With each step, the heat of passion of love and excitement only intensifies. I burn with fire from the love of passion, he can fill the whole world. And the sky turned pink. The sky glitters with glitter. The air is filled with the fragrance of love and the world is more beautiful and you are becoming more and more divine in my eyes, I bow to your extraterrestrial beauty and belong to you alone, the goal of all my lives for all eternity. You are the one that I will always dream of and my heart will forever love and want you alone. The goddess appearing to me in ****** thoughts and depraved dreams of passion. Up close you are beautiful to tears - these are tears of sincere happiness and admiration.
You are more beautiful than the most beautiful. Merge together forever and ever with the spirit of yours, and your inner world, my lonely soul dreams. See the depths of your amazing me. To give you your eternal devotion: you are my life, eternity and my destiny, you are my only right choice, you are everything that I love and want. Both my heart and my mind are open only to you. You look so romantic and beautiful, your charm, your spell beckons my mind to you, it is useless for them to resist you, they can only fully obey, surrender to you alone. My legs go only to you, my eyes look only at you, and I focus only on you. Everything in me is overwhelmed with you. And inside, from the love of you, is incredible, absolute lightness. And from the fact that you are not with me, my heart hurts almost to a heart attack. Epochally, I fell in love with you totally, beyond ******-poetic, overly ****. Yes, truly, you are my empress, and only I worship you, look at this temple of my love, dedicated to you, on this great altar, look around, you are everywhere, sit on this throne of love, my great and beautiful goddess. Each your kiss is indescribable and priceless, it is vital. Every your look, fantastically-romantically-touchingly beautiful. He kindles the fire of love and passion in men. Your charm is a powerful force that attracts everything and everyone to itself.
Awakening true, sparkling love for you, of universal scale. This throne of eternal praise and worship is only for you alone, and the chorus, singing about your beauty only for you. In you, every millimeter of your perfect, hot, hot-**** body is beautiful. My world is in your uniquely beautiful eyes, in your feelings and emotions, and I’m not tired of talking about your perfect proportions. Only your caresses give such feelings as love and happiness. Striking, powerful, attractive appearance. The magnificent grace of your body has no equal. Only your divinely beautiful body is worthy of the highest praise and points. I am only waiting for you. You're all I think about. The empress of my subconscious, in my inner world, dreams, and memories, you are everywhere. I always wait only for you. You are my only eternal thought that helps to live in this world, my beautiful emotion, and an amazing feeling. Only, like you, can excite with a look and fall in love with yourself forever. Life without you is unthinkable, impossible. Believe me, I know this for sure, your beauty shines gently with honey, golden light and brilliance. Your beauty is powerful hypnosis.
You are tremendously in love with you totally. You are the highest goddess: beauty, love and erotica. For me, you are the supreme being of all universes. You rule and command over male minds and hearts. Please do not be offended by this truth, but you are so beautiful that you don’t even need cosmetics, only you can look so natural and beautiful, but you are also very powerful ****** attraction, arousal, my only hobby, I’m madly obsessed with you. Your voice sounds sleeker than a violin, more touching than a piano, lighter than a harp, thinner than a triangle. So amazing, your beautiful skin glitters sexually, it is perfect, sweet, juicy. And your perfect figure, perfection itself. You are not replaceable and priceless. You are the most important, most valuable thing in my life. Your infinitely amazing, impressive, external and internal beauty sets you apart from all living and nonliving. So stunningly passionate, your beautiful body is a powerful magnet attracting a huge amount of affection and passion. You are perfect, your beautiful figure is so perfect that you don't even need clothes. I am struck down on a feast, and I bow deeply, taking off my hat to your royal authority, for me it is a great honor and a great honor to be with you by your side, you are my idol and autograph, I take it from me and keep it from my heart, exposing it to the honorary a place in your altar of love, where only you are everywhere, I am your eternal, devoted fan. You have no equal, I adore everything in you. You are the highest, absolute aerobatics. You are a beautiful and perfect image that you can imagine. This is what a beautiful goddess looks like. You are the highest good, pleasure and pleasure in this universe. I put a madman of points and a sign of infinity to boot, your unique beauty. You are so beautiful that you immediately want to marry, and live with you all eternity.
Your teasing sexually exciting figure keeps my mind completely under your control. You are a thermonuclear *** bomb-boom babe. You are all my eyes want to see. Your gently saldko-**** voice is all that my ears want to hear. The smell of your skin is all I want to breathe. I breathe only because you are near me. When you're near the heart of love knocks more. And the level of excitement from your beauty reaches the highest degree. About how beautiful you are and how I love you, that's all I want to tell you. Your gorgeous flesh and soul is all that your flesh and soul wants to feel forever. Your love is all I want to feel forever from you. You're so beautiful, just a sight for sore eyes. You are much higher than blue blood. I am only obsessed with you. You are ****. Cool babe. Unreal beautiful. Drooling flow in men only from you. Resist such as you are simply useless. Your sweet laugh, your **** smile, soft look, impeccable outfit, battles everybody in a row. You are the most juicy relish, sensual, tender, feminine passion. You are my love and soul outlet.
You are absolute, the highest *****. Eternal novelty. It is unbearable, excessively, supremely, beautiful, and only you look overly ****. You are in the highest stage of evolution, you are the most ideal, you are my idol, my ideal, the most true and authentic embodiment of beauty. You are the sexually ****** heat of love and passion. Your body brings you to the highest level of arousal. You yourself tenderness and femininity. You are 1 000 000 000 percent luxury, priceless, the only, eternal value. All the pleasant moments in life are associated only with you. Your sweet caresses and kisses are a very powerful drug. You are the most valuable gift of the universe. You are gorgeous in any kind of image frame, everywhere, always and in everything. You feel a surprisingly soft, sensual, tenderness. The beauty in your eyes is something amazing, uniquely beautiful, it is very beautiful fascinating magic. Very beautiful and indescribably pleasant feeling. Your amazingly beautiful image touches the most delicate and barely visible strings of souls easily and gently. By causing a special vibration of the true love melody, he finally falls in love with you.
So beautiful and bold, spectacular. 1 000 000 000 000 000 000 likes you alone and a sign of infinity to boot. The ******, ****** heat of love and lust emanates from you. You set a new world record for beauty. Which is impossible to achieve. You are a beautiful, socialite. You are synonymous with beauty. The eternal standard and *** symbol in the history of mankind. Absolutely beautiful. Every millimeter of your beautiful body is beautiful in you. The jaw drops and the gift of speech from such incredible beauty is lost. Just do not be offended, please forgive me if something is wrong. But from such a beautiful appearance as you have in men, a powerful ******* of the *****, guys and men end up in their underpants. Unlimitedly beautiful. Sexiest in the whole universe. So **** that you don't even need clothes. You are for the happiest and luckiest man in the world. You are a jackpot. Flash, full house. *** symbol.
You are synonymous with beauty and ideal. You are so beautiful just amazing. you have a direct view of a ****, sultry predator. You are the sweetest. From you comes a powerful, ****, ****** energy. you are indescribably beautiful. You're spectacular, juicy, ****. M, You sound cool, like a mega cool, percussive, lyric rap beat. As a platinum and gold vinyl record, you are a super hit. You are a bestseller of poetry and prose. You're my princess. Queen. The Empress Goddess. The ultimate creation of all universes, spheres and dimensions. I think so. To doge to what extent a girl can be beautiful. Just amazing. The queen of my mind and heart. Your tender image overwhelms my soul with light, beautiful love and lust. You have such a soft pearl skin. Your beautiful appearance forever and ever conquered my heart and my mind. You are the most beautiful of its kind. You are endowed with the rarest beauty at all times. Fashion model. Just the thought of you excites and falls in love. You are a masterpiece of nature and of God himself. Your infinitely amazing beauty, the rarest and most amazing, the most beautiful in the history of mankind.
The most desirable, silk, velvet skin, gorgeous, beautiful, always and everywhere. Strikingly beautiful, your **** body as if calls for kissing and licking, caressing, satisfying you again and again. You're too ****, hot flame of passion. You are the best prize, a gift that can only get a man, the best among all his lives. You are perfect and perfect. The more I look at you, the more I fall in love with you because you beat all the beauty and mind records, my super **** top model, everywhere in the first place in beauty and mind. In you, every millimeter of your body is perfect, with you all seconds are beautiful. The body shines brilliantly: luxurious chic, beautiful. The title itself is a beautiful girl in the world. The supreme creation of all universes. The finest children are born only with you. Aerobatics. Girl high hummingbird.
Your charming charm is a super **** mega power that is simply impossible to overcome. The sweetest gourmet, I adore your gorgeous body, when I see you, only one word sounds in my head: yum, I will completely give myself to you. I will always love only you unconsciously, unconsciously, your gently ****** image sat in the depths of my mind completely. From your amazingly contagious beauty, your mouth opens and you lose your voice. Dizzyingly, stunningly beautiful, you are like a giant tornado, from which everything attracts you. And the heart and soul yearn all the time only for you. It doesn't matter if you love me or not, the main thing is that I still love you, and in my subconscious mind, I will only love you forever. Your luxurious appearance of the highest quality, this is a workshop, the filigree work of Mother Nature, this is just a masterpiece that constitutes a unique example of true beauty, you have no equal, you are a girl of high caliber. You are absolutely beautiful to such a degree, so beautiful, so exotic, ******, and your image sounds poetic like very beautiful music of love that I’m just afraid and shy to come to you, I’m afraid to talk to you, as if standing next to a goddess, or with a super mega star, a world scale model that even aliens probably know. My heart beats more often, I can’t speak normally, from excitement, goosebumps all over my body, and it just shakes.
All these are symptoms of true love for you, well, just: oh), wow). To be your boyfriend and husband is the greatest honor in the world, he knelt in front of you with flowers in his hands. Your appearance is perfect just like Barbie. You are so beautiful that only you want to have *** forever, countless, infinite number of times. You are unattainable, you are like a star whose light of the soul, like a searchlight, illuminates me in the deep darkness of solitude. In love with you thorough. You are simply amazingly beautiful. You are the best of the best. Goddess of all goddesses, empress of all empresses, queen of all queens. More beautiful you just can not imagine a girl. Sexier than you just can not be anything. Beautiful soul just is not found. There was nothing more perfect than you and never will be, simply because I think so. Laponka, I am your faithful fan, you are my only idol, idol, icon of beauty. It doesn't matter who you are, I will accept you any. Because in any case I am eager to be only with you. You have a **** smile, and your sensual look is just awesome. And from your voice and look a pleasant shiver all over your body. You are special, the best that is in all worlds, universes and dimensions. You're just a sight for sore eyes. To you I feel the most powerful, love and ****** inclination. You're cooler than any ****** and afrodosiak. From your beauty just cling to the constraints and embarrassment.
**** Barbie, fell in love with you powerfully for sure. Wow. God, how beautiful you are, God, hell, let me see you, wow, this is just super, just super, my God, it’s necessary to what extent a girl can be beautiful, you're just awesome, just awesome, you're beautiful. My Goddess. About you, I will dream of all eternity, desire and crave only you alone. You're high, ecstasy. In your eyes there is some special fairytale beauty. Lady of my heart. You are the continuation of my soul. Billions of suns of joy, happiness, and love explode in the soul and this every time you see. With you every second is overflowing with the warm, divine, sunshine of true love, happiness and joy. You are like hypnotic sitar music. I would kiss your hands and feet every day. I want to constantly have *** with only one you. You are the embodiment of ****** and ****** passion. Only your skin color is infinitely exciting and falling in love. Your **** voice excites, and intonation falls in love. In you, literally everything excites. You are beautiful in any form, place, dress. If I see you, then the day is not in vain. Your image is powerfully falling in love. Oh meamor, goose bumps run through when you touch me, your breath stops when you look at me.
You're too beautiful. You are a **** lioness. You are the flame of sensual passion. You are a thermonuclear *** bomb. I admire your amazing beauty. You are amazing, perfect, you are perfect. I think so. Your flesh is sweeter than sweet. In bed, sultry lioness. The color of your skin is so ****, ******, and very attractive and beautiful. You have a rare and amazing beauty. You are the most beautiful in the universe, all universes, dimensions, all worlds. You are the supreme creation of nature and of God, the highest, perfect being. This is true because I think so.
Your charming charm is a super **** mega power that is simply impossible to overcome. The sweetest gourmet, I adore your gorgeous body, when I see you, only one word sounds in my head: yum, I will completely give myself to you. I will always love only you unconsciously, unconsciously, your gently ****** image sat in the depths of my mind completely. From your amazingly contagious beauty, your mouth opens and you lose your voice. Dizzyingly, stunningly beautiful, you are like a giant tornado, from which everything attracts you. And the heart and soul yearn all the time only for you. It doesn't matter if you love me or not, the main thing is that I still love you, and in my subconscious mind, I will only love you forever. Your luxurious appearance of the highest quality, this is a workshop, the filigree work of Mother Nature, this is just a masterpiece that constitutes a unique example of true beauty, you have no equal, you are a girl of high caliber. You are absolutely beautiful to such a degree, so beautiful, so exotic, ******, and your image sounds poetic like very beautiful music of love that I’m just afraid and shy to come to you, I’m afraid to talk to you, as if standing next to a goddess, or with a super mega star, a world scale model that even aliens probably know. My heart beats more often, I can’t speak normally, from excitement, goosebumps all over my body, and it just shakes. All these are symptoms of true love for you, well, just: oh), wow).
To be your boyfriend and husband is the greatest honor in the world, he knelt in front of you with flowers in his hands. Your appearance is perfect just like Barbie. You are so beautiful that only you want to have *** forever, countless, infinite number of times. You are unattainable, you are like a star whose light of the soul, like a searchlight, illuminates me in the deep darkness of solitude. In love with you thorough. You are simply amazingly beautiful. You are the best of the best. Goddess of all goddesses, empress of all empresses, queen of all queens. More beautiful you just can not imagine a girl. Sexier than you just can not be anything. Beautiful soul just is not found. There was nothing more perfect than you and never will be, simply because I think so. Laponka, I'm your faithful fan, you are my only idol, idol, icon of beauty. It doesn't matter who you are, I will accept you any. Because in any case I am eager to be only with you. You have a **** smile, and your sensual look is just awesome. And from your voice and look a pleasant shiver all over your body. You are special, the best that is in all worlds, universes and dimensions. You're just a sight for sore eyes. To you I feel the most powerful, love and ****** inclination. You're cooler than any ****** and afrodosiak. From your beauty just cling to the constraints and embarrassment.
I am obsessed only with you, my miss universe, I put madness billion points of your beautiful appearance, and a sign of infinity to boot. No offense, my sweetest, but your beautiful body excites, your imagination completely amazes you, you are so beautiful that you do not need, neither cosmetics, nor clothes, such perfect, natural beauty, only your divine beautiful body is endowed. Merge together the whole with your body, soul, heart, and mind, for all eternity I thirst. You dominate in my heart, mind, and soul, you are deep in my mind and subconscious, everything is filled only by you my goddess, and I see you in my dreams and I am sincerely happy when I see you in them. If I saw you in reality, then it was a happy day that was not in vain. Be with me dear, as you decorate with you all the eternity that I want to spend only with you one-on-one. You are my beautiful goddess of love and eroticism, and only I worship you. Rare, beautiful beauty, natural gave only you. The closer you are, the more beautiful. Your delicate skin shines so beautifully in the light, you have a stunning perfect skin color. I am overly in love with you. You are super beautiful. I tirelessly crave you, you are extremely, infinitely beautiful, you are too, too attractive. You're cooler than any ******. Impeccably beautiful, like a doll. You are so delicious. You are the light of happiness, the light of love and happiness comes and goes with you. You decorate everything with you, everything suits you, because you are beautiful.
You are stunning, fantastically breathtakingly beautiful, the only unique sample of the true, pure form of beauty. You are the hottest, **** topic, about the beauty of which it is impossible to stop talking, so beautiful that you want to sing out of love for you, the girl from whom it is impossible to take your eyes off. So amazingly beautiful, perfect, ******, hot, passionately savory, juicy forms, your divinely beautiful, endlessly, stunning beautiful, seductive body sound so captivatingly beautiful, sweet, gently voluptuous. Who wants to caress and caress, kiss, lick, stick to intimate places all the time, and give your tenderness with your hands, and bring it to ****** so that you feel the heat and tremor of your heated body, and kiss a satisfied body and kiss. Each cell of the soul and body is supremely filled with only you, love and excitement. Truly I am thirsty to belong only to you and to spend all eternity only with you alone.
I will be frank with you. Oooh yes, it says heart and mind. Eyes are eager to see you forever. Your image throws on the highest stage of love. Without you, life is meaningless and empty, and you know that for sure, so why are you torturing me. You know, I appeared in your life for a reason. That I was created only for you. You are special, I can not live without you. You are my obsession, my passion. Your beautiful image sounds so beautiful and sublime, the degree of love and arousal rises uncontrollably, leading to a higher dimension called love. When you stand next to me. Your ******, ****** image is the highest, divine, legendary *****. You are the sweetest in the whole universe. You are sensual, ****, ****** power. You are so ****** and **** to such an extent that when you look at the guys, it’s ironic that you guys, at the sight of you from excitement, end up in your underpants. You are the one whose appearance is envied by all people, gods, all higher beings, you are the only eternal value. You are a hipper, a turbo is ****, you are a hyperrealism of sexuality.
You have the most juicy **** skin color, it is so sweet, so beckoning and eager caress. You are the goddess of love, *** and erotica. Every millimeter of your body is just perfect and perfect. You are all that my heart and soul wants. Only your body and your kisses can excite me. Only to your body, I feel *** addiction. You are the highest value in my life. You are tempted and tempted, you want to have *** countless times. Your skin is the color of one hot, unforgettable night, your libido is the word lava in your hot body, burning passion, only your photos can excite me, only your beauty turns off my brain, you are a ****, ****** melody in my head, you are like a hot bath after a hard day, like an ****** massage, like a soft pillow with sleeping softness.
Every day I am drawn to you more and more and it can not be stopped because it is uncontrollable every day my ****** ***** wants you more and more aggressively he is waiting for endless *** only with you and I once again make sure that you are I will want forever and ever. Because I am truly in love with you in your body and soul. And this feeling is only enhanced with time on the mental and physical levels. Looking at you in the head is only one word Goddess, the empress of my heart, or one ***. It's just an ecstasy of excitement, every movement you take is so ****** and beautiful, burning your skin's passion and in your eyes so much ***.
You are a **** lioness. you are the flame of sensual passion. I admire your amazing beauty. You are amazing, perfect, you are perfect. I think so. Your flesh is sweeter than sweet. In bed, sultry lioness.
Author Musin Almat Zhumabekovich

Hip Service
By Julian Malek

The zeal of cobblestone tolerance arrayed in fashionable hues masquerading as crimson secrecy, elevates the tide of man but some boats leak in their foundations. Therefore a cork to every exuberance and a triumphant torch for every sorrow lives onward in collective time. Larks that abound because prescience and PUGET sound, that brown has become the new orange which in turn prowls as a concealed swarthy black. To antagonize the willful and frenetic pace, a prodrome of lasting but memorialized disgrace. Should I move to a state by first or last name, or is the final appellation worthy of much more lasting fame. I scurry down the aisles, bemused by shimmering tiles and the beguiled audiences who see much in my limitation but doubt little about my debited elation. Ringmaster Barnum, how much horticulture is needed for assured superstardom, how many cloisters must we evacuate from the incendiary plumes of a metaphorical Harlem..  But know that no virtual reality can supplant the reality that does truly exist, or at least our time is too infernal and purblind to resist. Carrey the tops of mountains in the humor of wellsprings and fountains, we engage a menagerie of egos lilting of an etiolated pragmatic concern. Evicted from paradise, littered with say-cheese demise ensnaring three blind mice eaten alive by snake-eyed vice. To feel good without incorporated tyranny, we must see blue and red as alternatives to the same destiny. A world that reckons with the futilitarianism of pacified malcontent and astroturf monikers that lead the impressionable into a slaughter shed. Established or not, any enchantment under the sea must include fishes once a pastiche of me, but to them I avoid their courtesy flush and never even faintly blush as my egalitarian statements are lavish thrush.

