Writing Exercise – Temptation

Greg found his cousin amusing. Karissa had shown up early in the day to visit their grandmother. Greg was currently living in their grandmothers basement biding his time through life, however, currently trying to clean it up. Well, as much as he could while working in an adult superstore.
Karissa’s quirky attitude, and cynical sense of humor was interesting. She definitely had become different than the girl he remembered. Although, he didn’t know how he felt about her current choice of fashion. Was she supposed to be some kind of hippie?
The way she dressed aside, her presence tonight screwed with his head. The first thing he had noticed was how her figure had blossomed since she had finally grown up. There was nothing left of that awkward kid he once knew. Having a baby had gently spread her hips and nicely bulged her breasts.
He shook his head, attempting to rub the sudden image of her from his eyes.
They’d all gone to bed hours ago. After watching a movie, he hadn’t been able to sleep. Currently, his caffeine addiction had him drinking energy drinks like water. It didn’t help that he hadn’t had sex in ages, and here was the perfect opportunity to indulge and relieve his aching body. Or was it so perfect?
There were too many variables. First, their grandmother was sleeping in the next room from her. Second, her infant son was probably snuggled up in her arms sleeping next to her.
If he was going to do anything, it was roll over and go to sleep.
You could always just rape her.
“Where the hell did that come from?” He asked himself, his eyes popping open.
Think about it. You know she wouldn’t consent, that’s crazy.
She was sleeping right above his room, tucked into a large, beautiful bed. Probably sleeping softly and sweetly. A gentle inhale. A gentle exhale. A gentle inhale. A gentle-
“STOP IT!” he internally screamed to his brain.
Sitting up in bed, throwing his legs over the side, he felt that familiar, aching urge for a cigarette. Giving up every negative stimulant in his life was hard enough, and his body did starve desperately for a woman. Choosing between the two in this instance, the cigarette sounded better.
“God, cleanse these disgusting thoughts.” He prayed. “I want to give this habit up.”
You’re disgusting. Look at you, what would God want with you anyway? You make money selling people porn, and indulgences in sick fantasies. You give people the opportunity to cheat on their spouses. You give people the opportunity to hurt and bruise and bleed. You give them the chance to pursue their darkest dreams. You can’t even quit smoking long enough for God to save you.
Greg accepted those thoughts, gnawing his teeth. “I just need a cigarette. That’s it. Just one.”
Giving up smoking was the hardest thing he had ever struggled with. Sure, porn and sexuality were battles every man fought, right? Smoking, however, was a crutch. Soothing. Relaxing. Suffocating. Sex you could have once and relieve the body for a moment. Cigarettes gave, and gave, and gave.
Just go up the stairs.
“No.”
Go.
“Stop it.”
You. Need. This. She won’t press charges. You’re family. She won’t tell anyone, nobody would believe her anyway.
Balling his fists, Greg got up to pace around the room. His own dark fantasies swirled through his mind like poison. It made him feel dirty, thinking about Karissa that way. She was his kid cousin, he remembered holding her as a baby. And here she was, married with a little one of her own.
It wasn’t the sex he wanted so much right now, as it was the cigarette he was trying to be free from. “Just one. I just want one.”
The hours crept down out of the night, and Greg won the battle against raping Karissa.
The next two days he avoided her like the plague. The fact that his mind had so thoroughly explored her made it awkward for him to be around her. He didn’t even want to see her after that. At least, not for some time.
Memories of that night plagued him for the next several days, and the urge for a cigarette never went away.
On Friday, once his paycheck hit, he stopped at the first convenient store and swiped his card without a second thought.
In the protection of his little car, with nobody around to hear his thoughts, he opened up the box, put the roll between his lips, shakily lit the end of it, and lost all of the ground he tried so desperately to cover in the next inhale of pure, sweet, nicotine.

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Promise of Affliction

Don’t speak.

Words hurt.

Don’t try to pursue the chaos.

It’s poisonous.

I’m cyanide.

I will only shatter you to pieces.

Don’t come too close.

I’m far too gone to save.

What kind of life do I promise?

What kind of joy could I bring?

The madness spins and spins.

Straw is turning to ash.

How can a broken heart produce gold?

Pretend with me the world is okay.

Pretend with me that I never hurt.

