It takes both hands to count the number of times I’ve been ***** but doesn’t count because I didn’t say ‘no.’
Both hands to recall the men who I felt obligated to sleep with because I had turned them on it’d be ‘mean’ to leave them that way.
On both hands, I can remember the number of times the smell of alcohol on his breath made me want to ***** as he kissed my neck before thinking that I wanted it.
Both hands to count the number of times I wasn’t strong enough to push him off of me before he pushed inside of me.
Both hands to count the number of times he told me to ‘calm down, it was alright.’
I used both hands too many times to run my nails down his back, making him think I was enjoying myself; hoping to end it end sooner.
On both hands, I can count the number of ******* I faked on a different man’s mattress in a different position than the man before.
On both hands, I can count the number of times I said I liked it from behind the most so I wouldn’t have to see his face.
On both hands, I can count the number of men I thought might sleep with me and actually like me instead of using me as just another way to get laid.
Both hands I can count the number of times he finished and I got dressed in the dark so that I could leave and never hear from him again.
On both hands, I can count the number of times I’ve cried myself to sleep, feeling ashamed of the number of men I’d wished I’d said ‘no’ to.
Both hands I can count the number of nights I’ve stayed up only to cut another slash through my wrist and let his memory seep through the wound.  
On both hands, I count the number of times I didn’t want to have ***, but felt guilty and pressured into doing what he wanted.
Both hands I can count the number of times I’ve been *****, but didn’t say no, didn’t struggle, only cried in silence after it was over.

dad left
for his second tour of duty
on my third birthday

mom kept
a jar full of jelly beans
on the living room coffee table

every night
she gave me one to eat, saying
"when these jelly beans
are all eaten up,
dad will come back home"

sometimes
i would sneak another,
to help dad come home sooner

one night
the phone rang
and i watched mom
wipe away a tear
as she filled
the jar
back
up

I wanted love,
but now it'd died.
Being open to ideas
where people would hide.
"Who needs anyone
when you've got yourself?"
Said the foolish man,
only in cry for help.

Why are strangers nicer then the ones you're familiar with?

The ones you grow up with,
Go to school with,
Become friends with.  

Why is it easier to talk to strangers then the ones you know personally?

The ones who know you,
See you every day,
Talk to you face-to-face.

What is the appeal that will make a stranger on the Internet more comforting then friends?

The ones who love you,
Befriend you,
Are physically there for you.

I know why. Possibly better then anyone.

Because in being anonymous, there's secrecy.

And in secrecy we trust.

As mars calls out across the vast distance
I was drawn as a lode stone
To a particle of iron

To the bottom of a Dead Sea
Where green men take peace
With their young

Roaming Ancient race
In deserted cities and Dessert landscape
two moons and the River Iss
A new world


These are the tales of a dying planet
The princess of red men
And a far reached gentleman
Sailing ships on blue waters

Toward a different kind of love.

We are ocean

We are unfurled fury
We are peaceful compassion
We are unknown

As we push against the sands of time
Irreconcilable
We beat, we beat, we lapse

Children await us
Searching the horizons for our source of strength

And the sun sets once more
relinquishing it's last bit of light
giving a reflection of what can be.

The old man sat in the darkness
Taking in what he could see
He smiled, although slyly
And he leaned in close to me

He said the air is different
You can taste it here abouts
Listen close to what's around you
The air is different...there's no doubt

I didn't understand him
He spoke in concepts, not in words
He talked of feeling the emotions
Of people running 'round in herds

He said, I've been here sixty years now
Seen people come and people go
I used to be the barkeep
But, then that's something that you know

I've seen Elvis and The Beatles
Seen Presidents and Kings
I've seen hearts torn all asunder
And the pain that a war brings

I saw Kennedy on that TV
That, one behind your head
I watched him drive on straight through Dallas
And moments later he was dead

This place was just dead silent
On the day that that man died
And hand to god I'll tell you
I was all torn up inside

I saw soldiers in that Vietnam
Fighting for what? I don't know
I saw them on that TV there
I watched them lining up to go

I saw them having rally's
Taunting those who had the guns
I saw them bringing back the caskets
Of the now dead, teenage sons

That TV showed me lots of stuff
It never strayed far from the news
It always shows the Tigers game
I turn it up to hear the boos

I saw King and Bobby on that set
Taken way to young
God, it would have been a different world
To see what things they might have brung

I sat back and I listened
The old man, went on a while
He waved ******* skyward
And said, two more beers ...with his smile

My life has been a good one
I've been alone, except for here
I watch the outside on that set
It was then, we got our beer

I remember back when Elvis died
He was the best back in the day
But, me I liked Sinatra
Dean Martin, Bob and Ray

There was folks in here all crying
singing songs, and holding hands
on various occassions
from Lennons death, to Bobby Sands

I never really took part
In the lives of those who came
To spend their time here with me
I only knew a few by name

My job was just to serve them
Not to be their new best friend
I guess that's why I sit here still
Watching, waiting for the end

That set has shown me good and bad
That one, behind your head
It hasn't worked for fifteen years
We got a new one in instead

It's there as a reminder
more to me, than those still here
That life is for the living
And I'm alive while I am here

He rose and turned back to me
Said, it's time for us to close
I'll be back again tomorrow
To watch more highs and maybe lows

I watched the old man shuffle
To his room, and to his bed
Past the TV he saw life on
On the wall behind my head.

Here we are going nowhere now
Faster than ever before
Not sure of when nor even of how
We bit into this rusty lure

Today lives seem to blow in the breeze
Through branches of rotting trees
Somehow I feel the greatest of need
To repeat the branches of rotting trees

Take the pickaxe and dig up the grave
Unmarked is the one in which we play
No sense in holding it in
Well dig it up then fill it all in again

We all want certain things in life
Standing in line with the question why
Hope against hope not what we deserve
Don't think about it nor whisper a word

Most times find our heads stuck in the mud
No way to move and here comes the flood
Thought at one time if we just let it be
Have I mentioned the branches of the rotting trees

If we cut at those branches, strip off the vines
The fruit it still rots before it's time
And here we are still standing in line
Again with the question of why

Oh, my dear underwear
Why must I put you there?
Helping me be all flirty,
Glad you don’t mind getting *****.

Sometimes lacy, what a trip!
Sometimes plain, sometimes ripped,
Sometimes ****, sometimes stained,
You’re just one of everything!

Dearest underwear, your fate is set!
How on Earth do you let
Me go about and use you so carelessly?
Think about it is simply ghastly!

Oh sweet, sweet underwear, you’re the best!
Now go ahead and take a rest.
Go get washed! Go get well,
Before again your use is swell.

Oh my dear underwear, I’m sure you’ll understand
Why I put you there in the end!