Five TO Won baby one in 99, everyone here aboard the titanic stays alive, you got your boat baby and I got mine, gonna make it with babies numbered in surreal primes. Halt the slots game the nines, a stitch in time is going to turn out to be Mine. Flanger goals, girded piles, liminal like an aborted Harry Styles, we climb mountains we issue tithes, and the turmoil is etched into 45-notched bludgeons and two-tucked knives. Excuse you, where have you been all day, have you been sauntering in a gentle rain or a genteel pain, have you wallowed beyond the mires of doubt and ranked above David Blaine. I hope you tell me of your magic tricks, rather than your other flicks endeared I stand to fight an ineradicable itch. But if not, you placid pond dented by so many rocks and so many ripples give your heart over to me, before I clinch the special Olympics *******, we ran, we span the homespun garments of your left and right hand, but death is a specter that ghoulishly carouses along the carousel terminal disease we call life. I beseech your deepest affection and want to console you for your deepest struggle, to be there every time wed with time rather than a throttled scuttle. Moons make you guarded but maroons leave me desiccated, don’t ever let that wilted flower die, always water it with a rich but gentle ties and widened deck for all to at once marvel and pry.  Monsters of Mars Attacks once flanked my bed, as though the **** brain scared every gooseflesh and restrained every frisson of mystery. I lampoon myself for those cold Dark Knights and the protection ended by the plight of the poor mattering nothing to the deliberately internecine rich. I struck gold in a valley somewhere, an oxymoron of paradox that now you have the privilege to dock, to stay aboard to be a vessel of peace less widely deplored. Even if we don’t sprout wings, we garner the exactitude of measured things and our glass elevator though easily shattered by the glower of enslavement is actually our vista to heaven or listening to brethren tingles for rich mans trinkets and other things. For humanity deserves a legend and a princess, a regimented desuetude and a flanged lust but in our mistakes wildly flouted in momentary moments we become purified by the temptations of an alabaster palace.

***** the left-field wisdom of a pragmatic paragon ellipsis in prison, slip between the cracks and let my suburban muse become your urban ruse. To enchant a caged world beyond a reality delicately and deliberately unfurled. Squirming toads on highways enchanted but dead, are graves for the blue becoming purple in every dignified red. Gainsay assaults me with platitude, a repeated hitter quit on the first bunted ball into foul-line territory. Those gripes are swiped right in all circumstance no matter the plight. The pronged hearing of a trident sensitive to ambient collection, and suddenly we are all in the mad house even though the house of profaned pain is much worse. Glimpses of gambits that gambol for nickels in transit as occult grenades and known dice waddle through without artifice or device, and the laughter and slaughter that trains collegiate minds, differs no more than the tropes of a glamorous violence articled in sordid rhymes. This surfing movie means so much more than Surf Wax America pristine in limited but sacrilege nirvana. Teen spirits smell muskier than 90s pop dreams, the grasp and grunge of gouged eyes becomes a mummified staid, a scarecrow to those who disobey. Childhood flashes with blinding light, and new sight illuminates darkening blight, A blight eradicated only by two magazines and including one that houses the bullets that ***** themselves between death and comatose dreams both within astral sight. Littoral harbor on a seaside town, a shanty with a brackish gown that glides the gourmand to the cosmopolitan eatery on the outskirts of lost & found. But forever lost in embonpoint and forever gained in chavish that exonerates the gaunt, the etiolated prince in heart becomes irrefutable marrow in minded souls.

If I am a spy you are an ESPY, and if I cry than you are a baby,but since neither are the case my wiseacres will cultivate lava lamp dreams for a new generation and suddenly Boston bets on Harvard, but who knows of this piped blather squirming for relevance rather than voguish but temporary chatter. My regatta knows how to swim, my life now knows how to cringe and yet still win and in stilted plays of bungled sincerity the God of peace reminds us of our transcendent personalities. That we in sincerity top the barnacles of invention a novelty but a rarity. But the guillotine quill of emboldened unscripted parvenus ruthless in their eager dues, outdate and outlive the sued swayed blues that indemnify Clinton and make the atomic dog an amazing Winston hill a church often in sheltered disuse. Imps and urchins sting the sentiment, cloy the alimony of repentant betterment, but neither touches the gilded skies of pleonasm striving for raspy disguise as to dissuade further diatribe investigation. Lurking in those scared days of youth, the gore of unalloyed horror scourged me with a limp, that compassion itself could ever become a gimp. Now years later athletics better and scoring goals making the mildew sweat and the years wetter, not a global warming that can be alarmed by global mourning. Take peace at heart if distanced spears of separation make Idiocracy as a pastiche look exceedingly smart. And spar only with the true antagonists bridging malevolence with expedience. Killjoys sure, will joy even more sure, but still boys fluttered heart stopping dead at a stop-watched alarm the worst tragedy of our sordid sort. Give an African Child a real home rather than a spatial roam, a palatial desiccation of momentary Jonas Brothers snapping back at captives with sexualized foam.

Narrative blinds shuttered in an Island among mountains hardly ever wiser to sanitize the sanitarium among the wasps of stung power. Police crumple their uniforms as they prowl down the avenues, looking for misfits and widened platitudes. Somehow that the vigilance of those corrupted by their very career choice, look even worse when megalomania of private is the limelight of public, to their defense few turrets I can muster but castles in the sky will be the apartheid judge. Those that cling to virtue to eradicate Porsche-driven faked or real deaths at the most breakneck speed, that Fast & Furious operation if disclosed completely would turn the Shire of the ring into the hatred curtailed by a song in Sing-Sing. Immunity must not Yoda implore, that livery Liverpool marooned on islands can also to deplore the R.E.D. and still whet the sharpened stead and the fly-by-night Manchester United alights like militant peer pressure for wranglers in tights. But beating the Beatles at a game of Walruses and egg-shelled eyeful towers likely impedes rinkside hockey from anything over bellicose ballyhoo…it exists as a transient fixated glower. But who knows about soccer speculation when love is the transcendent temptation, when nest-egg hens rather than neglecting rig Bens of clockwork and clocked words designed arise better for their token ken. Do I must repeat the subtext of submarines, yellowed as though ugly unused as though unseen, as though the quixotic earthquakes of tintinnabulations Avatar dreams. Wafted souls console the disheartened thoughts of a dashed dream that Berlin hates more than a Furor’s unbridled and useless scream.
Demotic clips slinging from the bedridden silence of a token moon and its token friends, swimming in a shore of ambiguity whether history mellows or whether its furor melts away momentary doubts. I want to avoid the sting rays exorcised by due providence and become the amalgamated talents gentry and of course the upstart swagger of Jack Dawson. But with the psy-op going on, the people manipulated on all sides of a gray picket fence will the relationship bloom without muttered dissent or pretended smiles. Will we take upon the shuffled shuttle and dig with shovels deep-rooted Christmas trees and toast our lives to Dos Equis. We may never go out of style, but the treacle of illuminated imagery when divorced from sentiment bristle shows a swagger that prioritizes rather than amalgamates all love. I love being brash and brazen and honest because when she finally ditches the grandstand of delayed frenemies fandoms of other tinsel decorations without any substance beyond meretricious thrill. You want a roller coaster on some days, but most often you want the nutcracker to elope to secret hiding places. Swim with adventure not just in love, not just in affection with the starlight now matter how luminous, sixpence all the richer is no centuries any poorer and we could be that gilded couple of star and screen and if we ever have to scream, let our screams unite us in passion, rather than a milquetoast deference to pedestaled beauty. but of course the end times don’t laugh at your crumpled wizened relapse. Not out of convenience wed by a discriminating genetic harvest moon but a deeper engagement that flatters when stylish and bristles when romantic but never defiled, never riled of specious pretense. Promise me that you will always remember me in my flaws and my faults, in my scause factory destructions and the penults of PEN-ULTIMATE wisdom that comes before the grace of God in the annihilation of passion for eroded omission. If your goal is to be remembered, check that out…but the most admirable goal is as the propinquities of souls dusted in the wind returning to a spring equinox of passion and if you find in yourselves reservations do not depart from sacred land, and never jilt me because of a boisterous and menacing friend. You are everything to me right now, and I Hope this persists despite the vicissitudes of star-favored afflictions mixed with utter benediction without the pontification of stilted Benedictines  or rather the hyped ludic effrontery of termagants being made of younger and younger women. Leave it at this ,32 leaves the royal secret in royal hands and the Knights Templar and us we altogether hold hands, if only a prelude for a masquerade ball. But the stilted embarrassment of crestfallen time, let that be relegated and emphatically lets embrace what is like to not ever need a real white horse to get back into your favor, because we never go out of style we can brandish the best elements and reject the sentiments of the too newfangled and the too stodgy. We in our crenellated pleonasm can eager ride the lightning to another tomorrow and another yesterday and if even not that, we virtually make an indelible impression of embroidered love not too distant in ivory towers and not to vulgary( catering to popular sentiments) to become a trash glam movement. We soar, others deplore but let their purblind doubts render them blind to our burgeoning love.

Forget the brisk trees dangled in the wind on winding paths through haunted forest or remember them because of ghoulish fortress but with our apotropaic lamp we can avert most evil and call the rest fun and gains and shun but fames never profaned, never inalterable a destiny to magical to be some whimpered catcall. Or we could linger beneath lambent street lights disguised as though wilted garb, attrition of circumstance waiting patiently for the matinee and the vintner to escort us beyond the garb of pretense in a city so abundant with it that it deserves castigation. But I digress, a beachside cliff overlooking tepid waters tumultuous in their power but august in their noises, the cadence of love will sing a half-moon bay on full-moon nights and we will frisk each other like grasping at straws of permanent tracks trammeled of the elite and a sidetracked basque bet. Trim those antlers and instead grow metaphorical wings, to us we all sing but few can match your elegance and everyone would be crazy not to see your ennobled age and together thrilling songs to emulate thriller in sales we will collaboratively sing.
Haughty sneers from lifeless lycanthropy straggling furtively along the pastiched sidewalks of grime, livid because they can’t share the lingering limelight, with as many guarded perks of privacy clambering like a hive of snarky sharks. Lets ditch the big town dreams in terms of posh and stature if only for a caressed moment beneath the unadulterated stars and if you find spars **** to the extent they are amiable than I say guess what my name is Lars! Or wait a second, paused in the big city spotlight our stenciled hearts will guide whatever progeny is yours or mine or ours together we will sing the most comforting lullaby, and caves no longer must we abide. Yearn and earn every inch, as I gripe with my delicate saddened pinch but I think the innuendo speaks . Ripen with our trips to Napa, long afternoon sunsets swim in our hearts as we taste the vanguard’s toast on elegant wine.I console with entreaty to disavow the omen of that San Franciscan church October 2008, the doom implied by Einstein, the raillery of a world grinding down the endless decadence of a railed future inalterable in destiny or partialy amenable to widespread coquetry.

Forget those rumbles in your past that made you feel partial to insecurity and learning the ropes you transcended all and live in all eternity. Thimble and brook, tolerant of all those tokes I took your rebellious side flattens the yeast of Exodus raspy in its begrudged clapping. But the Pharaoh of the modern world sheltered me under his prickly thorns, shielded me from the sickly things that life adorns. We have the numbers on our side, the weight of destiny on our shoulders, dedicate yourself to yourself and I will preen the most vibrant wisdom and love will leap like Apollo across all borders not for camel-****** hoarders. We are culminated destiny in the wings of the best daydream

The first time that Evan laid eyes on her, he told himself that he was going to marry her. Embarrassed by his own fantasy, he quickly dismissed that thought as fast as it came to mind, telling himself what an idiot he was. Yet, from time to time, in spite of his reasoning, the thought would invade his skull.

What a dumb idea anyhow! It was just lame, teenage fantasyland! Girls did that kind of junk all the time, saying they were going to be Mrs. So-and-so, and thank God nobody could read his mind to know what he was dreaming up! Like she would marry him! He felt like a dumb ****, great in athletics, but far out of her league. Not even having the courage yet to ask a girl out on a date, and now he was already thinking of marriage! Pathetic! Really! Only a freshman in high school, he felt he should know better, lacking the good common sense his dad always tried to drive into him and had himself.

Ginny Delgado belonged with the smart kids, the brains of the school, although she seemed to stick more by herself, away from any stereotypical clique. Evan had first seen her in his biology class, and he remembered when other students wanted to copy off of her test papers. She never allowed any of that to happen, though, even if it would gain her popularity, false popularity but attention just the same.

It was a surprise to him that Ginny seemed to have few friends. Mostly, girls who were nerdy and smart did not seem very attractive or put together. Ginny seemed to have it all. She was smart and pretty, but she never identified with any of the girls who thought they were hot—and all other girls were not—and so she stood apart as one who shrouded herself in guarded aloofness.

And now here he was at his 20th high school reunion, one he really did not want to attend, but talked himself into going anyway. Perhaps, he could shoot the breeze and run into a few old buddies, his basketball friends. He didn't think that much of Ginny since he graduated from Fillmore, much less anybody from all those years ago. There really wasn’t any reason to reminisce once high school was behind him. School was not misery for Evan Stewart, but it wasn’t a time where everything seemed magical and carefree, not like for some students who looked upon those days as some of the fondest memories of their lives.

It was the class of ’92, and a huge banner displayed across one of the walls read, “Welcome back, class of 1992! Fillmore High School rules!” There was a good turnout, and Evan recognized a lot of people, although there were fewer that he knew by name.  

Sitting under dimly light lights, around a bunch of round tables, Evan now sat with the other alumni, stuck in a crowded hall with music blaring away from the early nineties. He had his overpriced meal. He had his few beers.

But what now?

He was almost bored to death. He was beginning to watch the clock more and more, scanning the room to see if he could possibly find reason to stay longer.  But then something happened that he never expected to happen, never even would have imagined it.

And, suddenly, his heart started to pick up its pace.

Was that her?

Evan thought he had made out the vague shape of a possibly familiar figure, an amazing and sudden surprise. Was that Ginny Delgado?

He wondered if he was seeing things as he intently stared across the room at the shadowy prospective of Ginger Delgado. But with the low amount of lighting, it just might not be her but someone he never even met before. How awkward would what be?

If it was Ginny, she was sitting next to a guy who seemed obnoxious and full of himself. Even from afar, he appeared to be a guy who would be in everyone’s face, with wild hand gestures, talking away and giving nobody else a chance for a word in edgewise.  If that really was Ginny, was that her husband? What a trip that would be! All the sense he once attributed to her would have to have gone out the window, if that were the case.

Sitting at Evan’s table were several of the other guys that were also heavy into high school basketball. Most were married and came with their wives—nobody was alone as Evan was—and now they all tried to act like they were thrilled to be all gathered together to show off their accomplishments. They were all passing around stories of life after high school, after basketball—some with talk of their college days, their wives, their kids, their jobs and careers—plenty of drinks to go around, and some toasting to the good, old days and to even brighter futures ahead. Evan was never married and did not have any children, so he felt he had much less to say. Most of those guys were not even very interesting, even though they tried to make it out that they had achieved so much in their lives. They may have been out of shape and past their prime, but all of them tried to act like they were the same as they were twenty years ago. None of what they all said impressed Evan at all, even though he tried to be interested.

He kept looking at the woman across the room, and the more he looked at her, the more he was convinced he was spot on about her. She had to be Ginny! He should just get up now and have the guts to ask her! But what would she say? Yes, I am Ginny Delgado, and this pushy **** next to me is my husband?

Though he was twenty years older, Evan felt just as awkward and as scared as he did in his freshman Biology class. It was better to just let the issue be. He’d rather save face than look like a total fool.

Suddenly, the unexpected occurred, something that gave Evan’s heart even more of a stir than he initially had when he spied her presence. Was it possible? Ginny now looked like she was starring back at him, as if they had somehow miraculously locked eyes and she had an uncanny ability to notice him back, from that afar off, now being transfixed onto him!  

You’ve really lost it now. What do you think, that she really notices you and remembers you?

Ginny stopped paying attention to the obnoxious man beside her and kept looking in Evan’s direction. She even reached her hand up and gave a little wave out his way.

Timidly, Evan waved back.

Standing up, Ginny started to make her way across the room. The obnoxious guy next to her looked on after her, like he could not believe she had wanted to part company with him. Evan guessed she was not his wife—thank God for that!

No, there is just no way she is coming over to talk to you. Alright, maybe she is. Get a hold of yourself now! Stop acting like a teenager and act like you actually know something about women. Come on, Evan! Get it together! She is coming.

Evan was right. It was Ginny Delgado! But she stopped short of his table to sit a down at the table in front of him, next to another fellow classmate of theirs, a female student that he vaguely remembered, though he did not know her name.

It was almost a relief she did not come to sit with him! Yet the disappointment was equally there. Seeing her more up close, Evan knew for sure it was Ginny. She was still quite pretty, perhaps even more so now, her medium brown hair and her dark purple dress complimenting each other. Not wanting to stare, Evan couldn’t help but to shoot many glances her way, without trying to be too obvious.
          
She smiled a lot, glad to talk to another person that she knew, and probably glad to be away from the guy she was stuck with before. Her eyes sparkled, and Evan never remembered ever seeing her so unguarded. In biology class, she was quiet, like he tended to be. Now she seemed so different, seemingly freer to be herself. Evan rarely saw her smile in high school, but thought she was very serious and sophisticated.

Before long, the DJ was now playing Eric Clapton’s Tears in Heaven. Couples at all tables were making their way to the dance floor. Soon, Ginny was approached by some guy who asked her to join him for a dance. She shook her head, no. Nonchalantly, the man turned to the woman that Ginny knew and asked her. She gladly accepted, said something to Ginny as if to have her permission and understanding, and then took the man’s hand to go to the dance floor. Ginny remained at the table by herself, looking on at the dancers with seemingly little regret that she declined an offer.

This might be your only chance, idiot. Are you going to blow it and be a wuss? Go up to her and tell her that you remember her. Go on! It is your perfect chance. What do you have to lose? If she isn’t interested, just go then. You’ve spent enough time here anyway!

“Hi…Ginny Delgado isn’t it?”

Evan asked as he approached her from behind. He cleared his throat. His voice had sounded so gravelly, as if he hadn’t uttered a single word all night. And his heart was beating a mile a minute, and he swore it must have been pulsating through his shirt. He was glad he put his suit jacket back on, for he was probably sweating like crazy.  

Ginny looked up, seemed to look puzzled, but then smiled a little. “I remember you!” she said with growing enthusiasm on her face. “Oh, but I’m sorry. You are going to have to tell me your name again”.

“Evan Stewart”, he replied. “We were in biology class together Remember? We were sophomores.”

A succession of slow songs was now being played, and Ginny’s friend was enjoying the time with her new dance partner. She certainly was in no hurry to make her way back to the table to rejoin sitting and talking with Ginny.

“Oh, sure! I remember now!” Ginny exclaimed. “Evan Stewart. Of course! You were the tall, shy guy that everyone liked because you knew how to win one for us. You were big into baseball, weren’t you?”

“Well, basketball was my best sport. I liked baseball, too, and track”, he replied humbly. It was amazing! She actually remembered more him than he thought she would!  “

Can I sit down and join you?” he asked, his courage and confidence growing.

“Oh, do!” Ginny replied, eagerly.

He felt like he was in seventh heaven. How cool was this? Sitting with Ginny Delgado? It was a bonus to a fairly descent reunion.

“So what have you been up to for the last twenty years?” Evan asked. His face was flush with embarrassment, as if he was just a guy who happened to luck out, but had no real skill in socializing with a woman he once fantasized about.

Ginny laughed a little, putting her hand up to her mouth as if her response was inappropriate. She responded, “You want a few hours? Or should I just give you a one word response?”

Evan smiled, blushing, as he tried to appear smooth and confident. “A one word response?” he asked.

“Yes. I can say it in one word—roller coaster….oops, that is two words”.

They both just sat there as I Can’t Make You Love Me, by Bonnie Raitt, played on.  

“Yeah…I guess I could say that about my life”, Evan agreed. “Would you like me to get you something from the bar?” he offered. “A coke or a beer?”

Ginny stared out onto the floor, as if she never heard him. “Isn’t it amazing how everyone comes to see the same people they always used to hang out with and still intend to hang out with to this day?” she asked. “How boring and predictable!”

Evan looked at her, puzzled, “What do you mean?”

Ginny continued to look out onto the floor, the music now upbeat dance music, and said, “Well, I mean you see all the football heroes all hanging out with each other. The members of the debate team are all huddled together as if they are preparing for the next debate. The cheerleaders, the drama club, the science club geeks…nothing has changed has it?”  

Evan shrugged his shoulders. “I guess that is typical. But that isn’t me. Sure, I saw some of the guys I played ball with, basketball, but the truth is I am not really that interested in hanging out with them.”

Ginny turned to look at him, her hazel eyes intent and solemn. Evan added, “I don’t have any contact with any of them. Nothing against them. I just don’t”.

They looked at each other in the eyes for a while. The silence was awkward. It was as Evan’s watching and waiting for her reply was the cue for Ginny to open up, and open up she did.

