The Week Houston Stood Still

I was born the year Hurricane Alicia hit Houston. My grandmother would tell me stories about us not having lights and being flooded in for a week or so. I was only around six months old so I don’t remember any of it but I’ve often wondered what it must have been like for them. The stress, the fear, the anxiety, the nervousness.

On Thursday night I came to work for a 6:00pm to 6:00am shift. I haven’t been home sense. I have no idea if my house is underwater, I have no idea if it’s perfectly fine. What I have come to accept is that I’m going to survive either way. What I’ve come to accept is that my city will be bigger and better than before either way.

I feel like I haven’t felt the warmth of my woman in months and it’s only been a weekend. I feel as though I haven’t seen my mother’s smile in years or heard my God Children’s laughter. I’m constantly cold because we’re all constantly wet. I’m constantly checking my phone to make sure no one I love is stranded or hurt. I’m constantly looking out of windows and doors hoping to see sunlight or clear skies. I say these things not to complain but to say that we’re all feeling the same emotions. The same sense of helplessness, of loss, of uncertainty.

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I’m working with a Hispanic guy who’s father and sister are trapped in Monterrey, Mexico. A Kenyan who now lives in Katy, a Ethiopian that lives down the street from where I grew up but in the gentrification section. I Mexican guy that doesn’t speak Spanish and loves comic books and tattoos. These are the five men I’ve shared food with, walked in waist deep water with, told everything would be alright when they’re worried about their families. There have been no conversations about elections, about race or about status in life.

Everyone ten minutes or so I hear helicopters flying overhead. I see alerts on my phone for flash flooding. Every time I look out the backdoor I see that the water has risen just a tad bit more. None of this scares me, none of me makes me second guess coming to work or not leaving when I had a chance. I think about the roads we closed and what would have happened had we not and someone drove into that water. I think about responsibility and sacrifice.

We all have a role to play, be safe out there.

4 Reasons Why Kissing Is Still the Pinnacle of Intimacy

Dope Instagram Pic 1. Soft lips still have to be the best cure for a long day. Trends change, styles change, but kissing a woman after a great first date or before you leave for work. That will never change.

2. We all remember our first kiss. Not the one when you’re at the 8th grade prom but that first real kiss when you feel something. Call it sparks, call it love, call it desire. That kiss that makes you want to hold her hand, that kiss that makes you forget time and space and you look up and it’s been two hours. No matter how old we get, those moments still exist.

3. Kissing is erotic but it’s also incredibly innocent. One of my favorite sermons is when my pastor said, “Don’t put yourself in situations where you can’t control your body and your desires. You can say you want to wait until marriage or don’t want to move fast but kissing on a couch in the dark at midnight isn’t going to help you reach that goal.” Kissing is what we make it. It can be a stolen kiss in the elevator leaving a movie or in a parking garage or it can be the introduction to something more.

4. There comes a time in a man’s life where he has to make a decision. Is this the woman I want to kiss for the rest of my life. Not just when there’s candles burning and R. Kelly playing but when she’s just gave birth to your child and it’s a kiss on the forehead. When she’s just finished jogging and is incredibly sweaty and it’s a peck on the lips letting her know you’re proud of her. A kiss on the back of her neck while you’re watching your son or daughter sleep. These are the kisses that define us. The kisses that we relate to moments we live for.

Nights Like This I Wish

20140803-095704.jpgNights like tonight I cut off my porch light and open my blinds and just watch the rain fall. The candle light illuminating the background, the sounds of mother nature brining me comfort in a way that even this writer can’t explain. On nights like tonight I wish…

Nights like this I wish that my mind wasn’t always so cluttered, I wish that I was a simpler man. That I didn’t think so much and overanalyze everything and every situation.

Nights like this I wish a warm body was enough, I wish that the feel and warmth of a thigh or the warm smell of a freshly bathed woman was enough. Nights like this I wish I could tune everything out and just lose myself in pleasure, lose myself in that violent yet sensual touch.

Nights like this I wish I was a better writer, I wish that my words touched more people than they do. Nights like this the doubt consumes me, consumes me in a way that creates a storm in my heart and soul that I can’t control.

Nights like this I just want to stand in the rain and scream that I’m good enough as a writer, as a man, as a lover, as a friend. I want to scream me to the world but who am I trying to convince? The world or myself…

~ Demez

Sobering Thoughts Before Dawn

Today makes 5 days of soberness. I’ve never been much of a soda drinker outside of putting it in scotch or bourbon so giving that up wasn’t hard.

My stomach doesn’t hurt as much, I’ve been sleeping better and I’ve probably drank more water in the past week then I probably drank the last 4 months. Even with saying all that I’m up right now withy the rain falling and the cold bearing down wishing I had a whiskey neat warming me. Does that make me weak?

Weak that I’m craving something that’s literally making me sick? That’s more of a depressant than it is a stimulant. I often wonder if it’s just in my genes, if it’s something that no matter how hard I try it’ll always be on my back.

I’m not an alcoholic, I’ve seen intervention but at times I do feel lost.

I’ve pushed people away so that I can get my mind right. Thus is something I needed to do alone. Something I have to do alone.

Pray for me.

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Winter Rain and Moonlit Thoughts

Rain is soothing. I’ve always loved the sound of it, loved the way it has it’s own perfect beat.

When it’s late at night and the rain is my best friend we talk and listen and our thoughts become one.

I cut off the porch light and open the blinds, just watching the wetness on the grass, in the pavement.

My mind wonders, some rainy nights I hate being alone. Some stormy nights the isolation gives me life.

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Thunderstorms, Trench Coats and High Heels

storms “Turn off the lights. Light a candle; because tonight I’m going to make love to you.” I was singing to her, rather badly but I loved to hear her laugh.

