You are the rock stuck inside of  my sock.

You are drying off naturally after the longest shower in history, because you forgot the towel.

Like the string that is hanging off of my sweater.  I keep tugging it and

pretty soon it is short enough for July weather.

The person using the car horn instead of ringing a door bell.

The low battery symbol on my cell.

Pungent perfume from a co-worker, the grossest smell.

The **** that asks for the red piece from your package of sweets.

The friend who cancels five minutes before every time you meet.

The rap artist that thanks God when he wins an award, even though his

songs are just about killing.

Medical technicians milling about when your arm really is broken.

The chapstick left in the pocket when the clothes are in a dryer.

Dress pants for work that are so tight, you feel you must be riding a wire.

The friend's children that you think are rude,

Unexpected company when you and your lover were getting in the mood.

But I guess it is just easier to say, I just don't have a good attitude.

Storm in the morning hours.
You caress me,  like I am suppose to know.
I let you.
Excited where this will go.
Pajamas make *******  me that more easy.
I am as pliable as those pajamas  on days like this.
Don't get mad, I like being submissive on certain days.
You always throw my pajamas in such a crazy way.
Takes longer to retrieve them.
Longer than how much time  you play.

fishnet pantyhose
mexican dinners
men with a big noses
competing, being the winner
women scented like roses

words of praise
cats
getting a yearly raise in pay
the sound outside my window and knowing it's bats
calling in sick to work, and spending the day at play

seeing stupidity and smiling
the laughing of my nieces
writing a good poem without trying
hug by my fiance and falling to pieces

Your calloused hands!
I used to want to claim them
for my wooden treasure chest.
Spending all of eternity
holding both.

You rejected me,
or should I say politely
denied me such pleasures.

And now I tell you frankly,
no woman but me,
would have
cherished those
elephant skin hands.

Sitting next to her in your pauper's bed.
She complains for the 50th time today about her stuffed up head.
She blows her nose into some tissue.
You wanted to make love, but her footy pajamas would be an issue.
This is the time when this beast is actually tame.
She screams at you and breaks your spirit until you jump at your own name.
She ignores you goes back to reading her book.
It's been ages since she has thrown you a smitten look.
She doesn't even have a cold.
It's 12 months out of the year that these mysterious allergies take hold.
They seemed to appear after honeymoon night.
When she knew you were in this deal tight.
Don't say I didn't tell you so,
remember you left me for her more beautiful soul

I forgot to pay my muthafucking mobile phone bill.

I tell ya, this week until payday is going to be some thrill.

The only luxury I have in my life is the information super highway on that phone.

I click on a land faraway, once the weirdos at my work start to ***** and moan.

I click on the browser and let my mind roam.

I get to type all over the world,

The co-workers complain about all the races they hate

while I don't say a word and go to wikipedia straight away.

I can spend hours reading about nazis, astronomers, and plants

I might just invest in ear plugs to stop listening to co-workers rant.

I catch up on gossip about celebrities I have never heard of,

and read about the **** they are doing to ruin their lives.

I go to Facebook, where a few people think my words are clever.

Lets me sever the pains of everyday annoyances.

Read about dreamy recipes I could make, and all the delicious pies I will bake.

Chat with someone who slept all day and is now awake in Egypt.

But like I said, I am without a phone this week.

Seven days to let my insanity peak.

Little Penelope Persnicketty was a girl that grew up down the lane.
Her Mother doted on her so much, you would think her insane.
She took such care of her prized daughter pet.
Father never mentioned in the picture, a World War II vet.

Penelope Persnicketty was rather peculiar.
Every single thing she owned was pink, even down to her school ruler.
Petticoats, lace and stockings all a flamingo hue.
The dresses seemed so old fashion, never saw anything new.

She always seemed like a damsel in distress
Mother Persnicketty hand sewed every dress.
When she wasn't sewing , she held Penelope tight.
We rarely saw her out of her mother's controlling sight.

There was one thing Mother Persnicketty couldn't control.
It was puberty ravaging Penelope's little soul.
Hair appeared places it shouldn't.
*******? Penelope wished for them but couldn't

Finally, the secrets began to unravel.
The Persnickettys packed up for some European travel.
In the fuss, we saw the forgery and what else her Pandora hemmed.
Made a daughter just by writing in the letter F instead of M.

I want to write that poem.

The one that will make you *** in your pants.

Make you click up your heels, dance on your father's grave. Then your mother will become an emancipated slave!