“I went to UCLA on a scholarship. I became a history major, world history, American history, women’s history. I never intended to teach, not at first. But it just seemed a good fit for me, and I have had plenty of teaching jobs, junior high school, high school. I moved to Sacramento.  I was briefly married after I got my first real teaching job there.”

Ginny’s eyes glistened. There was a pain in them that seemed locked in deep, not really wanting to expose itself too much, but coming out nonetheless.

Evan listened on, eagerly, so she went on, her gaze towards the dance floor “It did not work out. He cheated. He did it more than once and with more than one woman.  And now that I look back, I can see how wrong it all was, especially after my miscarriage. At first, I was so crushed, and I wanted to try again, for another baby, to try to please him, Jim, my husband. Thank God, I didn’t go on and on with him. I am glad I came back here…..back to Springdale.”

She looked back at Evan. He quickly looked away from her glance, his eyes downcast to the table. She wasn’t kidding. Her life was a roller coaster. He did not know what to say, felt so inadequate.

He decided to just share, in return.

”I was engaged once. It was a long engagement. She was a friend of a friend. Lana was her name. She told me she wanted to be with me, but she just wasn’t ready to make the big leap just right away. Actually, I am kind of glad now that I look back. We both owned our own shops. She was a hair stylist and I owned my own car repair shop, but that was about all we really had in common. I mean not really, even though we both liked sports a lot. We never seemed to agree on anything.”

Like he did, Ginny just listened intently, not attempting to make any reply. Evan added, “She was willing to cut me down in a second. I see that now”.

“Well how do you like that?!”

Evan and Ginny looked up as the woman that Ginny came over to see arrived back from the dance floor. She was walking, hand in hand, with her new found dance partner, fanning herself with her hand and laughing.

“Ginny’s got some company, too!” she exclaimed, beaming at Evan.    

Ginny replied, “Rhonda Flemming, this is Evan Stewart. She used to be Rhonda Boehner back in Fillmore”

Ginny turned to Evan to introduce him to her old classmate. “Evan…Rhonda. Evan, I don’t know if you two ever met each other before when we all went to school”.

“I’m not sure I have, either”, he replied, extending his hand to shake Rhonda’s. Rhonda quickly grabbed hold of his and gave it an overly enthusiastic shake.

“Hi, Evan!” she exclaimed "This handsome man next to me  is Brian. I never knew Brian until he asked me to dance!” she said excitedly. “And I am newly divorced and so is he! How strange is that?”

Brian shook Evan’s hand and then Ginny’s. “How’s it going?” he asked, grinning with embarrassment at Rhonda’s forward frankness.

“Ginny is one of the smartest people”, Rhonda went on to Evan and Brian. “We were once partners in an English class. We had to write a paper about each other. That was so fun in an otherwise booooooring class. Remember, Ginny?”

Ginny rolled her eyes, and made a shooing gesture with her hand to convey that Rhonda did not know what she was talking about. “I’m not as smart as anyone ever thought I was. I just worked hard and did my best, but thanks anyway for the compliment” , she said, modestly.  

“Oh, you were, too, Ginny!” Rhonda disagreed. She had a gleeful glint in her eyes. “Always so serious, Ginny Delgado! “

Rhonda grabbed Brian’s hand. “Hey, Brian and I are going to go mingle and walk around and see what trouble we can get into. You two want to join us?  

Ginny and Evan looked at each other as if to say “No way!” Ginny responded, “I think we are just fine here, but thanks”

Rhonda winked at her and then tugged at Brian’s hand. The pair of them went off together, leaving Evan and Ginny to themselves.

Evan smirked at Ginny, and then they both started cracking up with muffled laughter. Evan paused and then burst out laughing again. “Where did you find her?” he asked. A tear actually began to run down his face from laughing so hard, and he quickly wiped it away.

Ginny stopped laughing, tried to compose herself, but busted out with even more laugh

Ever given an apology
when embarrassment
was your true feeling?

Is there space between them?
Or is one the wrapping paper?
Silverskin on coffeebean.
Parchment.
Ornate half mask on a dancer in all black
Between Pointed nose and chandileier
Same infastructure as churches
Decorated to make others look to god.
Up, with gargoyales and bells

If embarrassment is the root of an apology.
Does it ring?

What time of day?

Embassy of embarrassment is your apology.
It is no secret, it is kevlar.
Harder to break.

If you are never embarrassed.
You cannot be sorry.

pride and abandon
As honest as they are to a man
Who loves to love
Strike offensive on ears set
To red at your past.
Own the honesty like a magic shield.
You will not have the kevlar of apology
If you do not have the embarrassment.

You'll need to fake it.
This takes delicate work.
Convincing the world you are not selfish
When born in america
Is not easy.

Loving your own failure seems proof enough
To learn from mistakes
But intellect.
Is not the opposite of selfishness.
In abundance you carry both as a burden.

People see you as a man, honest.
People see you as a man, who was not honest.
People see you as a man, selfish.
People see you as a man, who would rather be wrong and manic than human.

And people see through sometimes the armor
Of your *******
And magic armor of your smile

Because you talk too much

When all you want is too be heard,
Your biggest weakness is when someone listens.

You are so powerfull when no one hears you.
And you are so seen when you never open your mouth.

But the second you do.
You are ugly.

Underneath the ornate white mask and pointed nose
Without the smooth pleasentries of a nirror for a face.
You are seen a bulbous boiled blemmish.
A red infected wound for an ear.

It hurts to hear their testimony
Wittnessing you when you are without protection.

This is not embarrassment?
You are not embarrassed to be seen an ugly thing?

And no.
It just hurts.
And the pain callouses, making it more ugly.
Until we got to where we are.

Indestructible in all this broken.
Untouchable from all this infection.
Unlovable from all this attention.

A greiving suit of armor

You have been with me from the start soft
Hard, never bothered which one you were
When I was young at heart.

I used to pull you my second brain, little soft
Then long and hard,as I grew, you grew with  
Me a friend that never left. Only in the cold I
Wondered where you are.

The years did pass and hair you grew, where
Once I had pulled, now you just went hard.
Embarrassed I was as always hard around
The girls, some laughed while others played
With it spitting at them when excitedly hard.

Age moved on my friend for life still with me
Still getting hard but when I wanted you no
More embarrassment on my face at random hard.

My second brain, getting wasted each day, never
Unclean as cheesy smell I do not want as girls would
Run a far.

We played in the wetness we have come so far letting
The children out in the damp park. My wife screamed
Harder deeper my god your big I love your hardness
Up me and the children were excited out of the umbrella
They went a bit to far.

You have been with me through the soft and the
Hard, got me in trouble, now three children later
I must end your spitting but you can still go hard.

***** your my friend to the end when we had no
One a palm and a video was are night in, then softly
You went as to sleep in my palm, from the beginning
Through the soft and the hard.

I'm leaving Carly's place after an all day ****** that had me convinced that paradise lay in the legs of Nate's sister wearing a unicorn onesie, and as they put on Sgt. Peppers and lay there the ****** freudian passion play overcame my capacity for archetype observation and I proceeded to walk around the room thanking everybody in that space and time for the gift of starting the **** with Nate's sister, the beat changed and they turned on me and said I needed to give her space, they all became timeless aliens traveling through time to **** and I was one of them coming online in a loop, and as long as I stayed awake I would remember and not be *****. I sat cross legged holding my friend sams hands, looking into his eyes, saying aloud we're creating the universe constructing all as the three smartest people of all time, forever throughout we died but never died, as long as we could stay awake, they all wore red and I couldn't trust any of them, I fired off mad questions and demanded to know the secrets of the universe and why woman wasn't the answer, I called up to nate to bring her down to me, and generally became a raving lunatic
      after some time of sam being soulmate and accepting him forever as my lover self same image, and also calling him ugly as im ugly, then channeling Brittany through him and countless other regressive exercises, we started inhaling nitrous gas, and the world became one stretched out moment
       and I kept calling out before, all the way up, as it were the secret spell with a handshake to fool the devil
         I thought Nate a mad spirit habituating this plane as a long gone failed hero plagued by the madness of wanting to **** his sister and forced to watch all his friends be aware of their own lust, so that pushed him into clowning, which he is an expert, that primal lust took me up and id taken a holy mandate to **** this beautiful creature and ascend to paradise,
when they slipped her upstairs they left her rainbow onesie, i felt heaven become another step remote and my faith tested, I resolved to be the last awake and never die, I walked up to the attic, and saw the light beaming from the window


            Sam dropped me off at the press grill so I could eat some grub,
then I met up with Tyler for a drink somewhere while he told me his story of meeting a guy in a skyline chilis bathroom drunk at 3 am, he said the guy was standing at the ****** but wasn't *******. Ty asked him if he was done and the guy put Ty in a chokehold with his pants down, according to Ty the cops came in and he was putting clean shots into the guys mug, he is contemplating leaving town before they can indict him for felonious assault, I told him Canadas nice but Venezuela doesn't have an extradition treaty, come to think of it neither does Cuba, but Ty is too proud for that probably
   anyways we meet Carly being a dancing beauty in a high falootin joint with string lights called Julep, the only reason to mention it is because as we were leaving a guy was bent over the rail vomiting and looking wretched he noticed us watching him as we smoked our cigarettes off to the side and immediately decided that he wasn't some kind of side show freak to be gawked at, he became threatening in the most base and pathetic way a human can, and his bride came to tell us to ******* with her father, father of the bride shaking my hand, we eventually left that scene and walked to Oddfellows where I saw Sam Cohan and he bought me a beer, good chap, we talked until I stepped toward Carly, Tyler and a fine looking strange *****
I touched Carly and received an awkward unmemorable introduction to the strange *****. She walked away but lurked and locked eyes with me as the evening rolled on
later Carly told me that the girl demanded to meet the guy who looks like Heath Ledger, a sure fire ****, so Carly is grinding on my **** and my backs to the bar and Tyler already got me a beer, and there I was, a pirate king
I took Carly out after the lights came on, and was going to give Tyler the run of my place, he disappeared into the night and I showed Carly my favorite smelling tree, a pink mimosa still in bloom late July, we almost ****** on my car, until I went back to her place and we ****** until $430, rising at noon, I left telling her we had an hour to get ready to journey to Findlay for Jim's wedding
I showered and brushed my teeth and collected my suit and put it on without a tie
I picked up Carly and set out upon the road, but made a quick stop for a bite
two deaf guys ordered in front of me and the kid working the register said my glasses were cool, along the way I was telling Carly the story of how I wore make up for the first time to a middle school dance, and she said she had to *****, I didn't believe her at first until she tried to stick her head out the window half way rolled down, I managed to get it down all the way and wet streaks of human gut waste caught the wind and splattered my window
we pulled over and I went to get her some napkins to clean herself off as I squeeged the car, she tried to wipe the window with the napkins, sweet girl. The wedding started at 3:30 and we didn't have more than five minutes to spare, she found her vape pen 20 minute out as Heather started to send me worried messages, as I was set to read a passage, little did I know that I was leading off the whole affair, I arrived and was quickly rushed to meet the mothers and have a boutonnière pinned to my lapel , the women all looked stunning and I congratulated each in turn as they shoved a program in my hand, Tiffany took me through the drill, we walked up to the stage and took our places on the bench, looking out at the beautiful shining faces,


I was the only one not wearing a tie, but thats not important, I saw Jim and embraced him with all the love I could muster, he looked at me and said that he knew I would make it, that he knew that he just had to trust the flow, and I would appear in the nick of time, the pastor threw his hands in the air and welcomed the families, the mothers lit candles, and then Tiffany looked at me and said that it was my turn, I stepped up to the Beema and gazed out over the crowd, trying to summon something clever, nothing good came to mind and so I opened my mouth and said, "a reading from Genesis" and then put every fiber of my being into reminding the room that it is Gods will that we be fruitful and multiply. I'm told I slammed my hands down for emphasis and let out a hearty amen, a man's man's amen, and turned and took one giant step off the podium with two baby stairs, I gracefully flowed into the bench having averted a complete embarrassment, and then tactfully left the stage with Tiffany after her read.   Jim looked at me after mine with a nod, and I said the word strong, that read cemented my status as a star of the party, and the mojo flowed, I was called the cash guy by the hotel, for checking in as Atlantis Grosshammer, $200 depost, we drank and danced and an old lady came to me to say that I have a beautiful soul
I thanked Jim's father for helping to create my friend, and danced around bottles
the cake was good
I told Carly I always catch the brides garter, at every wedding I've ever been. I saw Jim's men assemble for his toss, I let the men come and put myself in the mix, Jim turned his back and had a misfire,
the temptation to collect it passed all of us by thankfully, and he was set to fire again, it came to me and I snatched it out of the air, cold as ice I walked off the floor only with eyes for Carly not even saying a word to Jim, I put that thing on my head and went back to Jim threw him on my shoulders and swung him around like we were in a broadway musical
two kids playing in the street,
he said its the best moment, and so it goes

662

Embarrassment of one another
And God
Is Revelation’s limit,
Aloud
Is nothing that is chief,
But still,
Divinity dwells under a seal.

"You never finish anything."
Her words pierced my tongue.
I sighed. Hands on hips,
I looked at the broken bulb that flickered at me.

My foot started tapping.
Shifting my weight onto it, bent knee,
I looked sassy.

With the oven steaming, I started backing away.
I didn't like the smell, that's all.
"You're a failure, you know that?"
I knew it. She knew it.

People who met me could see potential,
but my eyes, they screamed disappointment.
I may as well have tattoo'd it on my forehead.

I'd wear it well.
Like Scarlett's letter,
imprinted for everyone to see.

A waste of time, she'd said.
That's all I was to her.
An embarrassment.

And she was right

When I was five,
my mother told me I was loved.
Years later, she asked me to leave because
I was the reminder of the gruesome past that haunted her.

When I was ten,
my father told me he believed in me.
Years later, he refused to accompany me because
I was an embarrassment to him in front of the society.

When I was fifteen,
my friends told me I was funny.
Years later, they all laughed at me because
I was the gullible teenager who fell for their flawless façade.

When I was twenty,
this guy said I was beautiful.
Years later, he trashed me, tormented me because
I was ignorant enough to overlook my inevitable flaws.

So, sorry for not believing in you,
for questioning your intentions, inclusively, in-depth
when you told me you loved me because
I didn’t want to wind up years later,
learning it the hard way that people often don’t mean what they say.

Somewhere between the age of 12 and 13
Kitty became a make up queen
Each time she turned up at the door
She’d more make up on than before
Her parents could not figure out why
She slapped it on, she piled it high
From orange ears to blue shaded eyes
From red lips to black butterflies
After a while her poor little face
Had more layers to it than a wedding cake
So she made some changes to her routine
Got up each day at four fifteen
Skipped breakfast, hopped in and out the shower
Which left, for make up, a mere three hours
This worked well for a little while
Until a teacher remarked she’d lost her smile
At which point in her heart she knew
She’d need an extra hour or two
To don her make up every day.
So she started arriving at school quite late
At nine at first, but soon midday
Light’s nice at that time anyway.

Then one day, a rather dashing lad
Offered to help her carry her bags.
Now Kitty thought he’d cussed her eyes,
So she slapped him and ran home to revise
Her make up routine, before she cried
And ruined her mascara.

Now this rather dashing handsome lad
Could not help feeling he’d been had
He stood there red as blush itself
And swore he’d fall for someone else.

Kitty meanwhile, back at home
Was swotting up on her skin tone
And trying every shade of white
To hide the scars of sleepless nights.
“I’ll teach that lad, that dashing lad –
I’ll be something he has to have
He’ll want me so much he’ll carry my bags
With weights in them that break his back!!!”
And with a slightly evil laugh,
Her plan was made, the die were cast.

We rejoin Kitty five days on
After a five day make up marathon
Her skin-tone matched, her bags are gone
Except her school bag, which weighs a tonne –
But at the school gate, something’s wrong
Hang on, where is everyone?
Oh Kitty, Kitty, oh Kitty cakes
That is an embarrassing mistake
You’re not early, they’re not late –
You’ve come to school on a Saturday!

Ablush with embarrassment and all alone
Kitty’s mascara ran all the way home
And all the foundations and eye-shadow pens
Couldn’t put Kitty together again.
But just at the corner before her own street
Outside the corner shop, who should she meet?
But the boy, not the boy, the rather dashing young lad
Who was sat on the fence by the shop looking sad
Looking sad, looking blue, looking ever so glum
Like it wasn’t that long since he last ****** his thumb.


At first as their paths crossed they were both destined
Not to look in each other’s direction
But luckily old cupid used light and reflections
To swap left and right with two moment's intersecton
The arrow was fired, the sightline was true,
Said the boy, "What a perfectly red shade are you!
Without your mascara, without those lips too -
You look even hotter than you usually do!"

"Am I bovverred?" Said Kitty, looking bothered as could be.
"Well you do look a bit bovvered if I’m honest," said he.
"Well I am a bit bovvered if I’m honest," said she.

"Why don’t we make up and then I’ll walk you home?"
"Then we can hang out and we won’t be alone"
"I’ll give you the pin to my blackberry phone"
"We’ll sync up our wardrobes and match our skin tones"
"I’ll friend you on Facebook". "I’ll call you at night".
"I’ll take you nice places." "I’ll treat you right nice."
“You will”, said Kitty? "I will," said he,
“But first let me start my repeating my offer
To carry your school bag if you can’t be bovvered.”
“My school bag said Kitty,” repeating the offer
“To carry one of my school bags if I can’t be bothered?”

Now this time, Kitty had understood right
So she took off one of her school bags, and put it down by her side
“Long story, don’t ask…” She said with a pout,
And she gave him one, of her bags, once she took the weights out.

