orgasam

the cold air on my skin
all hard nipples
& warm lips

my mind wanders to places
& it lays there
gasping for breath

breasts aching
where teeth had
grazed

wet between the thighs
moaning biting screaming

conversation in between
labored breaths
trying to remember the last thing he said

And Then There Were Men

They hail you as their morning starBecause you are the way you are.If you return the sentiment,They'll try to make you different;And once they have you, safe and sound,They want to change you all around.Your moods and ways they put a curse on;They'd make of you another person.They cannot let you go your gait;They influence and educate.They'd alter all that they admired.They make me sick, they make me tired.

"Men" Dorothy Parker


And that's all I have to say tonight.

Boredom

You sit all day, in one place and you stare at your computer screen or your cash register or whatever it is you do and at the end of the day, you go home. Do you ever wonder what happened to that little kid inside of you that wanted to be a princess? Or a cowboy? Or an astronaut? Or a painter? What happened to the child that could look at a toilet paper roll and see it's infintie possibilities? Where is the wide eyed wonder that made us itch to go outside on a warm May afternoon and run until our lungs burst? When exactly did we lose that part of ourselves? And where do we find them? I remember staring out the window of my elemnetary school, wishing that the clock would move faster because the sun was that perfect shade of yellow and I couldn't wait to get out into it. Now, I try and take time to get outside and sit in the sun, face upturned, soaking in the heat and the smell of a spring day. But all too often the joy of basking in nature's glow is replaced with bills to pay and laudry to do and errands to run. And the world marches on. Until I look at my eleven year old daughter, who can still see the infinite possibilities in the world. For her every day is a new adventure, every piece of paper is a story waiting to be told, every crayon is a Picasso waiting to be created. And I smile. I grab onto her enthusiasm for life and I hold it tight to my heart. I love my child for many reasons, but the one I love her the most for is because she keeps me young.

SOCK MONKEYS ROCK

There are things in this life that just make us happy, even if we don't know why. I love Sock Monkeys. Don't ask me why. I couldn't tell you, but they make me smile. I think it's the smile...maybe it's the absurd red mouth.

Check out the history of the sock monkey:

http://www.supersockmonkey.com/catalog/history.html

Or build one for yourself:
http://lennytaylor.freeyellow.com/Monkey.htm

Everyone needs a sock monkey, the world would be a happier place.

What I know

What I know is this....


I know that I miss you when you aren't here. I know that you slip into places you shouldn't be. I know that I can still feel the way your voice slides over my skin, touching me in intimate places.

I know that when I close my eyes I can still see you. I know that at night sometimes I move my fingers over the dark and imagine you there. I know that I miss you. I know that I can see the curve of your jaw, where my fingers traced it so many times.

I know that tomorrow I will sit and I will daydream...and you will be there. I know that in the years to come I will wonder what might have been.

I know that I will cry.

These are the things I know.

Insomnia

I had almost forgotten what it feels like not to be able to sleep. To have your mind whirling with so many different thoughts and images that shutting your eyes is impossible. Ideas bombard me whenever I lean my head back to rest, and then I'm off again. Moving because I can't sit down.

I keep seeing the world flashing past behind my tightly closed eyelids, like a home movie set to loop. Over and over. Stimulus flooding my senses while I try to focus on something calming. Music and smells. Things I saw a year ago. They keep coming...

I had almost forgotten what it felt like to live in that fringe of the world that comes after midnight. The time of day when only people like me are awake. Life takes on a different hue at night, a different tone. The normal rules of society seem somehow relaxed. The people I talk to don't feel the need to pretend ...don't need my approval. It's easy to get comforatable in that world, existing without daylight.

I watch people move through the morning hours, all business and sunshine. They take pride in their ablitily to swish and slide through the glow of noon. The brilliance of the blue sky is more pronounced when you've spent long moments memorizing the blackness of midnight. Most of the time, they don't even notice me. I am an invisible part of that world....stuck in the time between that final meal of the day and the first cup of coffee.


.... and I am not alone.