To punch that bully square in the face, the one that made you want to erase your grade school years.

I want this poem to make you feel so ****, get you to can dance around naked without a fear.

I want it to help you find a lover,  someone who will pamper your heart like no other.

Maybe it can help you patch up family arguments. Instead of calling that guy an *******, you can actually acknowledge he is your brother.

Hopefully, it can raise the dead. Let the answers you desire become said.

The children you wish on a star for, turn around and they appear. Don't want them? Make a wish and they are removed , a few miles from here.

Here, take this. Use it to dry those heavy tears.

Who knows?

It may even compliment your saggy rear!

Mother's day is coming around again!
Better get her something that's a bargain.
I bought her some pretty green sheets.
They'd fit on their bed ,oh, so neat!

Oh yeah, I remembered you aren't here!
Dead, and gone. Not anywhere near.
I spoil myself on such a holiday.
Reminded of this every May on the second Sunday!

I get off thinking
me not wearing any clothing
you dressed, pleasing me.

Fantasies, fantasies.
Oh, the options!
Sick ones, lame ones, and boring ones.
I have them all.
Except for little men.  No appeal at all.

Men? Women, too!
Who gives a ****, it's not a real *****.
Not even something I would ever do.

Blowing Oskar Schindler because he had such a big heart.
Britney Spears, I'll tear that ***** ***** apart!
Getting into serial killer's cars, hoping they tease me with a knife.
Smiling in ecstasy as they slit away my life.

Nazis! Nazis! Make me weak in the knees.
***** my family in the old country.
Here I  dream and say
"Yes, please!"

Some Japanese war-time brothel.
Hell, I could even be the runner of a geisha tea house.
These girls better answer to me,
not make a sound louder than mouse!

Dare not ask if anyone else has these thoughts, especially friends.
I know I will never see them again, if it comes out!

It's good to be an ugly gal.
No one man will ever hold the door,
or dare to call me a *****.

Having a sober conversation,
knowing no man is never looking to score.
Having a drunk conversation ,
knowing he is ready to do me on the very same floor.

I master my detective skills,
finding out about all of his side thrills

Acquiring medical degrees,
when he confesses what those warts may be.

Becoming a priestess, through Vedic *** tricks
hoping he falls in love through his stick

Most of all a sense of humor,
because what pretty girl could write this sick?

You are Irish. So am I. The Kennedys are, and so is half of ******* America.

We aren't special, you aren't unique, so put down your Guinness you freak.

I hate people being so proud of a land they have never been.

Our freckles and our hair and skin is the color of ham.

You act like the Irish invented beer

and are proud that the Celtic women have a big mule rear .

Our ancestors had to escape such a ****** forsaken place.

and you act like god chose you to procreate some master race.

I know that your family and mine spent years in mud.

Dirtier than swine, just to feed your family a diseased spud.

Our pink grandparents came here, and put down every other race that didn't match their rosy face.

So go find a leprechaun with a *** o' luck.

Don't raise a drink to our ancestry, because I don't give a ****.

In the olden days,
the Roman days.
Women and men had *** in the farm fields to ensure the crops would be fertile.
Drinking wine,  forgetting time,  and reveling in their mortality!
Wouldn't that be fun?
Bacchus!

I smile,
turn towards him.
He snores.

my boyfriend is a pervert
begging
for me to wear the shortest skirt.

never leave house in such an instance
blinding
everyone at a within seeing distance.

I know about your college girl lesbian ****.
It wasn't yesterday that I was born.
I know we have our vices, dear.
We only indulge in it when the other isn't near.

Very few I would put over you, but chocolate is what
I keep from your view.
Driving in my car, ******* down Hershey bars.
Chocolate is my other lover.


The shame I feel at my growing ****,
Wearing baggy clothes acting like I am in a fashion rut.
The minute you leave the apartment
I start my oral *******.

Pudding, chocolate ice cream, cakes. What a delight!
I am so weak, my will power puts up no fight.
But I know you are the one burning calories,
looking college girl lesbian **** all night.

sitting in an ivory tower.
high above any contact.
eating a loaf of bread.
with a pretty dress on.
waiting to be rescued.
or maybe just thought about.
desiring to spin wool.
reading a book on the Warsaw ghetto.
growing fat.

While every drowns me out
you turn me up
listening to all of my personalities
pretty sirens don't take your attention off of me
people in love are suppose to meet half way
little did they know, we were in each other all along.

your little white lies are threaded and spun together
they make a new strands every time you talk.
the sequence of your web changes when you take action.