Cafeteria
Slip
Trip
Crash
Click
All over the internet
*******

I’ve been conditioned
like freshly washed hair
for years
do not offend
unless the end of the sentence is “im sorry”
let the shoes and boots and heels of many make indents on you
like blueprints of demurity swaddled in insecurity
kept alive by the blurry ideas i once held about femininity
because i couldn't be a girl if the words that flew from my chords
were anything but rosy
ring around the Josie, pockets full of suppose he was to compliment your ****
when walking down a thorough-fair
busy people back and forth and grandmas with wrinkled sweaters
thank you
muttered from chapped lips and an even more chapped psyche
why must i keep my wits about to not risk making him angry
that was not complimentary but i am fearful he might spit my words back onto me
in the form of fists and slurs and honestly
im tired
of being the sidewalk beneath the feet of creeps
i am the sky and the trees and the moon
but i do not speak with the wisdom of travelling seeds
i speak with the warmth and subtlty of freshly microwaved milk
like soft silk i wish i could tatter
i wish venom soaked words could be spit in response to your “compliments”
but i would rather let you diminish me for the few moments it takes to objectify me
than to risk angering your inner beast and suffering the consequences of meninism or masculinism
whatever the word is this week
i will not be another number
ink soaked paper red with the monthly bloodshed of the sisters
every second is another unspeakable act
i see women
with tongues as round and large as planets
and tonsils the size of solar systems
birthing new galaxies in the words they speak
and shooting comets like fiery ***** of comebacks
when that slack-jawed fool sat and wished and drooled
into his monthly issue of mens rights magazine
she tore down the even minuscule belief he could have had that he had the right to comment on her body
in three seconds his pride, and entitlement
shifted into shame
and embarrassment
and i envy these women
because the only time i can take back my power
is when i am standing in front of a room
speaking rhymes and metaphors preaching independence and strength
to a group of people who now think i am a hero
i am not a hero
i put my shoes on one foot at a time
and i still manage to forget a couple days of birth control here and there
and i cant stand up for myself
in the moments after an attack i retreat into my latte and pray today will not be the day the male dominated society takes my power away
because i am small
and though i am growing every day
i still can only pray
that one way or another
i will be able to be as strong a woman as my sisters
my mother
and take back my power
and speak not with the beauty of a flower
but with the sharpness of a bumblebees sting
and one more thing
your compliments
are not complimentary

To be your favorite this is the honorary title of the world. You're great, legendary, grand.
I'm your fan, audience hall applauds you, bravo, bravo, bravo, bravo, bravo, bravo, bravo, bravo, bravo, bravo. Hats off to you. You throw flowers, and I'm telling you I'm yours and only yours, be always with you, I'm so happy to build next to you, I just adore you and have great respect for. You're the only one in the world, who I think every minute. You're like a girl from a fairy tale. I still do not believe that I have met such a wonderful girl. Your sweet voice is unforgettable. I like your gentle laughter. Are you so nice to spend time together. Your beautiful eyes drive me crazy. Your eyes are always fascinates me. When I'm around you, I'm on cloud nine. At the sight of thee my heart is filled with joy. Next to you, my soul is always singing with happiness. Such a beautiful girl like you, I'd love tenderly kissing hands and feet. Peerless, darling, precious, smart, impressive, you are the most valuable part of life, the most precious, most beloved, best. Good, very beautiful, friendly, sincere, feminine, fascinating, shy, gold, amazing, loving, wise, unique, irreplaceable, charming, charming, seductive, charming, attractive, pleasant, simply delicious, fluffy, lovely, hospitable, touching, soft. To me, you're a very **** girl, believe me, you **** goddess, in which lies the passionate nature, so gentle, so sensual. Alluring to her subtle beauty, so amazing, fascinating, magical beautiful, charming, attractive nymph with which you want to be forever. I'm in love with you, and enthralled by your beauty, you're my idol, you're perfect, I dream to be your early days when you first met, you are the most beautiful creatures in the universe. I think about you day at night. You're gorgeous, perfect from the tips of the fingers to the very tips of the hair. I love your gentle eyes, your luxurious sensual lips, your **** nose, your delicate silk hair, I love you, and I can not live without you, and I give you the beautiful wings, which will allow you to fly, looking up from the earth, they will give you good mood. You are my angel. You are my happiness, treasure. You are my Love. I'm going crazy over you. You're the girl that I always dreamed that I was looking for all my life. You're the girl of my dream.  I) I love you, looooooooooveeeeeeee youuuu)
Your charming charm - it's super **** mega power that simply can not be overcome. Gourmet sweetest, love your luxurious body when I see you, just one word sounds in my head: yum, you give yourself fully. I will always love you just subconsciously, unconsciously, your gently ****** image is set down in the depths of my mind completely. From your amazingly contagious beauty opens her mouth and lost the power of speech. Dizzying, amazingly beautiful, you're like a giant tornado, which all attracted to you. And the heart and soul yearn all the time just for you. No matter you love me or not, the important thing is that I still love you, and in my subconscious, I will only love you forever. Your luxurious appearance of the highest quality, it is a workshop, filigree work of Mother Nature, it is simply a masterpiece, which is a unique example of true beauty, you have no equal, you have a high-caliber girl. You to the extent absolutely beautiful, so beautiful, so exotic, ******, and poetic sounds your way is a very beautiful love music that I'm just afraid and embarrassed to come to you, I'm afraid to talk to you, if I stand next to the goddess, or with super mega star, a model world-wide, which probably even know the aliens. The heart beats faster, I can not speak properly, with excitement, tingling all over his body, and just shakes. All these are symptoms of true love to you quite simply: uh), wow). Be your boyfriend, and her husband is for the greatest honor in the world, I stood in front of you on your knees holding flowers. Your appearance is perfect, just like Barbie. You're beautiful to such an extent that only you and I want to have *** forever, infinite, infinite number of times. You are inaccessible, you are like a star, the light of the soul which is like a spotlight in my deep dark loneliness. In love with you thorough. You just amazingly beautiful. You are the best of the best. The goddess of all goddesses, Empress of all the empresses, the queen of all queens. Beautiful girl you just imagine it is impossible. Sexually you just can not be nothing. Prettier souls just do not find. Perfect you had nothing, and will not, simply because I think so. Laponka, I am your loyal fan you're my only idol, idol, an icon of beauty. It does not matter who you are, I'll take you any. Because I'm thirsty anyway only be with you. You have a **** smile, and your sensual look, he is simply amazing. And from your voice and look pleasant shiver throughout the body. You're special, the best there is in all the worlds, universes and dimensions. You're just a feast for the eyes. To you feel powerful, love and ****** desire. You steeper any ****** and afrodoziaka. From your beauty a tapeworm from embarrassment and embarrassment.
I'm obsessed with only you, my Miss Universe, put points bezumilliard your beautiful appearance, and the infinity symbol to boot. No offense, my sweetest, but your beautiful body excites the imagination of your way completely amazing, you're so fine that you do not need, no makeup, no clothes, so perfect, natural beauty, endowed with a divine your beautiful body. Merged with your whole body, mind, heart, and mind, for all eternity, I thirst. You dominiruesh in my heart, mind, soul, and you are deeply in my mind and the subconscious mind, everything is filled only you, my goddess, and I see you in my dreams and I sincerely happy when I see you in them. If I saw you in reality, so it was a happy day, which was not in vain. Be nice to me, as you decorate all eternity, that I want to spend with you a tete-a-tete.
You are my beautiful goddess of love and eroticism, and only you I adore. Rare, beautiful beauty, nature gave you only. The closer you are, the more beautiful. Your delicate skin is so beautiful when the light shines, you have an amazing perfect color. I'm in love with you over. You are super beautiful. I thirst for you tirelessly, you prohibitively, infinitely perfect, you are too, too attractive. You steeper any ******. Flawlessly beautiful as a doll. You are so appetizing. You are the light of happiness, you come and go the light of love and happiness. Do you decorate them all, you are all, because you're beautiful.
You are more beautiful than the most beautiful. Merge forever with thy spirit, and the inner world of your dreams, my lonely soul. See the depth of your I wonder. Whatever gift you my eternal devotion: you are my life, and my eternal destiny, you are my only right choice, you're all that I love, and I want to. And my heart, and my mind is open only to you. You look so romantic and beautiful, your charm, your charms beckon my mind to you, it is useless to resist you, they can only be fully comply, one to commend you. My legs are just for you, my eyes look only at you, and I focused only on you. All you just overflowed in me. And inside, out of love for you, incredible, absolute ease. And from that you're not with me, it hurts the heart of almost any heart attack. Earthshaking, I totally fell in love with you, beyond ******-poetic, beyond ****. Yeah right, you're my Empress, and only you I adore, look at this temple of my love, dedicated to you, to the great altar, look around you everywhere, sit on the throne of love, my great and beautiful goddess. Your every kiss is indescribable and priceless, it is vital needs. Every your opinion, fantastically romantic and touchingly beautiful. He kindles the fire of love and passion in men. Your charm - is a powerful force that attracts all and sundry. Awakens the true, sincere love for you, universal scale. This throne only to you the eternal praise and worship the one, and the chorus singing about your beauty just for you. As you perfect every millimeter of your perfect, sultry-hot-**** body. My world is unique in your beautiful eyes, in your feelings and emotions and not get tired of talking about your perfect proportions.
Author: Musin Almat Zhumabekovich

Christ, people
you're all an
utter ****** embarrassment.
you showed great promise,
in those early days,
crackign skulls with stone clubs,
howling at morning suns,
filthy and *******.

but you've only gone and lost the bleeding basics, haven't you?
you don't **** on your territory- what territory?
some big old boy called 'government' has been ******* all over you,
and you applaud like a foolish clown.

you clip your nails with metal, out of necessity,
because they're not being ground on rock
in the fling and throes of the hunt.

you've become terrified of dirt, and the possibilities of the body,
you can't even stomache your meat raw. pathetic.
meek and obsolete, wandering lost and lonely.
you've no pack instinct, and pander on and on and ******* ON

about 'love.' what a villaniously clean word,
not even a scratch of dirt, no delving in warm pink orifices,
filthy and *******

you may be top dog, but you've lost the dog, and are falling from the top.

As Lewis walked up to the door, it strangely felt like he had been here before. But he hadn't. She had moved here three years ago, and he never saw the place. It smelled like Nina's home alright, though. The faint whiff of hydrangeas, of roses, and of other flowers caught he keen nose, and he breathed in deeply and smiled reassuringly to himself. The he became serious, as if he had no right to smile.

Was this the right thing to do? He hoped so. Time would tell. It felt as if it was almost yesterday, instead of six years ago, as he knocked on her door.

After a few knocks, a minute or two, Nina opened the door to her house. Someone had to be home, for there was a car in the driveway. As she looked upon him, Lewis expected her to slam the door shut in his face, but she also acted as if she had just seen him yesterday. And it seemed like no big deal to her.

Without much emotion on her face, she left the screen door shut, but she kept the inner door open. Walking away, it was like she expected him to follower her non-verbal lead. He did, hesitantly.

In the kitchen, Nina poured him a cup of coffee. "You hungry?" she asked him. "I am about to put some cinnamon roles into the oven. I'm going to open up a can from the fridge."


"Oh?" Lewis responded, trying to be nonchalant, trying to hid the nervousness in his voice. "Not from scratch?" His heart was practically beating out of his chest.

Nina's back was towards him. She was finishing some dishes in the sink. "Yeah, I know I was always Betty Crocker. But I'be learned to make short cuts, and it tastes just fine. Makes life easier to not do everything like Grandma did it."  

After she separated the rolls apart, and stuck them into the oven, she just kept going about her business. She started to open some mail and sorted the items into piles of importance and priority, and into a pile that could wait.

Lewis was shocked. He couldn't believe her composure. After a while, she turned around, leaned against the counter top, and she acted like she didn't have a care in the world. She didn't look one bit stressed, angry, sad, shocked, disgusted--or anything.

Finally, Lewis said, "Nina, I don't get it." He felt itchy, and tense, as if he could scratch his skin off, as if he was waiting for a bomb to drop. "Why aren't you telling me to get the hell out of her...to go ***** off...or call me every name in the book."

Nina just looked him up and down. He began to chuckle, nervously. "Come on, Nina! I am surprised you just don't grab that pan of hot rolls in the oven, and whack me in the head with them!"

In response, Nina still said nothing, acting as if nothing ever happened.

Becoming quite unsettled with her unexpected composure, he went on. "I mean...come on..scream at me. Cuss me out! Slap me! Punch me! Something, for God's sake!"

Nina raised an eyebrow, and tried to resist smiling. She was waiting patiently for him to explain himself, not to go on like this. "Is that what you want, Lewis? Is that why you came her? To beat you into oblivion with a pan of hot cinnamon rolls?" She didn't try to make him look foolish--he was doing a good job of that on his own.

Lewis turned red in embarrassment, and started to smirk. "Well...yeah...would make more sense to me."

The timer went off and the rolls were done. Putting her oven mitts on, Nina pulled them out of the oven and let them cool on top of the counter. The silence was eerie, awkward.

She poured him another cup of coffee, and finally addressed the elephant in the room. As he still looked up at her, dumbfounded by her, she said, "Lewis...if you have the ***** to come here...than I can certainly let you in and hear you out."

With that said, she filled a plate full of rolls, places them in the center of the table, pulled out a chair and sat down across from him at the table. "I'm listening", she said, her expressions still low-key. Yet Lewis thought that her eyes and mouth seemed ready to mock him, positioned to put him in his place. His guilt wouldn't allow him to think, otherwise.

Why would she serve him food and coffee? Why not just get it all into the open and demand that he spill his guts?

Lewis didn't want to beat around the bush any longer, but spoke plainly in his confession. "Nina, what can I say? I'm an ***." She didn't nod her head in agreement, nor say that he sure was an ***, yet a "look of  suspicion was growing upon her face.

"OK, OK", he went on. "I should never have left you--of all days! What a frickin' wimp! I should have manned-up and told you I wasn't ready to get married. Instead, I stood you up at the church...of all places...in front of your family...your friends. A complete no-show--I made a mockery of that day! It was supposed to be one of the best...and I made it the worst! Some in my family haven't really gotten past it or have forgiven me. Not fully. A few barely talk to me. My best friend, Steve, thinks I'm a *****--a dumb fool!"

Nina sighed with relief. This was what she wanted to hear. The tears started flowing.

Lewis told her, "So I just don't get it. I don't get why you are not furious with me! It just blows my mind!"

Lewis grabbed for another cinnamon role, and Nina handed him a napkin. She wasn't crying anymore, and he was glad. Why was she being so nice though? So hospitable? Did she have something up her sleeve? Did she mean to get back at him? Maybe poison in one of his roles? Lewis had to laugh at himself. Actually, that might alleviate some of his guilt right now.  

Picking at her role, Nina explained, first more sharply. Then she was soft in speech. "It's not all about you, ya know! Look, Lewis, don't think that for a moment that just because it is more OK now that it was OK back then! Well...I guess you already realize this. You see, I'm different now...changed...grown a lot since. I did a lot of soul searching, lots of growing."

"I can see that. It's wonderful."

"And I wondered what I did wrong...at first. Then I hated you, blamed you. I wished that I never said I would marry you. I did plenty of screaming at you--plenty. I bring things in a rage--mirrors, a clock, a dish or two--bruised my fists up pounding things."

She paused and continued, all the time looking at the intricate, lace doily on the center of the table, under a vase of fresh daisies. Finally, Lewis saw the gamut of emotions. In one moment, her face would pinch in frustration and anger. It would then evolve into a soft sadness, and other emotions within.

"Wasn't so composed about you back then, Lewis. Let's see...I swore at you. I wished you were dead. I ripped up every picture of you...put some in the shredder, wishing they were you, instead..prayed that you would die. Bitterness isn't event he word for it. I thought you were the worst thing that happened to me, that you ruined my life forever. I cursed you up and down, Lewis. I'm sure I even invented some new curse words."

That was enough said. She looked up at him and slightly smiled. Lewis smiled back, for at least she felt real to him now, quite natural. She admitted, But I think I cried far more than I hated you. I still loved you."

Lewis wanted to sit right next to her and hold her. "Oh, baby...I'm so sorry..."

Nina quickly interjected. "Honey, you weren't ready for marriage. We were both young, only in our mid twenties...we thought we had it so together. It took me a while, but I finally realized that you needed to find out who you really were, came to that conclusion for a while now. And, boy, did I need to get to know myself more, too!"

"No!", he insisted, emphatically. "Don't make excuses for me! I did not do right by you!"

Nina reached across the table and put her hand upon his. "It seemed like hell at the time, but I needed to learn about me, too! Crazy as it sounds....if it did not happen...I never would have..."

She stopped short. Lewis had tears in his eyes, and one began to roll down his cheek. "Met Gary", he said, finishing her sentence for her.

Surprise flashed across her face. "You did your homework!" Nina stated. She was quite impressed and smiled.

"I wanted to know what happened to you", Lewis responded. "You probably wonder why I didn't walk away for good. I intended to....but you deserve some answers, and I'm here to give them to you. Sure, I could have walked away, and stayed away. I could have saved myself the embarrassment of facing you, again. I could have pretended to have some dignity left."

"But you do have some dignity left", she insisted, sweetly. "It takes a lot of courage to do this. I'm glad you did."

"Are you happy now? I mean...I hope you are."

"Very."

Lewis didn't even have to ask. He could already tell. They sat in silence for a moment. Nina finally said, excitedly, "Gary's a great guy! We both love art. We both love nature, the outdoors, to travel.  He loves other cultures, and learning other things--like languages." Her face was beaming with pride. "Gary is trying to learn Portuguese and brush up on his Spanish. This year ,we are planning a trip to Portugal and Spain!"

Nina always did keep a nice home, and she decorated it with art that was acquired from different places. Where Lewis didn't have a sense of what looked good, she had a good sense of style. When they were both together, the talked of going to different places that they never traveled to--Africa, Asia, Australia--backpacking across Europe. They were big dreams.

Nina did not want Lewis to feel punished, but his agonizing expression of remorse would have been punishment enough. It already was for him, and it showed his sincerity.

"You know how I met Gary?"

Lewis shook his head. "A support group for divorced people! she admitted, gleefully, as if that was the most amazing thing to say.

Lewis looked embarrassed. Perhaps, he misunderstood her.  "What? For divorced people? You were never married before Gary, were you?"

Perhaps, there was something she wasn't telling him. Nina burst out laughing, seeming so carefree as she threw her head back and clapped her hands. Her laughter was beautifully contagious, and Lewis loved to hear it. "No, of course not!" she said. I have no secret past before I met you...or even now. It's just that a divorce support group was the closest support I could get. After all, there are no support groups for jilted brides and grooms!" She laughed even more.

They were talking so easily now, getting along so well. But why? It still seemed so surreal. Lewis laughed along with  her, as if this was just an encounter  to revisit the good, old times. When hearing of Gary, Lewis felt the pain of his loss, as well as some jealousy rise up. As if he had the right!  

He truly was an ***! He never deserved her!

Nina soon became serious, again. "So did you just come here to say you were sorry?" She was thinking he wanted something else from her, something else to say.

Lewis was once poised to take off in a real hurry. Now, he felt more at home. "Yeah...I came to say I was sorry to you...hoping to stop feeling sorry for myself... I guess. I'm wishing I could just turn back the clock. I swear I'd do it all again, differently."

"But the past cannot be change, and we both know it", Nina stated, resolutely.

He nodded in agreement. She didn't burst his bubble, for to think otherwise was a childish, fantasy.

"I don't know what else to say, Lewis". Nina's eyes reflected sorrow, not pity. "Life does really go on...if we let it. We have to let it, though." She now turned the conversation onto him. " So how about you? I hope you have some good news to tell me, something in your life."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I've had a few, short relationships", he admitted. Where there any displeasing looks on her face? Lewis didn't notice anything, now. "Not all that bad, I should say. But I just don't want to settle down until I finish my Masters in business. I'm nearly done."

"Good for you! That is great news!" Nina truly was glad for him, and it just showed him what a great woman she was. But then Lewis already knew this.

"Are you still teaching?" he asked, hoping she was, for she strove for the job, and loved it so much.

"Yes, I teach kindergarten, and Gary teaches science at Darland College."

"Well, what do you know? Both teachers. That sounds like a perfect match for you. And what about kids? None yet?"

"In time...sure. We just aren't ready right now."

She offered him more coffee, but Lewis declined. He was thinking he should go soon.  He said. "You know we used to talk about having a boy and a girl--and in that order, too!"

Nina rolled her eyes. "Yeah, boy oh boy. Like we had complete control over it".

They both laughed. It was fine to reminisce, and they did for a while, Lewis realizing that this would be the last time. He lived three hours away. And why should he come back? He did what he set out to do.

Nina would tell Gary about the visit after he came home from work. As husband and wife, there were not secrets between them. Nina was sure he would be surprised,f or his ex-wife never came to apologize for the pain she caused him.

"Gary's wife had an affair on him, and then left to marry that man", Nina revealed. "Thank God there were no children from that marriage."

"Wow, that is ******! Thank God I never did that to you!. I would have never cheated with another woman...or I might never have tried to face you. It would be easier to slink back into the ditch and stay there! This is hard enough as it is!"

"Maybe so, Lewis. Maybe so." Nina quickly added, "You aren't a bad man. I know this and I wholeheartedly mean this, so don't keep beating up on yourself. I've forgiven you for everything. I forgave you then, and I forgive you now. "

"Nina, that means everything to me!" He started to choke up, and more tears came.

Listen, Lewis. You need to forgive you, too."

He lowered his gaze, as Nina held his hand and gave it a squeeze. Never was Lewis so contrite before. Like many men, he never was overly emotional, and so this different side of him was a refreshing experience.

"Yeah,  it's time to move on", he stated, using a napkin as a tissue.

"Yes, it is. And I loved what you did. It was helpful for us both. It's the closure we need."

"Yep", he said, wiping away more tears.

"You are a guy with guts, Lewis. you do have courage, and more integrity than you think, and I hope you see it."

Nina offered him more coffee, and he accepted. Why couldn't they chat a little while longer? It was no harm, and it made the visit even more meaningful. Sitting and shooting the breeze more was not a bad thing.

The kitchen still held the fragrant smell of cinnamon, as they polished off more rolls and spoke more of good times.

I don't care who said crying was overrated, who gave you the ******* right to control the tear ducts of another human .

A human shows emotion through tears , laughter , smiles. The human face has 24 different emotions yet the water stains on her cheeks was never stated as one .

The stains of mascara running down her cheeks , dripping on to neck , her nose sniffling up the excess embarrassment .

I told her to stop trying to be brave , she had to embrace each feeling as it came , I saw her chest heave up and down in a rapid movement so fast I couldn't keep count.

Her mouth was open , no sound came out , she looked like a fish out of water and person screaming but no sound .

Her hands started to shake her body soon followed next I held her close put her head in between the crook of my face and neck .

I felt the water dripping down my neck to my top I never said a word , never told her to stop.

Even though I just changed my sheets that day I never told her to man up because crying is a source of speech when words are not enough .

She had so much emotion and all she could do was mutter incoherent words ,I think it was " I'm sorry" .

Sorry for what I will never know , she never once asked me to let go and I never did .

For once in her life I gave her an embrace even though she refused because if she didn't feel my comfort I'm not sure what she would do .

I did it because when I need that embrace they all refused to give it , they told me to " **** it up" " be ******* brave" , I soon  found comfort in smashing my fist against my bathroom mirror and throwing my mothers jewellery box outside in the rain .

