“The Vegan Playground”

@TechnoTupac I thought about changing Into my tennis shoes, just for the commute—but it wasn't an option. I was dressed of course in off season designer off the clearance rack from Ross, trying not to sweat so much that I couldn't return it later, along with the shoes I crammed my unpolished toes into, in hopes that the sheer pantyhose I was wearing would offset the obvious fact that I hadn't had a pedicure in about a year—I had suddenly gone from homeless with two jobs in Las Vegas, to sleeping in an 8-bed room in downtown LA, extending my 2-night stay into six after a contingent job offer; now, it was day one of training, and after a night of music mining and gorging on LA's finest vegan fare at The Vegan Playground, which of course I had found by following some DJ on Instagram whose name I couldn't remember... however, he seemed important enough at least to me. I had never had to wear high heels for so many days in a row—and though I could have at any time opted for some eloquent flats, these rhinestone sling backs, with about a 6-inch heel matched the sheer sleeves on my size 8 dress, which was labeled a small on the rack, and hugged all my curves almost dangerously— and though proudly I had been able to fit in anything down to a size four, I wasn't taking any chances after spending a night's worth of sleep on a fried “chik'n” sandwhich that was too spicy to finish, even if I had room for it after the slice of cheese pizza, which actually paled in comparison to the Whole Foods slices I loved at double the cost, and the vegan donut holes and cookies I couldn't resist, and didn't quite regret—though I prefferee the Sprouts cookies, and however small, the doughnuts were almost worth it. It was good. I had spent the night running about collecting things I thought I needed, or at least whatever I was programmed to, though I didn't really understand why I still went out of my way to collect music at all, wherever I went, as my “career” seemed to be taking an entirely different direction; my new job was in marketing, and though I knew I'd be good at it, and was doing just about anything to earn my own downtown apartment, no matter how tiny, I wondered how, if at all, working 46 hours a week and commuting at least 7 more, besides spending any required amount of the gym would allow me to be any kind of DJ; but I wasn't really any kind of DJ at all, I thought—I had failed and let go of my dreams enough to settle for the occasional guest list appearance. I wanted to shoot myself in the feet, and It felt like I already had; these heels were the end of me, making my typical 7 minute walk into 15 and the 10 minute walk on the other end into 20; I arrived late, but didn't think it much to matter; I would spend the day filling out as many job applications as possible. This particular one was commission-only, and I wasn't about to be homeless and rambling on the streets like the tens of people I passed daily running about, most of them black. Still, somehow it didn't seem to matter. If the reigning white supremacy wanted me homeless, I would be homeless—and it was probably as entertaining as could be to watch me struggle to survive, dangling the possibility of opportunity and success over me all the while knowing I would fail. Rich people and their games. But, I at least knew that I had been up before the sun and into the gym before cramming myself into all that I wasn't--professional business attire I couldn't afford, but at least looked good in-- and so I had changed for the better in at least one way. Although not born into prestige and perhaps even made never to be born at all, I kept waking up into this vessel, it's true purpose yet unknown— If it existed at all. Mm, He smells like hard liquor Let me just Sneak a peak— So you know you're alluring And luring me Please I can't seem to breathe deeply I need you Complete me Come soothe me Let me move you l Come through me Oh I want To love Your body Oh I want To touch You softly Oh, I want you Oh so badly Rick your body On me, on me Uh It's just lust Uh It's just another lover Uh It'd just another comfort Cunning (I'm coming) So love me Love my like no other Touch me; Oh, I need another Body on me Stop it It's just lust It's just another love Just another Confrontation Imm still waiting on my other But he never Calls me As long as he Comes up Running through my head Through my veins And my blood Just hold me Stop it It's just lust Uh I want ya Uh I love when the liquor's strong on em What It's just another love song It's just another love It's just another body What You got all of em I could drown all my sorrows in an ice cream sandwhich; i had all the self control in the world but the lust was almost unbearable; he was my type and I wanted him, but trapped in my own body I knew not to cross boundaries. It wouldn't help much nor would guilt be any further from my mind; I was collecting feelings for unattainable men like toys from McDonald's; however harder to forget about but easily just as practically useless and meant purely for aesthetic value. I was wet, dripping with lust and breathing shallow like a heat wave had come over me; I hadn't been able to get Dillon or Sonny off of my mind all day, and now here was this man; pale, fit, and pretty like I liked them—he smelled strongly of booze which for whatever reason always got me thoroughly aroused. and—best yet, he was stripped down to his tight, unforgiving boxer briefs—perhaps I would pounce on him and give way to my inhibitions and primal instinct, dislodging my tantric inclinationsand pretending he was someone I actually wanted or cared for… —but no such, as it had come to be that there was nothing I could do with myself without feeling one way or another about anyone else; my feelings were real, and there was no more making a fool out of myself about it—I wasn't a high caliber Kayla Lauren, or anyone, of that matter— and so I had let my fascination subside. Still, however burning with lust in the forefront of my mind, and sitting deeply in my soul. I was loyal, always monogamous , and celibate for the longest everlasting moment, even—but couldn't detest h from human feeling, or my peaking sexuality, at that. I could test a man apart and eat him alive thinking endlessly og nothing but what I would do with a body, if given the chance… I opened my ice cream sandwich quietly and lodged two earplugs deeply into my skull, placing my headphones over the top of them just to be sure that the disgusting coughing, sniffling demon of a woman in the bottom bunk below couldn't tarnish what sleep I would get, if any—allowing the sweet Tahitian vanilla vegan ice cream and perfect sugary chocolate chip outer to lull me into a complacent, dissatisfied slumber.