2014 by tore56789 (GOS) All rights reserved.
I got this idea from the apps available for smart-phones. Did you know there is an app available now where you can write your deepest thoughts and air these to the world –anonymously? The app is called SECRETS.
Guy dreaming of being a Pilot
Airhostesses bumped my thighs with their beautiful smiles, large tight asses, bodily musk’s, oh, so divine. Whispers in my ear, soft, so only I might hear, as I check the instruments, grip the yoke. “I want you baby, oh so badly, after we land in New York.” The girls words warm, light, like a beautiful Hawaiian summer’s evening.
She bumps me with her tight again. And suddenly I hear. “What the fuck you doing buddy?! Got your brains in your ass?!” A voice reaches out, guttural, course, from a taxi, an individual like sweaty, dirty blob. And just then I suddenly realise, I’m jaywalking, like some crazy S.O.B, in all places, downtown New York! Of all times, in the early morning rush! And the bump was the light tap of the vehicle to my side.
As I go off to an office in a nine to five existence. In a job, let's face it, a hamster in cage could pull off. My only escape from the accumulation of bills –my God given imagination. But for that, I’d take a fifty floor plummet to the ground. And do that cunt of a wife out of her alimony.
Getting to the sidewalk, I reflect again. Wouldn’t it be nice to be a pilot away above the clouds, in that beautiful world of smut...? Laying my head and my genitalia at whatever port I wanted.
Girl thinking of her life, her wish to be a dancer
Crazy, when you think, I came to this godforsaken city to be a success –two years ago, at eighteen. Some hope of that, now! You’re going to laugh at this: My mother thinks I’m attending that dance academy. Yea, you got it, like those bimbos out of that TV series, FAME. That’s the place. She thinks this, because I told her that. To keep the old bat happy –felt she at least deserved to have that piece of mind about her daughter’s wellbeing.
She wouldn’t like the truth. That I do tricks to feed a coke habit. And I get all down and dirty with guys old enough to be my grandfather, to afford that luxury.
Reckon for sure, “Ma” would really love their way of living! Cracking open bottles of Crystal with her Shirley Ann, at several hundred dollars a bottle, like it was no more than breaking open a beer back home in an Idaho bar. Reckon though, to be sure, she wouldn’t take too kindly at what these crazy folk like to do with that expensive Champaign.
Still, I haven’t given up on my dreams. Having a beautiful apartment that looks down over Central Park? Maybe when that materialises –which all seems more rational after a hit? I’ll do just that. Bring my mother to New York to visit. So she can see –I didn’t end up like a no good cheap piece of trailer trash, like she is.
Homeless person accounting details of a homicide
Another lousy cold night, where anything can happen? Since some bum resting in a box can see horrors you wouldn’t even believe. And most of the time does.
Saw a guy’s ass capped. Not more than 30 feet from where I lay, two weeks back –for an expensive suit? Because that’s what made the honky son-of-a-bitch stand out in the first place, in that lonely, hard part of Harlem?
The cat was just cruising down the sidewalk, singing, like some crazy retarded version of that Michael Jackson character. Waving his hips, his hands in the air? He was really jiving wildly. You get me?
When a car pulls up, like what looked liked coloured kids from away down in the hood. Could hear the wild beat of hard rap coming from within their cruiser, ringing out with words like, “nigger, cap in your ass, your dead, dusted, sucker...”
Watched as the crazy kid asked; as high as judge on crack, going right up to their window. “If you got the goods, my man. I got the cash. And throw in one of those hores you got in the back, and I’ll fold over some more green your way. We on the same frequency, dude?” Kid looked away off his turf. Whatever brought him to that street? Shades, wild hairdo, that blew out all over his head? I saw him as someone who hadn’t a brain inside that hair.
“Who you calling a hore, motherfucker. That’s my baby sister.” Guy in the passenger seat yells out, really, really loud, breaking the night.
Heard the shot then, and observed the dude on the sidewalk getting it in the head? Then after, watched as they riffled his pockets, taking his nice expensive jewellery –when the crazy kid was still fighting for his life on the pavement, making jerking like movements.
Didn’t move from the spot, just stayed there and watched, till the kid stopped twitching altogether, after maybe another few more minutes. What’s crazy, when I did chance to leave my box and wondered out to where the body lay, after maybe another five or six minutes, I found the kid had a mobile phone in his pocket. Which I quickly jacked. Had I known that. I guess I could have rung for a paramedic.
That thought stayed with me. The phone I sold on after for a lousy few bucks.
The app is like that, people speaking about their deepest secrets. These are just ideas I scribbled down one night. If you get time, you should check it out.