I stopped and I jumped in the mud that had formed and that was when I promised myself , if another person needs my embrace no matter who it was , I sure as ******* hell will give it because crying alone is just no good.

It's no good that others can't see your pain , I encourage you to throw a fit and call names , call them all ******* ***** tell them how worthless they are that when you needed comfort he would rather go sit in the car .

I want you to scream , yell and shout with the tears streaming down your face , show them what expressing yourself is all about.

Darling don't ever hold your tears in , wearing mascara or not ,just always keep a tissue tucked in your sleeve, and wipe your eyes till they are raw with the courage that they need.

I wear beads and  African bracelets for beauty. I forget why the people before me wore them. I wear them with pride not because I earned them but because I simply look beautiful. Beautiful!? What does that even mean? My Nana has scars on her body. She shows them to me with pride. Narrates stories of the war in the past like an action movie only she didn't have a gun only bows and poisonous arrows. The missing teeth in her mouth causes her to spit almost every second she talks. But this embarrassment is only felt by me. She is proud of the hole in her mouth. Suddenly I feel the urge to remove my African beads. They have no meaning only that they are African and I am and so am entitled. But I have done nothing for my heritage. Not even fight for it. Slowly it's being forgotten and people are crossing over without a care in the world. 'To civilisation' we say.  'For the good of the people' we say. But is it? We were a community wrong as we were to circumcise women, marry them off at an early age, burn the wrong... We were a community. We loved each other. We cared. We taught our children how to feel and be the earth. We taught our children to respect the earth and in return the earth blesses us with herbs to cure. What did they call it? Aaah yes 'witchcraft'. We were not animals who forget their children in  pit latrines or by the river side just because we cannot afford them or don't want them. We cared not of individualism because together we grew in spirit, body and soul. It was not backward it was culture. And culture is flexible. It can change but can never be terminated. It is not a shoe that when you grow out of  you throw and buy another.
And so I am not telling you to go back to your roots because if am quite honest you were never in it. Rather embrace it. See how 'civilised' you will feel then.

yours
The Red_Head

Sympathy I feel for those who haven’t seen what I’ve seen, and for those who have felt what I’ve felt. The embodiment of my regret, shining with all the light once saved me, now engulfs me in torment of my mistake. As I orbit in harmony with the rotation of a green star, that is much more than just a green star, I ponder what my life would be if I still had my green star. I know that in time, this green star that means everything and more to me, will collapse and perish, but we will only be able to see the star frozen in time, that very instant before it collapsed, desperately clinging to one single moment. I still cling to that moment, the moment I saw my soul break free from the chains that I thought would hold me down perpetually, in her eyes. I don’t quite know how it happened, I wasn’t looking for it, I wasn’t on the make, it was the perfect storm, I said one thing, she said another, and the next thing I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my days in the middle of that conversation. It’s painful to admit that I ruined the most precious friendship I’ve ever had, which tends to sting more when she was the only genuine friend I’ve ever had. I prefer solidarity most of the time, but that doesn’t mean I don’t long for a companion every now and again, but lately that desire grows stronger and stronger, holding on to the memory of the companion I once had and lost. My life on Earth, my past life, would be considered prosperous; I was one of the top aerospace engineers in the world, which is a very time consuming and painstaking practice, but exploring the unknown territories of the universe had always been my passion. I didn’t have much of a family, my mother and father passed away when I was 22 years old, and my brother and I severed ties shortly after the death of our parents, and I had not desire nor time for a significant other, let alone the willingness to dedicate my life to another person. I always believed that I embodied the definition of misplacement, I never seemed to fit in any particular group of people, nor with any other person, really, I enjoyed getting lost in the sea of my thoughts, riding the waves, pondering ideas, asking questions that can only be answered in theory, which essentially renders me incapable of interacting with others. However, being your own best friend can sometimes lead to psychotic thoughts of self-loathing, and eventually the last straw broke the backbone of my perseverance, and I convinced myself to commit suicide. Originality and pretentiousness ****** me, demanding myself to end my life a way no one else’s life has ended, and my imagination spiraled into a storm, brainstorming my own demise. My most recent endeavor at the time was to manufacture a personal bubble that would sustain in space, and condensing a spaceship into the size of a smart car was the threshold between my pathetic life of this planet, and self-destructive glory. After a year of an extremely unhealthy intensity of research, my talisman of my soul, my most cherished invention, my cosmic coffin. I traveled from my home in Anchorage to the highest point in Alaska, Mount McKinley, and inserted my body comfortably inside my space bubble and proceeded to ascend into my eternal salvation, ascending towards achievement of my life’s dream, ascending the edges of space, where no human has ever occupied in history. The butterfly feeling in my stomach, caused by the sheer joy I felt, is probably the closest feeling I had ever felt at the time to true love, the irony of my affection for death. As I slipped past our atmosphere and found myself floating closer towards the stars and planets, I sat down and enjoyed the galactic show of entropy before me, and after a while the visual melody put me in a hypnotic state, and before I knew it I was being stated down by a saucer shaped spaceship with luminous blue lights encompassing the round edge of the ship. I felt my capsule gravitating towards and entering the ship through a small hole on the underbelly of its structure, that appeared to look like a portal. As I passed through the light I was being observed by a feminine looking blue creature, with bright green eyes that sparkled like emeralds in the moonlight, and long, luscious blonde hair, straight and smooth as silk. She was tall, which I realized as I stood up out of my capsule, about an inch taller than my six foot frame, with long, skinny fingers and decently big webbed feet, and a long slender tail hanging down from her backside that wasn't quite long enough to touch the ground. She had shiny, scaly skin that had a deceptive rough appearance in texture, but felt soft and smooth when her hand reached out to embrace mine, and she said, "Hello, I am called Elora, what are you called?" Still in shock, the only awkward response I muttered was, "Eric" and she asked, "Why are you here Eric?" As I regained my quick wit I declared, "Does anyone know why they're here?" She smiled, exposing her sharp white teeth and proposed, "Well, you can help me find out." I think it had something to do with the adrenaline rush caused by the mystery and uncertainty of the situation, but I caught myself grinning, I didn't even realize I was smiling, it was an odd, unfamiliar feeling, but I was madly attracted to this blue angel from the stars. I spoke to her about my life on Earth, and my elaborate suicide plan, and she explained to me that she abandoned her home planet Eridani to conduct galactic research, and that she was from the Altair race. She elaborated on how life on Eridani did not satisfy her, and that she would spend her life roaming around nebulas, exploring galaxies, researching stars, and documenting her experiences. She showed me a star that she claims as hers, a green star called Zohra, which was her favorite star because she said she could only feel happiness when looking at it, to which I said, “It reminds of your eyes” and she looked at me and seemed flattered. She loved that star, her eyes lit up brighter than the star itself when she would stare at it, hypnotized at the sight of it, which I cared little to notice because I couldn’t look away from her. I couldn’t quite understand how someone could be so invested in something like that, something that just sits there spinning and spinning, peacefully participating in the orchestra of the universe. I think she was so fascinated by this object because she felt the same disconnect from others of our kind. The lonely, outcast feeling connected us, ironically, and we carried on intriguing conversation for what felt like an eternity, and I only wish that conversation could've lasted longer. I found in Elora what I had not found in any human being, she understood me, to the point where I was convinced she had mind reading abilities, and her understanding me didn’t diminish her interest in me, like what usually happened to me on Earth. I found happiness in her company, I found salvation in her embrace, I found unparalleled beauty inside and out, and I found myself in our friendship.  As time slowly rolled on my affection for Elora grew increasingly unbearable, and eventually the realization dawned upon me that I had to inform Elora of my feelings for her. We were accelerating towards the Crab Nebula, and I noticed the blurred blue light in the center, wrapped around by streams of red and yellow light, holding the blue heart in the center together. Elora was to me what the red and yellow streams were to the integrity of the Crab Nebula, without those streams, without Elora, my soul would fall apart and disburse, just like the blue light in the center of the Crab Nebula. When I turned, looked her square in her eyes, her gorgeous eyes that were accented by the light emitting from the Crab Nebula, those eyes that pull you in and leave you in a trance, those eyes that display the beauty of nature condensed into two little spheres that seemed to effortlessly gaze inside my soul, breaking down every single wall that I have ever built up to hide myself from other people, and uncover everything I so desperately attempted to hide deep down, and I said to her, “You are the only reason I’m still alive, the only reason I still want to live, the only other soul that accepted my lost, broken soul, you are the most amazing, most beautiful creature born from the stars we now roam around, I tried to die to see what heaven is like, but heaven can wait, because there is nothing more I want than to be with you until the day my soul slips away from my body, I am madly in love with you Elora.” I poured my heart and soul out to her, bleeding out every ounce of passion and love and sophistication to her, exposing every bit of my emotions, leaving me naked and defenseless before her. Different scenarios raced around my head about how she would respond, and she glanced down at the ground, looked back up at my blank face, and she said, “My people do not love, we do not believe in love, and we cannot love. Love, no matter how polarizing it may seem, always fades in time, everything fades in time, love fades in time, ideas fade in time, you will fade in time, I will fade in time, in the end, nothing is perpetual.” My heart sank down into my stomach, and right at that moment I grasped the idea of why they call it “falling in love” because I landed harder than I could even fathom, I did not know that such powerful emotional sorrow could physically hurt so bad. I dropped down to one knee, and the streams of tears ran from my face and splashed down on the ground, like delicate little glass beads shattering as they made contact with the surface, shattering like my heart and soul. The pure agony and embarrassment of staying with the love of my life, whom I had just made an absolute fool of myself in front of, was enough to crush any man’s esteem, so the only rational option I could think of was bail towards my space bubble, and go as far away as I possibly could from the light that saved me. With every inch of separation between her and I, my heart and soul grew sour and stone cold, and new theories to rationalize my reaction and actions that followed. As a child I went to an amusement park, and I was particularly frightened of a certain attraction that lifted you straight up, a couple hundred feet, and dropped you straight down, and now I realize that my fears of love are comparable to this ride. I was so mortified by the ascension, which precedes love, that I could never enjoy the thrill of the fall, even though this time the safety harness didn’t soften the landing. I came to the conclusion, after years of thought, that I could not blame Elora, it was who she was and there was nothing she could do to change that, and instead of accepting the fact that she did not love me, I cowardly abandoned the only thing in my life that I gave a **** about, I ran away from the only other being in the universe that could make me smile the way she made me smile. After years of solidarity and self-loathing I realized that I would much rather spend my life with Elora, even if she didn’t love me, as opposed to regressing back to my lonesome life, only surrounded by a vast, more captivating scene. The only reason I am still alive is because I have not given up hope that one day I will find Elora again, and I will beg for her forgiveness, and hopefully I will be able to cherish every precious moment I spend with her. I solemnly believe that the slim chance will occur that I will once again see that face, gaze into those eyes I once did, and curse my old self for being foolish enough to leave her. I am not certain, but I can only hope that she is at least indifferent to encountering each other once again, but if she denies me I cannot blame her, because after all it is my fault for my impulsive escape. But for now I wander as a nomad amongst the stars that form constellations that all remind me of Elora, watch the planets rotate, and reminisce on the time we shared together, the time I took for granted, time that I consider to be the most precious moments of my life’s experience. I spend most of my time roaming around Zohra, which was where she and I parted ways, in hopes that one day she will return to her favorite star, to find me right there waiting for her, however patience has not served me well, and my actions which I so deeply regret caused her to abandon the star which she claimed as hers, the star that radiated happiness upon her, the magnificent star that embodied her in beauty and essence, to avoid the thought of me leaving her, which is justifiable because she was probably very flustered by me scrambling to leave her after my episode. I rotate around Zohra, observing its physical qualities, seeing Elora’s face every single time I look upon its surface, but one day the light exiting the pores of the planet grew significantly brighter, and Zohra began rotating and shaking at a phenomenally fast speed, and I witnessed Zohra swallow itself in a supernova, creating a black hole. I interpreted this to represent the death of the hope I had to once again see Elora, or maybe time had taken her like time had taken her beloved star. I allowed myself to succumb to the irresistible force from the black hole, and the death of hope I had to once more see the angelic face of my love, swallowed my space bubble and my hollow body occupying it, to the point of no return, where I can no longer regret what I had done to her, because in time, my love for her destroyed me.

When I was younger, I had this wild imagination that never stopped. I was constantly dreaming, constantly in a whole different world. This imagination was born out my hopeless desire for all things unrealistic and this burning determination to always be the best. See, if I was a princess for the day then you can bet I was the best **** princess around. No princess was nicer, more beautiful or more desperate for a prince than me.

And this imagination really helped me because inside my head, I’ve always felt lived all these different people. Now these people all look like me because they are me but all of them have polar opposite personalities. They all represent all the different personalities I have. And in this world I created they would all meet together and sit around a table at a tea party and talk and debate with each other. And this escape was crucial to my childhood because I was the kid who always failed personality tests. Now how this was possible, I wasn’t sure. I was always the last to finish them because each question was like its own test to me. One answer never applied because it was either all of the answers or none of them. When I finally submitted the test the results would always come up as “not available” or “try again.” And for so long, I wanted to know what personality type I was but I was never able to fit into these boxes that people had created. And when you’re in middle school, all you ever want to do is fit into this box. A box.

And I always had a hard time with the saying, “Be true to yourself!” Because I never understood which “self” they were talking about and I still don’t understand what that means actually.

But in my world, there were no personality types or “self-s” because all of my “me-s” got to be whoever they wanted to be. And there was no confusion or embarrassment or suppressing any of the people who lived inside me. And when I was meeting all the different people in my head I got to experience all the different aspects of me that when I was around people, I tried to hide because not all of them were “nice” and “polite.”

And while I got to know all these people, I realized that all of my stronger personalities were the rebellious, outspoken and not really “socially acceptable” ones. And during these encounters I realized that one was very ******. Now no one knows me as a “******” person or whatever that might mean. And my whole life I’ve struggled with trying to conceal this person inside me because I grew up in this environment that was scared of women sexuality. The church I grew up in, the youth group there had this, “*** outside of marriage will **** you” policy and only marriage *** is good *** and everything else is the devil and you will blow up if you have other ***. Now ironically, we had three girls in my youth group get pregnant that year which destroyed this perception of *** outside of marriage makes you blow up that I had, had. And it began this process of my really beginning to understand my sexuality, and not in the sense of like, feminist, claiming my body, I-can-do-whatever- I-want sexuality, but understanding what I liked and what I found attractive and really beginning to comprehend this personality that I never thought I was aloud to talk about. This environment that my youth group had created made me believe that I wasn’t aloud to have this personality, which was really hard for me because I thought, “well if this person is bad, then who else inside of me should I never show?”

And I began, “experimenting” I guess you could say—secretly—and I discovered at thirteen while I loved kissing boys that was all I liked. I remember the first time a guy wanted to do something more than kiss and I was utterly traumatized and confused. And while I loved one aspect of sexuality I realized that *** itself, absolutely repulsed me. Like the idea of seeing a boy naked terrorized me and thinking about being that vulnerable and open around another human being had no appeal to me whatsoever and it wasn’t until I was seventeen actually that the idea of *** actually had an appeal to it. Now I never told anyone this because I thought that this wasn’t normal at all and I wasn’t aloud to talk about it. I saw all these girls around me having *** and talking about it and I just sat there like a lost sheep trying to imagine it and wanting to curl into the fetal position.

And to this day, this idea of being so open about sexuality is so foreign to me. And along with discovering this, I also discovered that I loved being rebellious and taking a stand and “fighting for justice.” Now this was absolutely contrary to what I had been taught. I was taught to respect any authority figure no matter how dumb they were. And this concept was just mind boggling because while I had this intense need to please people and be the favorite, I also had this insane impulse to constantly question and debate authority. Which, this ended up being a game to me because I got so good at “respectfully” being a rebel—or a **** in my teachers eyes—that none of them could punish me but they would groan as I walked into the classroom. Now not being the favorite was a totally new concept to me that was introduced in high school, and I struggled for a long time with this idea that I couldn’t be this strong questioning person who couldn’t be concealed. I was constantly getting in debates with my mom or family members over “knowing your place as a teenager” which to me is the dumbest excuse for anything. Nothing ****** me off more than that saying because they act as if I’m less of a person with less of an opinion because I was a teenager. And this idea that this personality wasn’t aloud to be created one of the biggest internal conflicts I’ve ever experienced. Because while one person in me desired to please, this rebellious person was quickly taking over and I was testing out the “be true to yourself” philosophy.

For so long, I believed I shouldn’t have all these different personalities and I tired to tailor to the ones which people liked more while trying (and failing) to ignore the ones that people didn’t. And for so long, I believed that I was the only person with this problem and it wasn’t until way later in life that I realized that everyone has all these different personalities inside them. We are taught that we have to choose who we are and be “true to that self” when in reality, that is about as wrong as it gets. We are told to whom we are supposed to be true to without being given any room to test who we are and figure out which sides of us need to be let out. And don’t give each other the room to change everyday and to allow each person inside of us the room to breathe.

So my challenge is to be true to your imagination, because that’s where you get to discover all that’s inside you. And once you begin allowing yourself to be all the personalities that live inside you, you get to experience all the different aspects of life and this world that you need to. Hiding from these people inside you only makes them louder. So go on, give it a try.

Mother always called me the devil child
She said I was  loud, destructive and wild

Parents told sister I was bad and she didn't ever have to play with me
Much time alone was no fun, however for some friends I did make a plea

I'd beg for my mothers attention, she'd run off to her room crying,
Yelled for my dad to come get me, because to her I was very trying

I heard my mother double dog dare my father to hit me
Mother would refer to me as a **** in front of the family

When I was very young mother once said “I will ****** you in cold blood”
Today mother said “you’re crazy, I’d never say that to a child, you are crud”

Nothing I did would ever please my mother
Gifts I bought her were tossed in the gutter

All my cousins were smart, while I was failing all my classes in school
Got into many fights with bullies and teachers who were always cruel

My family would all make fun of me, call names bully and teased
I was the loser that anyone could do or say what they pleased

None of my cousins was I ever allowed with to play
Was always much of the time alone every and all day

I lived in a strange way my dad was very to the T religious
And my mother was always drunk and of course blameless

She’d drink when home from work, on the weekends or holidays
And could always hide it from all her friends and the relatives

No one believed me when I told them that she had been drinking
They acted like I was crazy by then I knew what they were thinking

Mother took me out Friday's to eat and buy what I wanted, after work
Last stop, the liquor store for drink and smoke, was left in car like a ****

Mother would always drive with me while she was drunk
I knew she'd been drinking because she smelled like a skunk

Bought games that took two to play, parents never had any intention  
Of spending time with me, I was a bad child needing intervention

If I didn’t act a certain way when opening all my very expensive Christmas gifts
She’d pout, leave, and I’d have to open my gifts alone because I’d created a rift

Wasn't  perfect I admit;  ran off when 16 regret parents sent me away,
Came for counseling I complained about moms drinking, she felt angry

Said drinking not my problem, she’d return when I could face the truth
Never could admit wrongdoing, everything was because I was a youth

Home from school one day mom was passed out on  floor drunk
Called 911 her Dr blamed me and said no visit,  he called me a punk

My dad arrived home, find she was throwing up while passed out in bed
He'd take bowls put them near her mouth to catch it,  something I'd dread

He’d walk to the bathroom, empty the bowl and go back to get the next one to do the very same
And replace the unfilled one repeat the process.  I was told by her doctor that I was the blame

Sometimes mom would run down the hall to the toilet bowl throw up then my heart would race
Because I always knew mom would do this and then she’d come to room to scare rant and pace

Since I was a badly spoiled child who had parents with money, nice house cars and good jobs
And I was not willing to help out or be responsible, was told I made the family look like slobs

My sister let her boyfriend talk her into letting him take me to dentist, instead, he molested me
No one believed me because in the past I had lied about things, and the truth no one would see

I was different all the cousins, my aunts and uncle could blame me when things went missing
Or went wrong I was then and still am now the perfect scapegoat yes about it I’m still babbling

My father ran out the back door when he heard me wake up and come out of my room
So he didn't have to  bother with me, I wanted to spend time with him he’d assume

Somehow I managed to graduate from high school and I then would move
To a different city, I felt I might have better luck and my life would improve.

Married two very bad guys both who drank, beat me and verbally abused
Divorced them both and had one child and how I’d raise this child alone I was confused.