Last night was rough for her, grad school finals and taking on new responsibilities at work. As tired as I was, as she was, I stayed up with her. Sipping coffee, rubbing her shoulders, quizzing her on her notes. It was a long night but one I wouldn’t trade for the world.

“I’m going to need you to promise me you won’t show that sexy voice to anyone else. I don’t want to hurt someone for throwing panties at my man.” I could hear the smile in her voice.

Just like clockwork she called me as soon as she left work.

“Baby. Are you cooking tonight? I just want to come home and lay on the couch.” She still had her house. A house she paid bills at, that was twice as big as mines but whenever she spoke of lying on the couch at home she was talking about my couch.

Staying up all night with her, going straight to work and now I was going to have to make dinner too. A part of me knew she was spoiled but I didn’t have it in me to tell her no.

“I’ll take something out, how far are you?”

“I’m like 5 minutes away. I’m exiting 59 now. Oh babe! I see a cop, let me get off this phone before I pass this school zone! I’ll see you in a minute, love you! Bye.”

The call ended and I stood at the fridge looking inside wondering what the hell I was going to cook in this short notice. Settling on some chicken breast I threw them on defrost and started to grab what I needed when I heard a knock at the door.

I knew she had a key so when I looked out the window and saw her car in the driveway I figured she’d just forgotten to use it. When I opened the door my mouth dropped.

Standing there, a thin trench grey trench coat on, purple heels that added a good 4 inches to her height. Her hair bouncy and curly, holding a six pack in one hand, a pizza in the other. I didn’t offer to take the food out of her hands, didn’t move back so she could walk in. I just couldn’t stop looking at her. Couldn’t stop feeling like this wasn’t real. “I love you,”she mouthed to me. Unbuttoning the top button on her coat, showing me the lace underneath. “I want to suck….” She mouthed. The thunder was loud behind her, the rain even louder. My porch shielding her from the worst of it she licked her lips and smiled that smile that said so much.

Maybe it was a thank you for all I’d done knowing she needed to study and was fighting for a promotion. It could have been her being extra because we hadn’t had sex in a week. Or maybe she knew the draft was tonight and nothing went better with football then beer and pizza. Either way I took the stuff out of her hands. Pulled her inside and set the DVR to record what I obviously wasn’t going to be watching tonight.

Sleepless Intimacy…

naked-thighs.jpgTwo ambien, a bottle of wine and a hot shower and I was still lying in my bed looking at the ceiling. Listening to the rain, closing my eyes for minutes at a time hoping the sandman would find me and take me off to sleep land.

My phone was off and lying on the pillow next to me as if it was a she. I wasn’t expecting anyone to call but I’d learned something about myself over this last year of self-inflicted solitude; if the phone wasn’t off I’d spend hours just picking it up and looking at the same numbers, the same pictures, the same text. Reading the same statuses on FB or the same content on Twitter. Writing was always an option but my mind was tired, it needed rest from creating and thinking.

The best sleep of my life always came when there was a warm body next to me. Her face in the crook of my neck, a heartbeat pounding away next to my ribs or next to my heart. Naked thighs warming my legs and reminding me why God made women for men. The more I thought about it the more real the images became,     her scent, her taste, that sexy half sleep, half drowsy moan that happens when I slip my hand under the covers and do my best to wake her up tenderly.

I hated those images, those memories.

I loved those images, those memories.

Two AM

You have one unheard message, first unheard message sent today at 1:45am… “I know you’re awake, what I don’t know is why your phone is off. I guess you have company or don’t want to be bothered. I can’t sleep myself so I was just giving you a call. I miss you. Write something for me.”

I listened to the message several times before I sat the phone on the kitchen table and took a long gulp from a bottle of water. My liver needed a rest tonight from anything brown. Picking up the phone, scrolling to her picture I wanted nothing more but to call her and tell her I miss her to. But pride is a double edged sword; on one hand it can help you do things you never thought were possible just because someone you love or even you doubted yourself. On the other hand pride can make it hard to forgive even when not forgiving causes more sleepless nights than is humanly possible.

Three AM

Sitting at my desk, I heard the gate opening and saw the headlights pulling into the driveway. Standing up, walking to the window I saw her car and against all my best efforts I smiled. Wanting to be mad at her just popping up, the loneliness was doing something to my mind; company no matter how damaged or volatile was welcome in the pre-dawn hours. I opened the door as she was closing the gate, sweats on, a t-shirt, rain boots and a bright pink rain coat. You would have thought she was on her way to second grade. “You look bright I said and wet,” she smiled and pushed me in the chest. “You wish I was wet and while you’re just standing there get me a towel.” We couldn’t stop smiling either though her standing here was a walking, living, breathing contradiction. I gave her the towel, sat her wet rain coat and boots by the door and hugged her as tight as was humanly possible.

“We can’t have sex tonight, you’ll fall in love all over again and I’ll let you. But I know we both hate sleeping alone so let’s come up with a compromise. You sit at your desk and write while I finish this book I brought.” She was leaning against the door, the towel around her neck. I kissed the forehead, it was impossible for me to fall in love with her all over again because I never fell out of love with her. “That sounds like a really good idea but on one condition.” What’s understood doesn’t have to be said, looking into her eyes, leaning down… Her lips still felt the same way I remembered, her tongue still sweet, her mouth still warm and wet. It should have been a soft kiss that lead to her reading and me writing but how do you tell your body and heart that something that feels so right is wrong. Picking her up, taking the book out of her hand and throwing it on the ottoman I carried her to my bedroom. I wouldn’t be sleeping alone tonight.