The unattractive woman at the office that you flirt with.
The invisible career you brag about.
The family problems that you exaggerate

you talk and your tongue is exercised.
your lungs waste their space and breath.
your lips formulate through the motions.

who are you trying to please?
we all see you are the spider and cannot leave your web.

Mr. Gary is a fellow co-worker, and the scariest man I have ever come to know.

He has never married, never had a girlfriend in his 57 years on this globe.

But talks about each and every woman he has ever seen within that time span.

Short, fat, she looks like a pig, ****** looking as a rat he'll chase after that.

He dreams of women in every size and stalks them in all ways.

Calls in sick goes to a hotel, and watches 8 hours of ****.

Just because he has never moved out of his mothers house, and she hates women in any form.

He drinks oceans of wine, and drives after any woman giving him an imaginary sign.

He told me numerous stories with prostitutes and how they have tricked him.

But I think he is okay, because surely anyone this straight is obviously gay.

fleet foot of mine
lay claim to no one
not even my own.

chains wrapped
around my own
curious trials

There was no way to really describe it.
Long as I lived, I thought.

I went to Hawaii, swam in the sea.
And that's when it reminded me.

The under current swept me off my feet.
And not in some sweet delightful way.

The water rushed everywhere I didn't desire.
In my body, I felt a shameful sort of fire.

The salt water choked me in the same way,
my tears drowned in those days.

The tide was unrelenting, minutes seemed like hours.
Like those school days felt like years.

The tide kept moving and I was twelve again.
Such a sad thought on a Hawaiian weekend!

My ex-boyfriend is moving back to town, so I better stop eating like a hog and looking like a clown!

The way he broke my heart, I still can't find the words to explain.

I'm going to have to throw these chips away and start eating everything plain.

It's been 5 years, and oceans of Coca-Cola's later.

I need to wire this mouth shut,I am always hungrier than an alligator.

My trunk has swelled to epic proportions, it's going to take the strangest contortions into getting fit.

I feel like an elephant in every chair I go to sit.

I know he doesn't miss me or my wit.

Every joke I ever told him, I had to explain it.

The last time he set his eyes on me, the fire department had to remove me from spying on him from his tree.

The handcuffs of the police hurt, but not as rough as he with my heart.

Things had gone so good when we did start!

The number of restraining orders are making my apartment looking like I am a hoarder.

So when he sees my **** body from the distance the court has ordered me to stay from him,

I just know his heart will swim back to me.

And I will be sitting in his tree.

Because, we were meant to be!

I could taste you in my mouth.
Savoring every last drop from when we last met.
The leaves were changing, falling and pulsating.
In this autumn chill,  I knew you would come back.
I hung on desperately like those leaves, to your infrequent letters.
They didn't come when you promised.
As this season always returned, so did you.
I licked my lips.

The times of past had been rough.
Misunderstandings.
I could just feel it in the air, maybe things wouldn't be the same.

We were finally alone.
You always preferred crowds to me, but that was just your nature.
What did that matter now?
I was ready to surrender to you.
I could taste you in my mouth again.

And just like so many times before, your palm struck my cheek.
Crumbled my body like those leaves.
I remembered the man I waited for.
Another hit and a push again.
I was tasting the blood mixed with fear.
I waited a whole year.
You repeated yourself.
There was no doubt, I was tasting you in my mouth again.

catching different sorts of insects
the feeling of Earth on your bare feet
feeling like a millionaire with any coin you find
the humid wind making your hair heavy
your height being level to an adults **** for years
some sort of sugary substance attached to my cheeks
hours of boredom, which we would **** for as adults
closeness with siblings,  never to be regained.
and if there were such thing as reincarnation,
would childhood summers be like this all over again?

this jealousy streak is eating me by the bit.

With a gentle tug at my heart.

I feel the emotion, but I don't know were to start

The women at my work always getting flowers, I steal one or two when they aren't there.

People who don't have work, able to lunch for hours.

women on facebook with pretty faces, pretty bodies saying every joke that is a hit.

while I come home looking like ****.

where did this monster seep from?

I was over such things a few years ago.

I feel like a troll under a bridge when I have such stupid thoughts.

People praise my brain and I am ruining it, worried about outside existence.

I suppose this is a human feeling.

I am not used to such an ordinary dealing.

Allow me to sigh,
the simplest release.

Ease me from those
tomorrow is right around the corner
blues.