Moved into an apartment I still today about it rave
Mother always referred to it as a little dark damp cave

Things I wanted my mother to do with me she would say no
But wouldn't turn down a chance with other family to go

But this home where I've written articles, poetry that's been published
Most of the things I've written, mother has said they are mostly *******

Tried to work and go to school never was competent enough to follow through
Each time I would start either I did not have the ability to complete anything new

My daughter grew up, became ill with a repeating debilitating disease
I dedicated myself to getting her well, and nothing about it was a breeze

Had to take her in pain for doctor visits many times she’d cry and wished she were dead
This broke my heart with no family help, just her and I to face things in the years ahead

Unable to attend school for years, the doctor signed permission to stay home
School system assigned a teacher who was mean nothing about her was tome

School Social workers interfered
And my name they smeared

She finally one day went into remission
And now the Nephrotic kidney condition

Seems, for now, to have forever gone for good away
For years it’s been don’t want others to downplay

For a while, I home schooled her and the first semester back in the public school
She was on the honor roll things seemed to be looking up and I felt like I was the rule

Then one day she lost interest in classes, homework, and attending
And the principal of the high school was calling and threatening

Took her out of school and put her in to get her GED
Then  she was soon graduated within month of three

A year before she was supposed to graduate
I knew by then that I was doing things right

Enrolled me and her in community college we made the Dean’s list and no student loan debt
Last May she and I graduated have a new life now I don’t feel things in my life are a threat

Alone I’ve raised a good child, published a book and kept things together
I’ve published some poetry and stories in that will be on web pages forever

Even though my parents have helped me out once in a while financially
I feel lack of respect since they helped family who treated me crummy

I’m still feeling and have most of the hopeless thoughts when I was young
I still try to steer my daughter to be different from me and hold my tongue

Sister divorced husband for molesting children told kids I was bad
Lives in my town and over 20 years never talked, by her, I've been had

I think it's because my parents never would face reality or admit
To any wrong doing of years of abuse, something I couldn't forget

Mother has disowned me going to court to remove my name
Because she said I've caused her embarrassment and shame

I'm damaged goods, only go to doctor and for groceries to shop
I hide inside and on computer, write stories and poems till I drop

Why am I talking about this after all these years still?
Because I think that it may just possibly help me to heal

Looking back I find so many things have not been my fault
But I still feel many days like I'm the only one under assault.

Copyright 2013
All Rights Reserved

Everyone is so colorful
so full of life, so vibrant

Kind green hues
yellow smiles
red thoughts of love
pink cheeks from embarrassment

But I am grey, a colorless hue that represents the lack of self
yet I shine as if I am the only light
for darkness always contradicts the light

"Striking the match across my thumbnail, it's too slow of an action to me. The sparks stay in the air for too long and I haven't taken a breath in what feels like hours. Snow White couldn't have done it better, she paved the way. You sleep with the enemy, you sleep with the rich, you tear your way in with a calming, sweet smile and they let you in, they always do. The match falls on the heap of limbs. 'Here comes the sun.' ~ Jade Day


DR. NIGHTMARE: Hello? Mr. Nino?

[Dr. Nightmare whistles and snaps his fingers twice]

DR. NIGHTMARE: Are you ready for the procedure?

DO: It’s not like I have a choice now do I?

DR. NIGHTMARE: You always have a choice Mr. Nino. Your very future lies within the consciousness of every decision you may or may not make. With that being said which choice do you think will effectively see that you are better off?

DO: Well neither you or I can predict the future so we might as well continue playing and see what happens.

[Dr. Nightmare chuckles]

DR. NIGHTMARE: Not bad for a young man such as yourself, Mr Nino.

DO: I try. Let us carry on with the procedure now shall we sir?

DR. NIGHTMARE: Oh, yes right. Please fill out these papers to ensure that we have your full consent to conduct any and/or all events of this procedure.

DO: How can I possibly fill out these papers if I am still restrained by this straight jacket?

DR. NIGHTMARE: Oh, how foolish of me to have forgotten.

[Dr. Nightmare then begins unbuckling Do’s straight jacket. He then removes the jacket and passes Do a check pad and a pen with multiple documents. Do then begins to sign them. Dr. Nightmare closely reviews the papers as Do is signing them]

DO: Okay, I’m done.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Great now if you’ll just initial here, here and here we will be ready to go.

[Do finishes initialing his papers and passes them back to Dr. Nightmare.]

DR. NIGHTMARE: Thank you Mr. Nino. I’ll give you a couple of minutes to relax while I run and grab my list of questions. You may talk to AnaÏs while she performs a brief blood test on you.

NURSE YUCKI: Thank you, Dr. Nightmare.

[AnaÏs blushes with a slight smile as she twists both of her knees inward. She then walks over to sit in the chair directly across from Do. She pulls out her first aid kit and opens it. She takes out a lancet, some sanitary wipes and some gauze.]

NURSE YUCKI: Hello, Mr. Nino. How are you doing today?

[Anaïs opens a pack of sanitary wipes and begins wiping Do’s right ring finger. She then ****** his finger with the lancet drawing forth small droplets of blood. Do slightly winces in pain. Anaïs then places a small test tube to the test site in which his finger was pricked in order to draw blood.]

DO: Please just call me Do. I’m doing alright I suppose. How about yourself?

NURSE YUCKI: Thank you, Do. I am doing okay though I am quite tired. I have been here since five this morning and it is now a quarter to one.

DO: I can understand how that may be ******* you. Not everyone is a morning person.

NURSE YUCKI: Yeah, you’re right. The pay is great here though so I suppose it is worth dealing with.

DO: Yeah but is that ever really enough? Is that truly all that you want?

NURSE YUCKI: No, of course not. I have dreams just like everybody else. This job exists as just an in the moment thing for me. It is a means to get me by or as most people say “a leg up” in the industry.

DO: Those times are always the most trying.

NURSE YUCKI: You can say that again.

[Anaïs eventually finishes drawing blood from Do’s finger and places a couple of pieces of gauze to it and wrapped a band-aid around it. She then pours the blood sample into a slightly bigger and wider test tube and then places a top over it placing it along with the lancet back into her first aid kit.]

DO: Those times are always the most trying.

[Anaïs laughs. Do slightly smiles in return.]

NURSE YUCKI: I didn’t mean literally silly ha ha.

DO: Hey a little humor never hurt anyone ha ha.

NURSE YUCKI: If that were the case this place would cease to be a business.

[Anaïs and Do both laughed.]

NURSE YUCKI: I don’t mean to be a creep but I think you have really pretty eyes.

[Do was an African-American man with short, curly black hair. He also had dark brown eyes with his skin being the shade of chocolate chip cookie brown. He had a goatee as well.]

DO: Thank you, Anaïs. You’re honestly a lot funnier than I thought plus you are very beautiful.

[Anaïs was a white British woman with long, jet black hair and winter blue eyes. She had fairly tan skin along with a nice figure. She also wore black lipstick and had various tattoos.

NURSE YUCKI: Thank you, Do. So do you ha—

[The door to Do’s padded cell abruptly opens.]

DR. NIGHTMARE: Okay, I’m back. Thank you for keeping my patient company Anaïs.

NURSE YUCKI: Oh, you’re welcome, Archie.

[Anaïs stomped very loudly as she walked away.]

DR. NIGHTMARE: I told that ***** I don’t like when people call me Archie in public.

DO: Well, that is your birth name is it not? Besides Anaïs is a really nice woman.

DR. NIGHTMARE: That’s like saying a ****** is a teething ring.

DO: So are you saying you have been sexless for six months or are you asexual?

DR. NIGHTMARE: Hey, who is the doctor here?

DO: I’m just saying. You may be inserting your tongue incorrectly.

[Dr. Nightmare ignores Do’s comments blushing out of embarrassment.]

DR. NIGHTMARE: Well, if you are done fooling around we can begin.

DO: Let’s do it.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Okay, Mr Nino. Your first name is Do, correct?

DO: Yes, sir.

DR. NIGHTMARE: We already know your last name so on to the next question. What is your date of birth?

DO: August 2, 1990

DR. NIGHTMARE: Ah, so you’re twenty-three years old eh?? I thought you were like sixteen.

DO: Ha ha nope but I get that a lot so it’s nothing I’m not used to.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Where are you from?

DO: Springfield, Illinois

DR. NIGHTMARE: Where were you currently living before you came here?

DO: Cordova, Tennessee

DR. NIGHTMARE: Did you like it there?

DO: No, not really. I actually hate it there and am desperate to get away from there and move to a bigger city.

DR NIGHTMARE: Oh? What for may I ask?

DO: To take advantage of more career opportunities to achieve my dreams.

DR. NIGHTMARE: I really like where your head is at kid. Who were you currently living with before you came here?

DO: My mother along with three of my siblings, niece and nephew.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Do you get along with them at all?

DO: When I want to but even then it is just a feigned interest.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Where were you working before you came to this institution?

DO: I was working as a dishwasher and prep cook at my local pancake joint and bakery. The name of the restaurant is Love 'N’ Lust.

DR. NIGHTMARE: That title sounds intriguing. What kind of food do they make there? Do they pay you well for your services?

DO: We make all kinds of foods in the shape and/or imagery of sexually provocative thought patterns. Basically we make cakes in the shapes of genitals, *******, ***, etc… We do this for breakfast, lunch and dinner around the clock. They pay me $7.25 an hour.

DR. NIGHTMARE: I got to take my girlfriend some time soon. You get paid more to do that here. I believe the maximum is $15 an hour in translation from Euro dollars to American dollars.

DO: You won’t regret it sir. There are actually some of restaurants located throughout France.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Thank you, Mr. Nino. I’ll keep that in mind.

DO: You’re welcome, sir.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Do you have any passions, Mr. Nino?

DO: Yes, I do. As a matter of fact I have two passions. They are poetry and disc jockeying.

DR. NIGHTMARE: How long have you been writing poetry and disc jockeying?

DO: I have been writing poetry since November of 2008. I am only just beginning within the disc jockeying field.

DR. NIGHTMARE: What were you like in school, Mr. Nino?

DO: I’ve been to many schools doctor. I require that you be more specific

DR. NIGHTMARE: What was life like for you in high school?

DO: Well, I never actively made the effort to socialize with anyone outside of school simply because I was disinterested. When people would take part in extracurricular activities I would just ignore them and go home. I never even went to my own prom.

DR. NIGHTMARE: And why didn’t you go to your prom?

DO: Because I never had a date nor did I have the courage to ask one of the girls out

DR. NIGHTMARE: Well, I would tell you that I understand but I have no idea what that is like. In my day I was a ****. Everybody knew me. All the girls wanted to talk to me.

DO: Yeah, you’re not helping.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Nino

DO: It’s alright, doctor.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Moving on, what was your life like as you were growing up?

DO: There was lots of domestic violence and unwanted sheriff visits because my mother would always feel the urge to call the police every time I voiced an opinion that she did not agree with. I have even been in physical fights with her, my father, brother, sister and grandmother. I even splashed orange juice in my grandmother's face one time because she was ******* me the *******. There was the occasional use and profiting of the most popular drug at the time by a parent because my father smoked and sold drugs. He hung out with the wrong people a lot of the times mostly people who desired to buy drugs from him. Day in and day out deep down I feel that there are still some grudges floating around. My family won’t let me move past them nor will they let me forget about them. They always like to bring them up every chance that they get. I was also expelled from middle school at the age of fourteen for tossing my gym shorts at the assistant principal when she told me to shut up while I was talking. I felt disrespected and it ****** me off. I didn’t know what else to do. I also took antidepressants at the age of sixteen for crying out loud and when I was twenty I was mugged only just one week shy of my twenty-first birthday. It was a late night and I was walking home.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Sounds like you have had a rather rough life

DO: Yeah, well my life is not as bad compared to others.

DR. NIGHTMARE: That doesn’t matter Mr. Nino. It still counts. What was the name of the antidepressant medication that you were taking for you depression?

DO: I honestly don’t remember. That was so long ago. I’m twenty-three now. I’ll be twenty-four in the summer so that was nearly eight years ago. I do remember my mother making me take medications such as Stratera and Adderall for Attention Deficit Hyper Disorder.

DR. NIGHTMARE: What is your relationship with your family like now?

DO: I only talk to them when I want or need something like most people, but other than that I steer clear of them to avoid confrontation and drama. Drama never falls short in the Nino family.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Why do you think that is, Mr. Nino?

DO: Well, it’s just that when me and my immediate family members are in the same room together I can feel a significant amount of tension, hatred and anger coursing throughout the room. It makes me feel very uncomfortable so I just leave.

DR. NIGHTMARE: What do you fear the most, Mr. Nino?

DO: Abandonment and death

DR. NIGHTMARE: All of which are very powerful and reasonable things to be in fear of. What is your attitude toward the opposite ***? What was it in childhood and later years?

DO: I always took notice of the hot girls and the unbearably **** girls. I just never made the effort to talk to them because most of them ignored me or were stuck up and thought they were higher and mightier than me. In later and considerably more recent years my patience for the opposite *** has lessened greatly with each passing day. It has gotten to the point where I hate romantic relationships leading me to believe that they are a complete waste of time. Marriages are pointless as well. I would operate just fine in a No Strings Attached, Friends With Benefits or a One Night Stand type of deal. At least with those types of relationships an emotional connection is not at all required. I like *****. End of story. I get enough emotional connection through bowel movements.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Are you ambitious, sensitive, inclined to outbursts of temper, domineering, shy, or impatient?

DO: Yes, sir. I am very ambitious. I’m a poet so there is no doubt that I am sensitive. Yes, I do tend to have short, mild outbursts concerning my temper. I get mad when people cut me off or talk over me when I am speaking. I hate when people ignore me and I hate when I try to join a conversation and everyone acts like I am not there. It’s like can’t they see that I am trying to be apart of the conversation. I mean even when I try to socialize and make friends they fail to realize it. It is all alright though. I have learned not to give a **** anymore. Honestly, it is the best way to avoid any drama in life.

DR. NIGHTMARE: What sort of people did you physically allow yourself to be around you prior to arriving at this institution? Were they impatient, bad-tempered, or affectionate?

DO: Affection was far from the equation, doctor. I was around a lot of impatient and bad-tempered people. When I speak of these people I speak mainly about my family, but also some of my co-workers as well. They drove me incredibly insane. I would often go home depressed and dreading the next work day.

DR. NIGHTMARE: How do you sleep?

DO: Most of the time I find it difficult to sleep. I frequently watch Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response or (ASMR) videos to aid in me that and so far it has worked exceedingly well.

DR. NIGHTMARE: What dreams do you have?

DO: I rarely have any happy dreams I’ll tell you that. Most of the dreams I have are of running down dark hallways, chasing shadows, jumping off of cliffs and being unexpectedly attacked by random strangers whether it be physically or verbally. I also tend to have a lot of dreams where I am screaming my head off at the people surrounding me in the dream. I even go so far as to push their heads back a little with the palm of my hand. I was really mad in those dreams. I have a lot of mildly terrifying as well as psychotically depressing dreams. I also tend to have dreams about abandonment.

DR. NIGHTMARE: What illnesses are there in your family background?

DO: Well both of my grandmas are diabetic however one of them has been deceased for six and a half years now. She was English plus she had struggled with breast cancer for years. One of my sisters has been diagnosed as bipolar. I believe I may be bipolar, but just undiagnosed. I am allergic to penicillin. Both of my little brothers have asthma. One of my brothers is allergic to peanut butter.That’s about it. My father has problems with digesting solid foods. I don’t really know all that much about the history of my family’s mental health. There was one time when my mom called the cops on me when I was sixteen. The cop although unlicensed said that he thinks I may be schizophrenic. I didn’t believe a word that he said back then, but eight years later I am now starting to realize the justness of what he said and even starting to believe it.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Have you ever had ***, Mr. Nino?

DO: No, sir. I have not. I do think about it very often though.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Do you watch any **** at all?

DO: Every night.

DR. NIGHTMARE: What kind of **** do you like to watch? Do you have any fetishes?

DO: I like to watch female bodybuilders workout in the ****, I also like to watch regular girls fool around in the **** as do most men. I also enjoy watching lesbian **** as well. My fetishes are women with muscle. I’m talking large muscle mass from the neck down. It just gets me so hot. Another fetish of mine and don’t tell anyone this, but I like to watch women take dumps in the toilet. I don’t however like actually seeing the feces. I only like to see them sitting on the toilet while doing it and hearing the sounds. I do not like seeing what is going on underneath. Other fetishes of mine include women with tattoos, tall women, and also slightly psychotic women though intelligent women.

DR. NIGHTMARE: What are you hoping to get out of these sessions and procedures?

DO: I just seek to be happy again. That is all I ask. That is all I want.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Well this concludes our interview, Mr. Nino. I will run to the lab and decipher you

She stood up against the wooden bar lit by a stale football field that shined florescent green and highlighted polyester blue like a muse of Van Gogh or Galileo. Her hair ran down the nape of her neck like a ****** waterfall and the light of the bar highlighted her sphinx like eyes as she turned and caught his eye. He stood at a small table away from the main bar with a couple of friends who were telling stories of their old college days and he, half-listening, quickly looked away, faking to scratch his eye, for he knew he had been caught looking at the back of her and she, with her women's intuition of being observed and knowing this, kept looking and he knowing the only way not to show he had been caught was to look away quickly and very obviously; like a bad actor caught dumb and silent, clueless of their next line. They blushed and shared the heat of embarrassment in their cheeks with the sounds of worn dollar bills slapping hard against the smooth wood of the bar, the bar man eyeing it angrily as cigarette smoke surrounded them and slowly drifted up like a lost soul toward the ceiling and the piano man, eyes tight shut played for everyone there when no-one cared to listen, all underneath the dim light of the bar as they strained to look away from one another, trying to find something they could put their focus upon, but, at the same time, wanting very much to look back and have their eyes meet by mistake all over again.

He focused on the design of the bathroom placards that were in the right corner of the tiny bar where you had to turn sideways and touch shoulder's with every soul inside just to get a drink. He feigned interest in the bronze design of the men's bathroom: a tiny boy looking down at his pecker as he ****** a 1/2 inch thick stream into what the man gathered to be a sunflower ***. The boy was thrusting his hips forward, both of his hands on his side, and he showed no smile, no grin of satisfaction or victory, just a stark, blank face, as if he were thinking "I am peeing in this ***. That is all." The women's bathroom sign was of a young girl with the same kind of *** the boy had been ******* in, but it was missing the sunflower and was replaced by the *** of the girl. She stared up into the sky and into the ceiling lights and was dramatically reaching for a butterfly or bird - he couldn't make out which - something with wings and made him think of a basic metaphor that this poor little girl just wants to get off the *** and be free like the birds and butterflies and clouds in the wide blue sky.

She focused on the man's shoes. She looked at the black shine and the pristine black shoe laces, all looking like everything had just been purchased that day. "There is not a single scuff on them and the way this man cuffs his pants only a single turn," she thought to herself, "Tells me he has something of a style on him". Not so run of the mill. Something special. Something of interest.* But then, she was annoyed by the cuff of the pants because she remembered that was what all the schoolboys in her prep school would do when the day was rainy or the boys rode their bikes home from school or they were nerds. The memory immediately turned her off of the man all together, but luckily, she put her gaze back on the jet-black, seemingly un-touched leather that told her success, class, and security.

The man heard a loud Cheer's!" from his table, abruptly bringing him out of his distraction. He was forced to turn and as he did, he made sure not to look up. He kept his eyes on the table and looked for the half-full beer with the worn Budweiser coaster underneath it. He could see from the his top periphery that she was still facing him but she was looking down at something toward the floor. He fumbled with his large hands for his glass and panned his eyes up slightly. The woman, seeing the movement at the table, looked up. She stared back to where she had first caught him looking at her and waited. The man felt her looking at him and in the same instant, saw the faded Budweiser coaster and reached for his beer. He picked the glass up and as the second Cheer! was yelled, he clashed his glass against all the others, all the while keeping his head not toward his friend's faces, but turned in the direction of the bar toward the girl. He smiled at her as he lowered his glass, not taking a drink. His friend slapped him on the back and told him," You gotta' drink after the cheers or its bad luck," and so he did, still staring dumbly at her as he did. She nodded at him with a self-conscious and embarrassed grin, raised her nearly gone low-ball glass of gin and tonic and tipped it toward him and turned around to face the bar.

"I"ll stand here and wait for him to come up to me," she thought, "And if he doesn't the man is a coward and a louse and not worth my time. I have looked twice now and there is some rule in some magazine that I read somewhere, that if you look twice at a man that it is sign, not a coincidence. No, it has a purpose and though I barely know what reason I want this man to look at me other then to get a drink out of him and maybe some conversation, I am certain I have looked twice, maybe even three times. Yes. I have looked at him and I have made my interest known and now I must wait for him to either come or stay with his drunken friends. They look like frat boys cheering like that. They look like drunken, silly frat boys that wouldn't know the first thing about chivalry. Hell, they probably couldn't even spell the ****** word." She laughed under her breath and smiled maliciously to herself and caught her own reflection in the mirror and, for an moment, wanted to quickly look away. Her face did not frighten her, for she was a beautiful woman, not her skin, which was milky white with the faintest and gentlest dash of rouge on each cheek, nor her chocolate colored curls that bounded like boulder's down a hillside. She turned away from a look upon her eye she had not seen or had recognized in a very long time. Her eyes were frightened.

