text: Hour Two The first hour garnered more attention then he wanted so he decided to change who he was. Another mask, another face and yet simple enough to be seen through if someone truly cared. The girl was a weird object of desire for him. All too appealing and all too taboo for a have baked person to possess and yet she confessed in him. He doesn’t know what to do. He cares for her yet not quite in the way she would wish. He does not want to lead her on and yet it feels like this chance is the chance to make it all right. A woman grown yet not quite a woman at all. Old enough to know what she wants and yet young enough not to know better. He thinks her eyes are more warped then his for she sees him as a perfect gentleman. Or at least she sees him as a person to be treasured. He feels like a broken being and she doesn’t believe him. What exactly does she see? He’s hungry in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. His deformity makes him ashamed and yet he wants her. She is not true beauty and yet he still lusts for something more amazing then him. She has everything he could never have after all so maybe he just wants to take a part of her away. He lies to her. He lies to everyone after all so why would that stop him now? His life has been for the most part uneventful so why not embody someone else for awhile? To experience the things, he has never experienced would be the reason so he lies. The feeling of wading in that shit is natural to him. Comforting even to be somebody else for awhile. Yet we digress. She is blind and naive. After all she’s a very sheltered 18 year old woman who was never at the top of her school hierarchy. It scares him how his flippant lies harm him and yet it excites him at the same time. She may not be the prettiest girl in the room but her smile and blush are second to none. A pleasant sight in a workplace filled with foul-smelling middle-aged men. He wants her and she believes she wants him. He doesn’t want to hurt her. He who sits in the shit of his words does not want to use her like toilet paper as a single sheet would never be able to clean the mess he makes. Still, any possible relief from the feeling of the bog and the oppressive smells it brings clings to his shallow soul. He wants her he thinks yet still cares. The two sides of his mind keep fighting in turmoil so the half-baked man does what he always does. Nothing. He keeps a comfortable distance as he waits down the clock. His rotten doughy outside being more tainted by the sweet nothings he says until she has to finally leave. He hopes her College life goes well but also hates her for the chance he never had. He knows that she built that chance for herself all on her own and his half-baked self should mind it’s own business and yet still... he hates her. She hurts herself sometimes. A small bit of control and a small amount of defiance. He doesn’t understand why she does it to herself as the half-baked man only understands venting anger that way. To bite hard enough not to draw blood and yet be able to clear the mind of its red haze. Her cutting herself reminds him of the scars his sister carries. He feels anger, pity and jealousy for it. Yet the fleshy dough of the half-baked man does nothing. He does not know what to do about the girl. So, he waits out the clock, hungry for what he could and couldn’t take. So that the choice is no longer his.