This box can cram shut.

Demons skipping around the room,

Laughing as the pieces continue to scatter.

Lament with me over the broken pieces.

And when I’ve stopped weeping, just go.

Wounded hearts feel the deepest of hope.

They feel the deepest heartache.

Chaos rages into the night.

The Dark is snickering.

Why?  What was my problem?

How could I be so easily disposable,

And so easily adored?

I’m a suicide note waiting to happen.

I’m good at pushing loved ones away.

I’m even better at hiding that anything was ever wrong.

And to think this chaos only started last week.

A sealed box of history past crashed open.

Suddenly a lifetime of memories feel like they happened yesterday.

The Dark One

I am the broken.
Cracked, elusive, always changing

Shifting as water.
Fluid without remorse

And yet I am.
Full of regret for this wasted life

Hurting you, hurting me.
O how deeply run your scars

Burdened I carry this hate.
Mournfully crone regret.

Don’t scorn me,
I despise myself enough already

Desperately wicked,
Snuffing out the Light

Pray, save me.
Cast me not aside

Give grace to spare me!
This aching soul filled with regret

Static Electricty

An Ode to Static Electricity
((Sung in a punk rock style))

Dear static electricity
Please let go of me
I wasn’t in the vicinity
But you stuck plastic on my hand

And now I’m wondering
Why you’re hooked on me
I’m like a submarine
With a healthy fear of land

Chorus
Shockingly I run into you, sets my hair on end
I don’t have a need for the negativity you send
Get over yourself, my dear, you wont phase my heart
I’ll be leaving when I can finally pull my clothes apart

I can’t appreciate this shocking force
You’re grabbing for me from the floor
I’m positive we need a divorce
It’s so dry, it’s too worn, you don’t understand

The lightning strike was just too much
Is there anything you wont touch?
Someone get me some glass
I wont allow you to conduct a spark
You’re attacking me alone in the dark
Eventually this too shall pass

Chorus

And now I’ve charged my heart to someone else
I’m positive you’ll get over it before too long
Honestly I never felt the spark kindle for myself
Maybe if you didn’t conduct yourself so wrong
I might have chosen to let you light up my heart
Frankly some days I miss your spark

Wanton Forms of Regret

Love. What is love?

Is it the senseless feeling you have for someone?

Is it the unrequited resolve to stay with one individual person?

She held her glass of wine feeling the tears longing to burst behind her eyes.

Setting her glass on the counter, she tucked her knees up to her chest fighting the urge to cry, replaying the scenario in her mind again and again.

Everything in that moment was bright and colorful. A dream she didn’t get to experience.

She wore a long, beautiful white dress. Her long hair adorning her head as though it were a crown spilling with curls. The long tulle veil was pinned under her hair with a silver comb, falling down her back like rushing water, tiny white flowers tucked into it.

She stood at the edge of a stage waiting for the game to be announced.

He was across the room, wearing a beautiful black suit with a white shirt and silver tie. He laughed brightly, the joy of the day shining off of his face and in his eyes.

He stopped laughing, but the mirth of the moment stayed on his face in a large smile showing off his teeth.

She met eyes, winked and then stood up on a chair with her bouquet in her hands.

Luscious red roses were elegantly arranged with sprays of baby’s breath, little blue flowers and blue ribbon that flowed out of it.

The crowd of eager young women clustered together heightened the cheer, as she faced away from them. She held her breath while the leader of the band counted to three, and then she flung the bouquet behind her.

A rush and screams broke out behind her.  She giggled softly, turning to see who had caught it.

It was a girl she had met, but didn’t know very well. She was a friend of her husbands.

Husband.

The word made her warm inside.  She caught eyes with him.

He watched her intensely, his heart bursting forth through his shining eyes.

That was all she had ever wanted to see.

Tears spilled down her cheeks as the daydream faded into reality again.

That moment had never been hers. And she wanted it so desperately.

From the shining, bursting forth of love in a man she knew beyond a shadow of doubt cared for her, to the scramble of single friends awaiting her bouquet.

The image was so vivid, and so real.  It only added to the trauma of her breaking heart.

Faith picked up her wine glass again. After another swig, she set the glass heavily down and half-ran to the sofa, throwing herself into the arm, hugging a pillow into her chest as she began to sob.