"Frightened?" she wondered.

The man put his beer glass on the table on top of the coaster. The foam rested at the bottom of the cup like the thin layer of ice that blows over a frozen lake, barely there at all passing with the wind. He stared at her back and liked how she leaned on her right hip and put the toe of her left high-heel to the ground, rocking the nose of the shoe back and forth like she was thinking about something playfully frivolous. Behind him, the noise of his friends became a hollow echo, drowned out by the draw of this woman. She swung her left heel back and forth like a pendulum trying to hypnotize him. Someone touched his shoulder but he shrugged the hand away as in this echo chamber he could only hear the music change tracks on the juke box. The song had changed to an old Ottis Redding song and there was nothing else in the world that he wanted to listen to in that moment. As he watched her, leaning into the bar seemingly all alone, no boyfriend or girlfriend in sight, he saw her raise her glass to the barman and knew she had something by the gentle nod of the back of her head. He then saw her point with her left finger and tap the rim of the glass. Her drink was empty. She wanted another drink. He would buy her another drink.

"There is nothing in this world that a man is more responsible for than getting a woman like this a drink," he nodded, thinking to himself and trying to pick up his courage,"One that plays with my heart like a kitten would a spool of yarn, and yet also like a vulture who would peck out the eyes of a dead man in the desert. This is nothing more then that obligation. A rule passed down from man to man, from age to age, where chivalry was not for the base reason to lay with the woman, but to honor them, praise them lightly as the rain from a heavy mist and show them to the pedestal every woman, whether they wish to admit it or not, do wish for, sincerely do at least once in there life." He readjusted his belt and realigned his shirt that had gotten crooked after the celebratory cheer and thought some more,"I'm not going to do that here, this pedestal stuff. This is more like a step toward that pedestal. Yes. A step toward the shrine she wants to trust she deserves and will one day end up on. And this shrine is all cast and painted in the blurry french film noir of dream, is it not? Aren't dreams the only thing we hope to one day come true? How often - when and if they do come true - they can sometimes disappoint and eventually turn sour like a bad orange. I hope she is drinking and that wasn't just a tonic water. If this woman doesn't drink I don't think any of this will be worth anything at all."

She stood there serene and angelic, the hand that held her drink now resting on the base of the bar. Behind the man, he heard the chatter of his friends and the drone of football scores and player updates coming from the ten or more televisions that hung from the ceiling. Someone reached out to touch his shoulder but missed him as he left the table. His name then echoed behind him but soon the sound evaporated as dew does that rests on blades of grass in a summer morning to a summer afternoon. There was only her and her smell that had drifted to his table and shrouded him with the scent of white chocolate and smoke and her delicate, porcelain hand that had held up the drink shyly but not weakly, in passing demand without that demanding quality drunk people can get like at bars sometimes. He approached her, hovered behind her, but she did not turn, and then came up to the bar to lean into. He did not turn to look at her, though he wanted to very badly, but looked down at her low-ball glass with two half-melted ice cubes and a used lime. The smell of gin came from the glass and the man smiled to himself and put his hand up to signal the bartender.

"If this man orders his drink first and walks back to that table with all of his drunken friends, I am giving up men all together," the woman thought to herself," * Tonight and forever! If he can put his hand up and not even turn to look at me, as I was doing, I thought, to be very flirtatious but gentle, then I see no reason at all to keep going with men. They are barbarians that only want to eat, drink, sleep, and fornicate with women that are easy and provide no real challenge at all in their life. If he wants it easy, he can have it as easy as he wants, but not with me. No sir. Not with me ever. Not with me for a night, an hour, a minute, or even a second."

The bartender, a stout slightly overweight man that was a little over forty with streaks of grey in his thin, short-cut hair, looking very much like he should be home reading with a nice cup of tea by his side rather than in the bar serving drinks to stranger's, approached the man and asked him what he would like.

"Two gin and tonics please," the man said, "With a slice of lime and four ice-cubes in each."

"And what kind of gin, sir?"

The man turned to the woman, "What label do you drink?" he asked.

"Pardon me?" she stuttered startled, her eyebrows raised.

"Your drinking gin, aren't you?" He nodded his head toward the woman's empty glass. The tiny lines of transparent lime skin floated on top of the water that had gathered from the melting ice-cubes.

"Yes, I am. I was just about to order."

"I'll get this round and you'll get the next one."

"Any gin is fine."

The man turned to the bartender," Tanqueray, please bartender."

He nodded and went to make the drinks.

"Your very perceptive," the woman said as she turned to face him.

"I try."

"I saw you from across the bar, but was afraid to walk up to your table for fear of getting ambushed by all of your friends. Those are your friends, right?"

"Yes," he nodded as he looked over his shoulder at them, "Old college friends all with old stories of college that, truthfully, bring me little or no joy to even hear."

"Then why come at all?" she asked, "You seem smart enough to know that if you meet up with old anything, you'll be hearing about the old times all night."

"I was forced to come."

"Someone getting divorced?"

"No," he laughed, "The opposite. Married."

"Well, I hope it's not you or this would look very bad if your fiance walked in."

"And why's that?"

She clicked her tongue and turned to look at the shelves stocked with every kind of liquor. The bottles reflected the soft orange glow of the lights that circled the bar and the colors of the television screens. The man continued to look at the woman who had turned her back on him and caught their reflection in a bottle of Jack Daniel's. He waited for a response, but she stood there silent, knowing she was playing with him. Behind him, his friends were growing louder and a tray of shots had found its way to their table. The waitress who had brought the drinks, polite and with a smile, asked them to try and keep it down. They shouted "YES'S and screamed "YEAH'S" with moronic smiles on their faces, their heads nodding up and down like a dog playing fetch. The waitress giggled a thank and walked away shaking her head with disgust when she was out of sight.

"Well," she said,"You did just order two gin and tonics and I think if your fiance walked in with you chatting with me with the same drink in both of our hands, I think she would be a little upset. I know I would be."

"Perhaps we could act like we are old grammar school friends and just happened to run into one another?"

"Well, that would be a lie."

"Yes, that would be a lie."

"Which would mean we were hiding something from said wife."

"And what would that be?"

"That you approached me after I looked at you, perhaps the look from me wasn't flirtatious, maybe I thought you looked familiar, like I had seen you somewhere, and you came up to me and ordered me a drink and started a conversation with me, much like we are doing right now."

"What's wrong with conversation?" The bartender approached them and placed the two drinks in front of the man. The man took out his wallet without losing his gaze on the woman, took out a twenty and slid it toward the bartender. The bartender took the twenty, paused for a moment to see if the man wanted any change, but left when he saw he didn't want any by not moving.

"Conversation can lead to very dangerous things," the woman said playfully and wise.

"Your here by yourself and your not stupid; someone is going to come up to talk to you."

"And your that somebody?"

"I'm sure I'm not the first one tonight."

"Your sweet."

"I try," he said as he slid the drink over to here,"Your drink."

"What should we drink too?" She asked and raised her glass, the light above them reflecting in the ice-cubes and thick glass of the high-ball.

"Conversation," he said proudly and with a smile, "And the danger that it brings."

They clinked their glasses together, their eyes never leaving one another, and they both took a long drink.

"I'm not here with anybody and I'm not expecting anybody tonight either," the woman said.

"What's your name?"

"Why?"

"I want to be able to tell my friends I met a very interesting woman, but they won't believe me if I don't give them a name."

"I'm standing right here, silly. Go and tell them you met the most interesting woman in your entire life, look over at me when they ask you what my name is, then point over to me and I'll wave."

"You'll be here?"

"I'll be here."

"Promise?"

"Go, go, go," she repeated, pushing him back toward his table, "You bought me a drink, didn't you? The least I can do is wave to your drunken college friends."

The man walked back to his table, glancing quickly over his shoulder, trying to hide it, before he reached the table. He arrived to all of them drunk, beer spilt on the table and an ashtray full of punched out cigarettes and ground up cigars. Every one of them were rocking back and forth with each other, their arms sloppily hung around their neighbor's shoulders, their eyes blood shot with their mouth half-cracked open barely breathing in the smoky, beer smelling air. The man struggled to wedge his way into the circle, and when he did, he tried to get the groups attention by screaming an

His strong hands gripped me everywhere, he knew my sensitive places.
My eyes shone due to my intense obedience and humiliation.
I started to perspire in an excitable way.
My legs began to shake.
I could feel his affection through his endless kiss.
I felt intimidated.
He loved me.

I can still feel his indomitable hands around me, he knows my vulnerable spots.
My eyes glisten from my potent passiveness and embarrassment.
I break out in nervous sweats.
My legs are trembling.
I can feel his devotion in an infinite smack.
I feel terrorized.
He's attached to me.

Suzanne was an only child, adopted at only a few weeks old. This was no secret, she always knew from the time she was a small child. Her mom would tell her beautiful stories, while she sat in her bed, of how she and daddy waited so long to get her, and how special she was.
She used to feel special, but that was a long time ago. Things were simpler back then, when she was four or five. Mom and Dad seemed happy, and Suzanne did not feel any different being adopted. She was the one kid in the small neighborhood that was an only child. Every other house had five, six, seven kids. Suzanne never knew what it was like to live in a house with other siblings. She was happy with the way things were.

Then the storms in the house began. By the age of five things started falling apart at home. Dad was always sick it seemed. Mom was always upset, crying or yelling or both. It seemed to always be toward Dad, a quiet man. He never fought back, he just sat and took it. She was never be sure what came first, her dad’s sickness or her mother’s madness. She just knew things were not right.

Her mother’s anger and frustration caused her to lash out at out at Suzanne as well. She was filled with fear and embarrassment at a young age. Her relationship with her mom was strained to say the least. From being “special” she suddenly could do nothing right, always being compared to a cousin or the neighbors’ kids.

Now 10 years old she hid in her room a lot, it seemed safer there. But she could not stop the sounds from downstairs. Her mother’s voice booming throughout the neighborhood. How embarrassing! She has to face her friends, doesn’t her mother realize everyone can hear her?
Her father became very ill. He was drinking a lot, falling down and passing out, sometimes on the front lawn. Embarrassment was something Suzanne was becoming very familiar with. He was a gentle man, there was no fear of abuse. But her mother’s emotional abuse was far worse. She was always screaming and crying. There were the nights he didn’t come home for hours, and Suzanne and her mother would wait, hoping he would be coming home, alive.
At 12 years old, her father went away to a hospital, a mental ward of some kind. Shock treatments, pills and therapy. He was always making leather belts while he was there, and that continued long after he got home.

Her father was gone for months. Suzanne stayed with her Grandmother very often. She was an old Italian woman who spoke broken English and always had a tale of woe. Her mother would come get her after a visit to the “hospital”. There wasn’t much time for Suzanne then, the focus was on her father. She drifted through the Catholic school system easily. She was a bright girl, but had to grow up fast, too fast.

What does she tell her friends? Mom said don’t tell anyone anything, ever. No personal information! That’s when she learned how to lie. Over the years she became very very good at it. Hiding things and lying, that’s what you were supposed to do, right?
Her father finally came home, a new man. He had stopped drinking and seemed stronger than ever. Her mother’s ranting and raving did not seem to bother him a bit. He just shrugged it off and went on with what he was doing. But Suzanne could not shrug it off, it killed her spirit a little more every day.

Suzanne was no beauty growing up. She was the ugly duckling among the swans. And she was very aware of it. "Pleasing plump" her mom would say, as she made the big, heavy, fat laden dinners every night. Donuts and crumb cake were breakfast. Always on one diet or another, but nothing worked. Food was an escape for her, and all too available.

She was the fat girl, crazy hair that her mother cut, glasses, buck teeth, which eventually turned her mouth into a sore, metal mess, and of course the Catholic uniform she wore day after day. The other girls her age were all thin and pretty pre-teens. Suzanne was none of that. She went through childhood embarrassed over her family and her looks. Friends were few for her back then. It wouldn't be until much later, when the braces came off, the contacts went in, and the weight became somewhat normal, that her beauty started to shine through. But that didn't matter in Suzanne's mind, she was still the fat ugly kid inside. She would carry that with her for years.
The time for graduation from Catholic School finally came. Instead of joy, all she could feel was fear - fear of embarrassment. Would her father show up drunk? God only knew what would happen. But the night came and went. Dad was on his best behavior, mom was quiet for a change. No carrying on tonight, no-no, she had to put an act on for everyone. No one could ever know how dysfunctional our family was. So the show went on, the good Catholic family, happily ever after. Suzanne was just glad to get out of there without a scene. But now what?
The thought of High School was as scary to Suzanne as a trip to Mars! She was sheltered in Catholic School for eight years, uniforms and nuns, no dating, smoking or drugs. Was she in for a surprise! It started the summer before High School, when she met some kids that went to a “real” middle school. They were no stranger to smoking, boys or drugs. They seemed so grown up, and they went out with boys! Suzanne was going to be just like them.

The first day waiting at the school bus, Suzanne was more nervous than she had ever been in her life. She felt awkward; the clothes her mother picked out were just horrible. After years of uniforms, she had no sense of style, and her mother bought clothes that looked like they came from a thrift shop. It was too late to do anything about it, the bus was coming and she had to get on.

She didn't know that first step on the bus would change her forever. The next four years would steal her innocence, opening up a different world which years later would only be a blur.
She floated through the first year only slightly touched by the devil. Cigarettes were her only vice. Not yet an addiction, just a way to fit in. Her art of lying served her well. She was good at hiding things from her parents. They were too wrapped up in their own misery to notice her. She escaped in her room and dreamed. Her dreams were of being part of them, the cool kids. Whatever it took, she would do. And so it began....
Four years flew by, much of it a blur for Suzanne. By sophomore year she was becoming a pro. A pro at being “cool”, smoking joints, drinking a keg in the woods with the older kids, dabbling with a pill here and there. The few times she threw up in a shoebox in her room didn’t stop her, but makes her cringe now. Her parents never caught on. Even the days she came home tripping on acid. Were they that stupid or that uninterested in her life? It didn’t matter, she lied good and did what she wanted. Including boys.

She met him at 16, he was a bit older, had his own house and grew his own ****. Doesn’t get cooler than that! And ***** galore. Of course there was ***, but that wasn’t the relationship, the party was. Always looking for the next party, the next drink, the next joint, the next line of coke. So of course they got married! She had to get out of her parent’s house, what better way? Say “I do” just to get away, and the party could really take off. And it did, for years….
Suzanne couldn’t take the coke anymore, or the ***, or the drugs. It was too much for her, so she gave it up, one by one. But not the alcohol. That was her thing, and she wasn’t gonna stop, not for a few more years. So she drank and drank every night. Maintaining a job but hating her life. She realized at 25 that her husband was her best friend, party buddy, but not a lover. The thought of divorce was too scary. Nobody got divorced, right?

So at 25 she quit drinking, only to become obsessed with running and working out. That was the new addiction. She became distant from her husband even more. She worked out and he partied it up. She couldn’t be around it, or him. She just didn’t love him that way…. Hell, she didn’t even know what real love was. Would she every find out? She was determined to try. On to the divorce…

It was pretty painless, once her husband got over the realization that it was going to happen. They parted friends. He fell in love right away, and married again within a couple years. Suzanne wanted to have some fun, not ready to settle down. She never had the experience of dating before, or being wanted by different men. If there was any flirting during her marriage, she couldn’t act on it. So act on it she did! What a wild ride, three years and countless guys later, she started to play with the wine again…

It started slow, a glass here and there, months would go by without. Drinking wasn’t a problem, right? Oh how wrong she was. She’ll eventually find out later on, after much pain, self-hate and heartache. For now, it was easy to pretend everything was just great. Life was great, although lonely. She was worried about finding a man now. She was 30 for God sake, she should be married again. Well, be careful what you wish for! At 31 she met her next ex-husband.
It was a whirlwind romance, took off fast and ran fast. He drank, so she drank more. Still, not a problem. Everybody blacks out, right? He didn’t mind, he was just as bad at that time. Together they could not be stopped. They were the “good looking” couple, the entertainers, the hosts of every party and holiday. And Suzanne continued to drink, more and more. Always looking for the next party.

She worked hard, moved up in her career and did very well for herself, despite the drinking every night. She was young enough to handle it, but that would all change. She had a son, and didn’t drink while pregnant, a glass of wine here and there, nothing crazy. But the flood gates opened again after the baby was born. No sooner was she back from the hospital than the wine cork popped.

The next several years would be somewhat of a blur. The drinking was still manageable for a while, but soon the chaos would begin. Divorce, DUI’s, blackouts, bad men, drugs… Life was definitely unmanageable now. Things were out of control. The drinking became an everyday thing now, weekends were non-existent, only a drunken blur. Something had to be done, before she killed herself. She didn’t want to die, at least she thought not.
Time had somehow stopped one day. There was no day or night, just one long drunk, in and out of consciousness. Her son was older now, the men were gone, she was heartbroken, her only love was the bottles of wine she drank day after day. Without a license, for 10 years, it was easy to isolate. And isolate she did. Suzanne had a driver, who everyday knew to pull into the D&D; liquor store on the way home from work. She would call him on weekends, anytime of day, early morning, afternoon or night, whenever her wine was finished and the liquor store was open. She could never seem to buy enough.

She stated to sink into the dark hole. Was she losing her mind? She didn’t know what day it was or time it was, was it morning or night? Did it matter? As long as the bottle was not empty, it would be ok. But the pills for anxiety weren’t working anymore, she had to take more and more, and still the shaking would not stop. There was not enough ***** or pills for Suzanne to calm her nerves when she wasn’t passed out. She didn’t sleep anymore, it was just a blackout state, over and over again.

One day Suzanne woke up in the emergency room, again, not the first time. She didn’t know what happened, but she knew she had to do something. Her hair was filled with dried blood. How’d she get there? Who called for help? How was she going to go to work? Her mind wandered as she lie there, now awake, wanting to get out!!! They finally released her, 18 stitches in her head, with no coat, no shoes, it was mid-January in Jersey. She got her driver to get her home, with the one stop on the way of course, D&D.; "Really," she thought. "Am I serious???" But Suzanne was very serious. She went back to her tower, her bedroom of isolation. How could she explain this? She couldn’t.

That’s when she picked up the phone, glass of wine in her hand, and made the call. This is where her next journey began….

The Story Of Sara

Chapter 7

Ayad Gharbawi


Chapter 7: GETTING A JOB AS A PSYCHIATRIST



At around this time, I realized, that I was living with Sanji and I still wasn't working, and so, that dear soul was having to work overtime in order to take care of me.
  I swear Sanji never complained; not even a ****** hint – but, I to my embarrassment, I realized this fact!
  "Sanji I just want to tell you I'm so sorry for not working; I just want to,"
  "Don't worry, Sara; you've been under stress and so I can understand. You've needed time to emotionally recuperate from the traumas of the recent past."
  "Yes, but stress or no stress, it's high time to work again. Don't forget, Sanji, I've got a psychiatry degree?!"
  "And, work will do you good. It will be a good source of distraction. Get your minds off this whole subject of the party, guilt, Omar and God knows what else!"
  "You're absolutely right, Sanji. Tomorrow, I'll be looking for any vacancies.
  I felt happy; I felt that finally I was going to be useful again.
  After all those years working for the party and feeling that I was being 'useful' and then discovering to my horror that I had been of absolutely no 'use', now I can say that I shall be useful to society.
  I will be respectable again.
  I will have a sense of direction in my life.
  A clear sense of where I'm going with my life, rather than just drifting like a jellyfish in the ocean.