This breath isn't a cigarette
a cup of *****
an afternoon snooze
or a roll in the hay.

No, it's just one cleansing breath
means so much to me.
Now I know how monks reach divinity.

It was me and him boating on a lake, under an autumn night.
I seduced him into this, knowing everything seemed right.
He put his huge hand on my tiny knee
and away we pushed the boat off of a tree.

My head spun, years waiting for this.
Just for the right time when he would avalanche with kisses.
It was only a matter of moments.
Years I have waited for such atonement.

The years of being semi-***** had lost their thrill,
and only would I be satisfied with a spill, but not ***** this time.
Six years had taken it's toll
and tonight it would end with this boat's stroll.

The kisses came, and I wet my lips.
I could smell his laundry detergent when I was in between his hips.
I undid his zipper with my mouth.
Surely he felt he had an adventure coming down south.

Licking around his length,
He was ten times my strength.
But it wasn't a fair fight, because
I had knives my father bought off the t.v. late at night.

My mother always chastised my dad for such a buy.
Little did they know, it would help their girl out of a lie.
I reached in my purse, what a great hide!
I brandished the blade as he wanted to come inside.

And just like that! I removed my mouth from his rice-sized ****
I sliced him, and it happened way too quick!
I spared his ****** for some reason or another.
Maybe some other lover would feel pity, or a boys choir hiring.

I grabbed my purse with the moon showing his stunned face.
I jumped in the lake and swam at a pace.
The tiny member still in my hand.
I buried it in the sand.

And after all of this, I learned something new.
Listen to the late night commercials and what they spew!
Their commercials may be cheap and constantly on the air.
But every so often their gadgets may leave you with extra time to spare.
And take care of the important things that have been bugging you all along.

adoring you is effortless
so easy and free
how I wish everyone can experience love to be.

first conversation brewed into a raincloud of thoughts.
and ideas made us a stream,
and before I knew it,
the stream carved out the side of a canyon
and it happened
all underneath the glowing moon
that was your compassion
that became a river
so large that only your love of me could fill it
the chill in the air was my reservations
but before I knew it

my heart turned into some sort of wild salmon
swimming away from me!

We never got to laugh at the way that chemotherapy ruined your hair, and how luxurious it was when it grew back. even stronger than before!

we ran out of time to name all of your tumors, and giggle when they were evicted from your body. you felt even better than before!

even when your funeral was under way, our laughter filled the halls. because, even in death we couldn't forget your mishaps and jokes.

it was especially touching at your wake, when your brother smashed his head on a door frame. like the hand of you could only do.

and now we keep on smiling.

when my dad insists that a shower curtain makes a perfectly fine table cloth.

or when my future husband cares more for our aging ill cat, better than he could ever push cradles for babies we won't have. I smile!

I smile and think that you cannot be near. Maybe your next life has already started, surely you don't need to worry and watch us. The same smile that you passed unto us, the best gift you can teach your children in hard times.

My dear childhood friend,
we made it through!
You and I on the altar
suffering cuts way back when.

Daily humiliation fed to us as the body.
Drank our own tears like a wine.
Confessions you and I could only understand.
Memories in the back of my mind always like a hymn.

I thought we were both survivors,
but then you did it.

You began to baptize your very own children in this same way!
Somehow I had to excommunicate half of my soul
the day I had to let you go.

cute women on facebook always wanting to find a spiritual life.

they post their **** pics, wanting god while you are imagining them as your wife

a pretty face, with a head just full of air and space.

ladies living off photo comments, in a teenage-like race

asking for the fastest path to enlightenment, as long as their bed is the place.

the guru is already picking out the Victoria's Secret colors in lace.

men praising them wanting to be their next spiritual guide.

when in fact he just wants to ride her special slide.

when she gets enough of his enlightenment, surely he will hide

The hand that is pain seems to have strangled my emotions a bit.
At times gasping for air, I fall back inside of me and can reflect.

kind of deaths
kind of scrapes
kind of love
kind of rapes
kind of fights
kind of hate

Those so many things that had happened on so many kind of evenings
I never thought I would make it to day break and am lucky to still be
breathing.
Never tell anyone.

with my heart everywhere, I think I know how you feel.
As long as it is the real person you are showing.

kind of let down
kind of sad
kind of bored
kind of mad

I want to see you through your evenings, days, and mornings.
I have been there, even if other fools past said they cared.
I am here listening.
Never tell anyone.

guard down, my veil and wall has been dropped.

not worried about my twitches, my looks or the size of my behind

a maternal hold, so familiar.

thinking past, I think better of slumber than old lovers.

when sleep and I take a rest during a sunny day.

