and their eyes are wide and white. Their mouths breathe beer out and take me in, as the suction brigade comes to the rescue of the fair maiden who is stuck in the top floor not having a ladder to climb down, while the house she, that's me, is in is burning all round, as she, that's me, screams Help me Oh won't some lovely fireman help me please, so ace and Sin can't wait to get in and toss a ladder for her to climb down and the night is the town and the town is when Sin doubles up hard and presses his stomach down to my back and saves me from the fire by making a fire torch the Statue of L. has never contemplated, throw in the Ten Commandments too, and I have never been so fulfilled in my life and never so filled the real bling bling as ace torments me too and rubs my head of hair and sighs moaning with his hands on his hips and his eyes closed and standing there like a Greek Statue with only minimal movements, his face in some kind of noble profile, like he's the star of this piece but he's got the deed, I've got the need for his seed; so we'll keep him around till we find someone to replace him, something borrowed and something new and something never ever blue^Å.. ^Å.and deep in the night the gay boys play, thinking this is it that the ultimate world orgasm is on its way, but someones heard something and someone going to try to take it to even the skin breaking through of ultimate and that is the reason why ace and Sin figured it all out a long time ago, just not telling me cause on the nod I'd throw every ounce of caution to the wind, and every day I will see the sutures in my behind and think of the days back when the parties stopped, back when the wall came to meet me and there was no popper or chaser or coke or roach to stop it, to stop the deeds that tore the night apart with my mammas nightie in my mind as she knelt down to me and said poor boy poor stupid little boy, as the hospital memories wash over me, as seeds spilled blood recoiled and blood scream as nothing in the world of war all aclimbed to this height making me not five nine but six four it seemed then. The laughter at me like a charnel house as I charcoiled into a world of collapsing boxes cardboard, one right after the other and charcoal and nothing left of me but my ass and nothing left of me but my hollow Halloween pain and the screams of STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT making it go faster tearing me with ace and then Sin's rings, and the tearing and the faultless as my buds got down with this way of teaching me how they would tear up the town which was me of course but on another black horse, with white satin eyes and blows and their trying to be me, which was not the case at all, this was their final crime with me at least, me with my cell and my rockin' good elves, me with the bling bling and the ipod that was even now music playing as they did it to me again and again, just a little love tap from the gay community god bless every fuckin' one of them, and I was bloody and not bold mercifully passed out as I was pulled back to consciousness with ace or Sin or some damned thing with his slong waving back and forth, as he put a shiv to my neck as he held my head up high by the sweaty now bloody hair on my head, "You tell anyone who did it, you die." And off went me to sleep land again and it seemed I was gutted. Off went my m/ men and I was left to scream in my dream, and then scream in my cream and my blood offal on the bed rickety and broken; the memory sickness of their hurdy gurdy seeming made up faces with tons of cream and lipstick and their big rubbery spidery shiny mouths and their huge white insane eyes with no pupils in them, all out of focus all out of proportion just drifting around shape shifter amoebas instead of humans. Till I made it that pain in every cell of me sunrise to the bloody cell to ask for bloody help for my bloody body and my bloody soul, catch me, hold me, stay away from me, who do I trust?, me, hell no, anybody else, heller no, and me heller and seep heaping in the hospital room with the hidden but not quite hidden enuf laugther from the docs and the nurses and my dad and my mom and an old friend I had toileted last Christmas on the cell for the final and last time were sitting in chairs round my bed and they had these oh so concerned crying faces on, we are here to help you, yeah right you self righteous mothers, to help me be namby pamby yet again, well it won't work, I've learned all right, and the learing takes a hard left peers and fritters so when you go to the next movie of me, except me to not have seen the errors of my ways and you may pontificate, just wait oh ye believers in sling loaded love, as you watch me take the victim as I take off my glove, and double my fist for the first reverie--- Oh yes, I have learned, just how to be the real me.