Date: Thu, 04 Jan 2007 12:31:20 +0000
From: Timothy Stillman <menovember@hotmail.com>
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.