The rest of the world was working, but we were being naughty

spending so much time together.

The afternoon a storm came, we held each other and smiled at the rain.

oily skin
no appetite
dry mouth
nothing to say

I hate working mornings!

I wish I could write a poem to show how uncomfortable I am with myself.
I would wax and wane about how god has left me without looks.
I would compare myself to people without limbs or eyes.
It would be such a self serving poem.

It would make people sick.
They would think back to their cousins without limbs.
Don't we all have family members like this?
At least people you got a peek at in grade school...

I wish that I could write a poem like this.
Without the whole readers hating me part.

I have no idea why I let this relationship get this far.
Single people wish for such things on shooting stars and birthday candles.
Not me. Not anymore. I had to **** this *****.
Settle our score.

Perhaps the **** thought I would pop the question.
Either way, I had us both in the car and sped off in no particular direction.
I gorged her fat *** with chocolates and wine.
Funny, in a few hours this sow would be no problem of mine.

Her apologies and anxiety led me to this dark place.
I loved her jokes and she had an okay face.
The nagging and indecisive ways is what finally got to me.
Ah! Perfect lets head into this park full of trees.

Normally only gay men hang out in these parts.
It will be pretty funny when they come across this cut up ****.
I had the axe wrapped in a towel in the back seat.
This ***** had no idea what would knock her off her feet.

And just like that she made a real funny joke.
My conscience got the best of me and made me choke.
****! Feelings stop me again.
Why do we end up doing this every weekend?

" I want to die." I said. Like I always say, every few months.

He took it in stride, didn't say anything, but let his body glide next to mine.

I thought of regular ways to end these endless days.

Hanging is such a strange thing, what glory is ending life with a single string?

Throwing myself off a balcony had some charm, but living on the first floor, would cause myself more harm then death.

Drugs and overdoses seem romantic, but I could end up a vegetable, even more tragic!

So here, I lay. Chugging away planning our wedding day.

" I want to die."  I said.  Like I always say, every few months.

He took it in stride, didn't say anything, but let his body glide next to mine.

I thought of violent ways to end my endless days.

Hanging is such a strange thing, besides nothing in my apartment would do this sufficiently.

Throw myself into train traffic, but why cause such a racket? Poor people having to go to work.

Drugs! Yes,  drugs. Unless you do it wrong and end up in a coma with a personality of a rug.

So here, I lay. Chugging away planning our wedding day.

No one ever appointed me judge or jury.
What can one do when a friend is cutting their morals in a blaze of glory?
Stand by and let time fly?
Speak up and gives their senses a try?

The time came and I cut them away
Better off then let my mind always thinking of them astray
Alone I am now.
It's now all that bad anyhow.

waiting.
this is my highest compliment to you.
waiting.
In the hot sun in the afternoon.
Vultures and flies buzzing over my head.
when I lay this way
I expose my neck
I allow myself to become your prey

The romance is lost a bit in such situation. Don't you think?

I can't have kids.
Now that I said it just please accept it.
I could lie to you and say I was in some sort of horrible accident that rendered me sterile.
I could lie and say his ***** is slower than fish swimming in a barrel.
I could lie and say we wish for such a miracle. but we don't.

at the end of the day my mind is rattling. in the morning it never wants to start. when I try to think about happiness then an arrow deflates my heart. nerves and worries are like sparrows nests in my head. i cry for those that lived, i cry for those that are dead, and i cry for myself because my mind has never tried producing enough chemicals to make me happy. it's not the run of the mill stuff, it's deep **** treading through and it is rough.

I see no reason to bring a kid into this place. If it were diabetes or heart problems people would respect my decision space. without children i feel no sadness. it's one less soul that doesn't have to see my mind's madness.

Put down those veils you wear.
Only if you allow me,
can I help you.
You see that mountain up there?
I have climbed it
took me a while to tell you that.
been tricked by beautiful before.
we all have
balanced on those red rocks
mastered it
though you may not like to hear
having known it
felt how ugly
came down
will show you
this is my everyday.
I hold you more than you will know.
Lead me to you.

What is the point?
I am not a baby machine
or
a beautiful queen.

What is the point?
Rotting away
and
waiting for my hair to turn grey.

What is the point?
To not die today
or
tomorrow.