Elastic

It's midnight, the end of the day and I pull my stockings off carefully; there's only one small run so far, right over my big toe. It's the first time I've worn them and I want to use them again. One leg is down over my knee, they are white and I am always disappointed, disappointed and a little surprised to find my legs beneath are red and a little prickly, not the cream white of my nylons after all. I am so used to seeing my legs elasticated in nylon/lycra skin it's a bit of a shock to find they don't really look like that after all. I'm not so used to writing anymore; fallen out of practice, out of the Muses' grace. My hand cramps quickly and pencil stutters over the page. I cannot lose this.

Malaise

Alice used to wear her hair in braids -- long braids. She doesn't anymore. She isn't mine anymore either. Hasn't been in years. I miss her being mine. I miss being with a girl and the open fresh. Jay doesn't let me fuck him. Doesn't let me in him, hardly. Not my fingers in his mouth, nor anywhere else either. I miss flesh closed tight and wet around me. I miss having a penis, which I must have had sometimes 'cause otherwise how could I miss it?