My mom says "frick"
or "fiddlesticks"
even when kids aren't around.
She's holding in
some of that pure, unfiltered rage
each time a plate is dropped
or toe is stubbed.
If only she'd just shout "OH ****!"
she wouldn't lash out
at grandma or sob uncontrollably later.

Someone once said to me, "*******!"
and I was happy.
It means they won't ****** me in my sleep
because they expressed verbal and not physical rage.
I was happier when someone told me "go **** yourself"
because I went home and did just that.

Speaking of pleasure,
the act of *******
burns between 85-250 calories,
improves sleep & your immune system.
Google it.

I've been ******;
a realization &/or learning experience
having gone broke without a way to pay rent
resulting in the lesson of moving back in with the parents.

We can get ****** up.
A couple too many tokes &/or shots of gin &/or punches to the face.
We learn the perils of excess.
In third grade, I was ****** up by a group of 6-7 kids.
I learned I never want to experience THAT
uncomfortable feeling again.

Why is **** such a bad word again?

In the event of an emergency
Please fasten your seatbelts
And attempt to remain calm
Breathe easy and prepare for the thrill
Ladies and gentlemen, this is going to be one hell of a ride
Docile, like sheep, you expect us to remain
In the face of our impending doom
Draw in deeply from the mask that’s fallen in front of you
Pure oxygen so that we may become euphoric
Before plummeting into land or sea
Now let’s not forget that life vest too
So strap up ladies and gentlemen,
This is going to be one hell of a ride
As engines three and four shut down
There is little noise to drown out the screaming
Families and loved ones clamoring to say goodbye
Funny how in the moments just before the end
We all want to make amends
The cabin’s losing pressure now
And our fall starts to speed
Over the intercom the captain shouts out
Altitudes, allowing us to pinpoint the exact
Moment that we will all likely die
I breathe in filling my lungs with something pure
Euphoria, eyes seal shut
In just moments it’s all over and I
Begin to fly right back up
Calm and collected as could be
We’re onto the next journey of life, or death
Ladies and gentlemen fasten your seatbelts
This is going to be one hell of a ride

Tracing the outline of her face
On a photograph she’d given me once
What now seems like so very long ago
Smoothing out the torn corners
As I once smoothed out her wild hairs
Ignoring the fading colors
Trying to remember just the way she felt
Running a finger from her chin to her cheek
Examining the crease of her smile
Before gently pressing fingers to
The two small beauty marks beside her nose
You can barely notice the one
But I’ll never forget it
I can recall every detail so perfectly
As if we had never even been apart
But it’s been ages now and I’m not sure
If my memory still serves me right
That’s why so often these days
I pull this picture free
From the folds of my wallet
And gaze at it for hours
Photo paper so worn and glossless now
Grown thin from the countless times
I’ve sat and traced that beautiful face
Only to do it a thousand more
Until there’s holes in this photograph
And my memory of her is all that remains