  Sure enough, the next day I set off for the job centre, and applied for any vacancies for a psychiatry post.
  Within days, I received an offer for an interview at my local hospital.
  I was to be interviewed by Dr. Tajim, who was the Head of the Psychiatric Department at my local hospital.
  I went to the department, and there I met Dr. Tajim who was to interview me.
  Obviously, I was tense.
  "Good morning; how are you Ms. Sara?" said the elderly doctor.
  He looked frightening.
  "Very well, thank you," I replied.
  He was about sixty five; a bit overweight, and as I looked at him more closely, I pleasantly discovered that he had a really pleasant face and gently inquisitive eyes.
  I relaxed.
  I totally misjudged the character of this kind man!
  He wasn't at all overbearing, or stiff or cold; in fact, he was a very welcoming old gentleman, and he made you feel utterly comfortable with him, so all your nervousness simply dissipated!
  I had heard that one of his own sons was suffering from depression and that he was in a hospital.
I also had heard, that that fact really affected him a lot, and, at times, it seemed to emotionally exhaust him; and, yet he would persevere and he was known to be really loving, compassionate and deadly serious in his efforts to help not only his son, but all his patients to get over their depression.
  "Now, you do know what the job offer is about?" asked the soft spoken doctor.
  "Yes Sir; I am to be a psychologist for patients who are in Category 'C'."
  "I see, and you do know who are patients in Category 'C'?"
  "Yes, Sir. They are patients with mild to severe depression."
  "Good, that's correct. Do you have experience in working with depressed patients?"
  I thought for a quick moment.
  I couldn't lie.
  "No, Dr. Tajim; I have no experience, but I wish you would give me the chance to prove myself."
  "But that is rather strange. You are twenty eight years old, and you graduated age twenty one – so, the obvious question, is what were you doing in those intervening years?"
What am I supposed to do here? I needed Sanji to be with me. How can I tell Dr. Tajim that I was 'working' with so-called 'political parties''? I couldn't. He would never employ me if I told him which 'party' I had been working for. If I had worked for a decent, respectable party, then presumably, he would have had no problems with me, but working Tony and Omar?!


  I had to lie.
  Lie to survive!
"Dr. Tajim, during those intervening years, I worked on a voluntary basis for charities broad, helping the sick."
  "I see, that's interesting; where did you work, and what exactly did you do for the sick?"
  Great!
  Now I had to dig the hole of lies even deeper!
  What else can I do?
  Tell him that I was joking and that I never really worked abroad? Of course not, that would make me a fool.
  I really didn't want to lie.
  But what choice did God give me?
  "Yes, Sir. I worked in Uganda, in a village called Sanji", my God, of all names that came to my mind, I couldn't think of anything else except Sanji's name! "Yes, and there in that humble village, I acted as a nurse for the sick, in a really small infirmary."
  "Sanji?" Dr. Tajim asked, narrowing his eyes with incredulity.
  "Yes, Sir; as far as I remember, the village was called Sanji, but you know the odd thing about rural Uganda, is just how one village can have so many different names, since each tribe would have their own names, that differed from other tribes. So, you must excuse me, it was a little bit confusing."
  Rural Uganda!
  What on earth was I talking about!


  And did Dr. Tajim actually believe me?
  I was insecure, because I had no idea if Dr. Taji actually believed the lies I was saying.
  "I see; I ask because Sanji is not quite an African name."
  "Yes, Dr. Tajim; indeed, I may be completely wrong, but, as I say, there were so many languages in Uganda, that it was really difficult to communicate with anyone."
  God knows what I was saying!
  I was just saying whatever came out of my mind!
  "I see. Yes, there are different languages in Uganda, and indeed in the whole of sub-Saharan Africa. But, I never knew that names of towns and villages would change, and certainly, no African tribe would give an African village 'Sanji' as a name. But anyway, maybe, as you say, the name may not have been 'Sanji'. Anyway, where did you get your training as a nurse?"
  Relief!
  Oh yes, but now I had to create another lie, in order to explain where I got my 'training' from.
I was getting deeper into this lying game.
  But I couldn't now worry about the morality of that.
  I had to come up, with an immediate answer to his pertinent question.
  "You see, Dr. Tajim, I went as a volunteer to rural Uganda, to help build homes and help women in their daily lives, and the next thing I know, is when the local doctor asked me for help. When I informed him that I wasn't a nurse, he said he would teach me. I soon learned the basic first aid medicine that was required. I guess, that I could be useful in the hospital in that sense too."
  "I see, Ms. Sara."
  Finally, Dr. Tajim paused, giving me time to think of what else he may ask me about my 'time' in 'rural Uganda'.
  "I see," he repeated, looking confused.
  Strange I thought, but this doctor would start every sentence with 'I see'.
  "So, for all those intervening years, you remained in this one village?"
  "Um, why yes, Dr. Tajim. I did spend all my time in Saji. Is that so strange?"
  My God, I called the non-existing village 'Saji', rather than 'Sanji'.
  Would he notice?
  "I see, but, I mean, as a volunteer, didn't your superiors relocate you to another village, or to another country, in all those seven or so years?"  
  I couldn't understand why Dr. Tajim was surprised at the time, which goes to show what a poor liar I was.
  Of course, later I would learn, that volunteers to Third World countries would get stationed in not more than a year or two in any country – let alone one tiny village!
  But, for that moment, I could only go on with my lies.


  "Yes, Dr. Tajim. I was posted for that village all those years."
  I simply stuck to my lie.
  Defend your lies, or else you drown.
  "I see, how strange. And now you are permanently back here?"
  "Yes, Sir."
  "I see," said Dr. Taji, looking uncomfortable.
  Silence, as he turned his attention to the papers on his desk.
   I felt that he was simply going to call me a complete 'liar' and to get out of his office.
  "Well, I shall get in touch with you. Give me a few days to get to a decision."
  "Thank you Dr. Tajim. I hope you will just give me a chance to prove to you, Sir, that I shall be really good at my job."
  What a surprise!
  With that, I got up and headed for the door.
  "Ms. Sara!" Dr. Tajim asked.
  "Yes, Sir?"
  I hope I didn't look nervous or startled.
  "Yes, before I forget, do send me by email the relevant documents from your charity organisation that gives me the official notification of your time you worked for them. Like a Letter of Recommendation from them."
  Yes, now I was startled.
  I know the colour of my face must have turned red.
   Where on earth would I be able to get any document from any charity organisation?!
  I felt that I was now caught!
  Was I going to be caught for lying?
  "No problem, Dr. Tajim," that's what came out of my mouth. And I found myself leaving Dr. Tajim's office.


  As soon as I was a safe distance from the hospital, I began to think once more: how can I forge documents that are supposed to be from a charity organisation? And, even if I did forge them with some expert computer person, wouldn't Dr. Tajim simply call the telephone number of the charity organisation and enquire about me, and then he would obviously be told that I had never worked for them, let alone having me fly off to Uganda?!
  Back at home, I sat down, and realized there was no exit.
  I lied and so now I must take the risk that Dr. Tajim simply would not call the charity organisation.
  I would choose one of the biggest organizations who would have hundreds of thousands of volunteers, and even if he did check, I could say that their computers get it wrong! They didn't register my name because they have so many volunteers!
  But, no, that's stupid of me.
  If I supposedly worked for seven years for one organization, then they would obviously have my name in their computer files.
  I was being stupid.
  Too rash.
  No, that's it.  
  I lied and so I must take the consequences.
  I would risk it.

  Well, I did forge a charity organization letterhead, and I wrote that I did 'serve' for seven years in rural Uganda.
  Next, I scanned the document, and had it sent by email to Dr. Tajim.
  To my complete surprise, within a few days, I got an official letter from Dr. Tajim's secretary, saying that I was accepted by the psychiatric unit in the hospital!
  I was so thrilled, that to be honest, I couldn't in the least be bothered about my lies!
  I was now going to be a useful member of society!
  At last!
  I was going to be a worthy, decent, respectable person!

**************

  As I got to work in the Psychiatric Department in the hospital, they began almost secretarial tasks to do. I would get 'introduced' to the depressed patients and, gradually, I was allowed more and more time to talk to the patients.
  I was really happy and pleased with myself, because I felt that I was, at last a 'respectable' person.
  For the first time since I had left, or rather since I was expelled from the party, I felt proud of myself; and perhaps, most importantly to me, was the feeling that I knew where my life was going.
  I would walk anywhere and, when asked, what I did for a living, I proudly reply that I was a doctor in the Psychiatric Department in our local hospital.

  It was at this time that I was watching television in Sanji's apartment, when the latter walked in and said:
  "You are not going to believe who is with me!"
  "Judging from the excitement on your face, it must be someone very important." I replied casually.
  "Yes, yes; so guess who?" asked Sanji.
  "Oh God, Sanji how am I to know? The Prime Minister perhaps?" I answered sarcastically.
  The next thing I know was that none other than Tony walked in!
  My goodness me! I was absolutely shocked and awed by his presence!
  What was Tony doing here?!
  This was the first time I had seen him since I left his party and joined Omar's party.
  And, I guess, he must have just left prison, because, it had been about one year, since I heard that he was prosecuted by our courts.
  He had changed a little bit.
  He was much fatter – which, I thought was a bit odd, since he had been in prison, and I thought that everyone in prison gets to lose weight!
  He looked older than his years. He had dark rings below his eyes, and for the first time in my life, I was really surprised, to find out, that he looked utterly dull, weary and tired.
  He seemed to have lost all that will power, charisma and charm.
  They were no longer part of his personality.
  "What are you doing here?" I managed to ask Tony.
  "And why not? Why shouldn't I be here?" he answered smartly.
  I got confused all over again.


After all, what had happened to him since our entire movement collapsed?
  I never thought about what happened to Tony, or Omar for that matter.
  Selfishly, I just thought about myself.
  That was typical of me.
  "You look dazed, Sara," said Tony laughing. "Is my appearance that shocking to you?!"  He joked.
  "No, not at all." I regained my composure, or at least, I tried to regain my composure. "It's just that, I never did understand, or know, what really happened to our movement? And what happened to you Tony?"
"Sara is confused about the entire movement." Sanji said to Tony.
  "Well, what happened is actually quite simple," said Tony, "the new government decided to take legal action against us for the first time. Previously, every government never even took us seriously enough to warrant a concerted attack to eliminate us. To them, we were just clowns."
  I was shocked.
  "Clowns? What do you mean Tony? What do you mean previous governments did not take us seriously? Of course they took us seriously; Tony, we were in a state of war, remember? What's happened to your memory? We were fighting battle after,"
  "Let me interrupt you, Sara; but you are so utterly naïve and blind that I just do not know how to face you with the facts."
  What do you mean? What are you talking about?" I asked frantically.
  Suddenly all those memories from the party days returned to me; for the moment I completely forgot that I was a doctor at the Psychiatric Unit; Tony had re-opened all my memories, anxieties and unanswered questions concerning those years.
  "Relax Sara, don't let your emotions take over your rational mind," Sanji said. "That's always been your problem. You simply allow your wildest emotions to highjack the rational part of your mind. I mean, you're supposed to be a psychiatrist and yet, you are so utterly impulsive in your thinking and in the actions you take."
  I knew Sanji was completely right. He was so rational and calm.
  "What 'battles' are you talking about Sara?" asked a perplexed Tony.
  Sanji laughed. "That's a good question Tony, go on, and ask her that one!"


  Tony joined Sanji laughing.
&n

Dear Lesley,
I'm sorry to have to do this through a letter, but
last time your crying just humiliated
the other couples in your group session.
Although, this might save embarrassment,
and make me look better, now that we are
both sleeping with other people. (If you
can call conjugal visits to your ex-husband people.)
This letter may well be the last memory
you will have of me, if your social worker
lets you keep it as a memento anyway.

I am leaving, and I won't be looking back either.
I am sure you won't be surprised or terribly upset.
It is completely your fault, no doubt about it!
Mainly, it is your long history with lying problems,
even more than your alcoholism, that keeps me
from being even remotely interested in continuing
this relationship with you. (I told you I forgave
you for sleeping with your boss, but I guess I
never really did.)

You would be so much better off finding someone
that can accept the emotional baggage that
you carry around, the ones with the orange tags.
Maybe your analyst can explain that to you better
than I can. I must say, I will miss some of the exciting
times we had together. Like when you got so drunk
and flirted with my father at our family Christmas
dinner. My mom has still not gotten the red wine stain
out of the tablecloth where you puked on it.

I'm glad this is finally done and we can go our
separate ways. I think you will find someone else
with whom to have an unhealthy relationship based
on physical attraction and a passion for strip-club bars.
Hopefully, this will happen incredibly far away.

Good riddance, and Happy New Year.

PS Maybe you should just go back to being a lesbian.
PPS I have no idea where you parked your car.

it's not that i'm writing this: because i didn't have an analogy looking at me... it's not that i'm writing when it's too late... it's that the simplest answers always come too available over a period of time, and with that come too many vulnerable circumstances: because so much was invested in the supposed "truth" affair... maybe i needed a Heidegger or a Kant to complicate me enough, to write out the analogy? and that's putting it mildly: to avoid the Einstein bubble and a return to Newton... yes, big names, but am i to be apprehensive about using them, am i asking them to be my mules? it's when you hear too much that you begin to filter the well-wishers... and want to hear the bare minimum... i wrote what i wrote away from the umbrella of subjectivity, as a non-patriot... if you want objectivity, this is how it sounds... when everyone's damning subjectivity i can see nothing but patriotic demands... and when no one is asking for objectivity, i see lacklustre in teaching a carnation's worth of being a citizen... because i also think your dog ******* on my lawn is gagging for a shotgun's tongue should you not clean it up. that's the basics, my friend. it's not too late that i should i have said these words... it's that you didn't do anything prior to that, that shouldn't have delaid me saying such things as i have said, in the skeleton of analogy... i say them now, because all emotions have been numbed... from someone without any thought for a patriotism... i can express in the simplest way... because after the fact: i didn't see anything worth a noble maintenance to be made a standard for 21st living... disagreeing with me is a futile as telling me that a stone thrown will not sink, over a body of water when upon it it's thrown. you can write as much spaghetti as you want within the framework of quantum physics... but when simple physics comes your way... i'm bemused why you're startled at a punch, and the pouch-clot of blood smitten into your cheek to denotate a bruise... it's almost as if you were expecting deviation from being prone to gravity, endowed with wings... no wonder the event was sober... try repeating the bohemian liberation of the 1950s and 60s... impossible! i didn't do anything too late... the analogy comes when it so chooses... because too many ignoble demands were met and satiated... that this one noble simplification... is so painstakingly unsatisfying!

when i listen to the music of my
youth... dunno... just get stiff-*******...
winter air helps make this
phenomenon acute...
i mean music from the year 1997
through to 2001 -
   the years preceding American
undermining and the narrative
of paranoia...
call it what you like, i call it a
feeling of stiff-******* when i hear it
down the years...
it's not even a nostalgia...
    it's a sort of embarrassing clue...
i am actually embarrassed
at having such tastes...
    it's not the kind of music you'd
be happy about, nostalgic about
the 1980s...
              the embarrassment?
probably because i now realise i was
an incubator for so much delayed
teenage-angst in the artists who
reigned this period...
       the clue is in: mostly rock orientated.
i remember that chubby kid
donning his baggy jeans and black
t-shirts with bands' prints on them...
but i find unquestionable is
the indentation of representing
that call for vogue...
                i remember wearing
a t-shirt with the slogan: *******
is not a crime
          on non-uniform days in
a catholic school...
           and not being touched or told to
take it off...
             it's like i've become father:
or simply memory - to the person i
am today...
           because i can't imagine anything
beyond this day-to-day...
       but whenever i put on the mind
that was influenced by those bribes back then,
i remember the Ilford shopping centre,
and the colours of Gants Hill's park
with those bird cages...
           getting the bus to Ilford,
then a one-stop trip to Seven Kings
wearing the guilty-as-seen uniform...
   i can't see any nostalgia behind,
given my music taste: i get stiff-*******,
a feeling of cold shivers and
embarrassment...
      but it happened before the invulnerable
essence of america died...
      once upon a time people dreamed
of wanting to move to america...
   these days the narrative is a bit like:
and succumb to that paranoia narrative?
i think i'll pass...
       i can get the escapism of
conspiracy theorists... i too thought about
the later mentions of why those buildings
fell down as if someone ticked-off
a domino effect implosion...
    it really did slightly unnatural -
   those twins really did seem like a domino
effect...
       so you hear those stories of very sloppy
murderers...
who forget to shave off their fingerprints with
razors, and shave off their crop of hair
and eye-brows...
                           by writing this i can't
make the situation worse...
                      it just seems like even though
the plain did hit the buildings,
the actual downfall of the buildings seemed
too staccato... i mean that: a stacked tower...
but if you play a game of *jenga,
doesn't the jenga tower fall to the side?
                           it doesn't fall-onto-itself, does it?
i'm sure the same physics principles has
to apply to that fateful event of 2001...
     you'd expect the upper half of the twins
to break-away and fall off...
rather than the whole building literally
cascading and imploding on itself...
folding...
                               you attack a jenga tower
in the middle, and the top bit falls off...
the tower doesn't implode vertically...
      a bit like chopping a tree in the middle
of the trunk... you'll still get a stump,
even if you chop at the root of the stump...
               satan in zeitgeist...
only then dawkin's the god delusion was
published years later, did i read that, apparently,
satan's face donned one of the burning towers...
   me thinks: spot satan and read the *******...
the easiest thing is to now claim that we
are insane... but it's still about the jenga tower
magnified... a jenga tower unravels and the top
bit falls to the side... a jenga tower doesn't fall apart
from top to bottom...
                it falls apart like a lumberjack hacked tree:
to the side...
              i really could write about some
other nieche topic... but it's hard not to write
about the abomination of physics...
     the fact that there was an implosion -
  and that the towers folded vertically,
means that even if a horizontal agitation occured,
the towers couldn't have behaved as they did:
(vertically) folding...
                                 but since the agitation came
from a horizontal perspective, and the fact
that the towers folded vertically,
      the agitation came on a horizontal perspective,
a jenga tower would fall off to the side...
                        yet the towers folded vertically...
   i don't know if that's really only about
writing a + b = c, given b + c = d,
  or whether it already is 1 + 1 = 2...
             **** me, if this isn't the opening bewilderment
we all feel about the 21st century,
no war in iraq or afghanistan can help us...
    attack a jenga tower in the middle:
it doesn't fold vertically! a jenga tower attacked
   horizontally will only ask for you to shout:
timber! who need the bewilderment of quantum
physics, when you have the physics of 2001
to look-up your *** at and muse.

Today’s generation breathes on superficiality. Always looking for someone who will make them feel good and look better, like a trophy they carry around. People are going crazy over a buff physique and luscious curves never knowing the real person behind the costume. Mind you, I am into looking good and am a love handle-hating man with a highly elusive six-pack abs but being superficial is just not what I was taught growing up. I was taught to look for substance and not just the stance. Know what I mean? What will you do after you got bored with her? After you’re through with her? You have nothing in common. What will you talk about? You just went after her to make you’re friends jealous, to make your status as a ladies man more credible, to make you look like a demigod and makes you more popular than before. All of these are false judgments about being with someone. There’s less love around my love handles now but character still matters to me. There are bad apples that we, Adams, shouldn’t be tempted, like the girls our mother warned us about. Like the woman who has more degree than a thermometer, not only bilingual but travelled the globe more than a stewardess. I’m not saying that they’re a no-no but they’re on the major league while you are on the little league. They will step on your ego like an elephants stampede and breathe life out your senses. My point is, be realistic. Get to know the person. Know what she wants. Know that women aren’t born with titanium-based sense of confidence and that insecurity will creep in her system. You know the classic: Am I getting fat? Is she hotter than me? Do I look old? You know how it goes. Insecurity has moved with time and even the modern woman remains vulnerable. Easy on the emotions ‘coz when it comes to sensitivity they’re the warden in this joint. So do your homework. She may be the world’s most desired model, capable of reaching a Ferrari’s top speed but she still needs assurance. Sometimes. Occasionally. Periodically. Always. Know that and you’ll be rewarded. Appreciate her. In any size or shape, spell it in front of her. Make literal or mental notes of the big and small deals in her life. And love the princess. Naturally. Stir, simmer and serve it steaming hot. Be patient. Watch her play. Laugh. Cry. See her at her worse. Take time to see her with her friends and family. These are the people she is most comfortable with and will make her act naturally. Don’t jump hastily into a relationship even if it’s the most logical thing to do. Prefer to be comfortable with each other idiosyncrasies included. Heed my word as your guide to a better you and a more blissful relationship, just in case. This will save you from heartaches and depression. And you will not end up seeing someone pull out the yellow card in the relationship and you won’t be making that 2 AM text messages and more importantly the 3AM breakdown.

Rushing in is like passing a busy intersection. You might escape some speeding junkies but you can’t dodge the midnight meat train when it marks you. You’ll end up on the pavement licking your wounds and wishing God will give you a second chance. When we let our emotions decide for us we might as well be a puppet. When we affiliate our need to be with someone with lust, which is insatiable, we will become uncontented. The process leading to forging an actual relationship with someone you were initially attracted to has changed dramatically. The days of long and winding courtship where we woe our object of adoration is gone. Today being intimate don’t apply to couples anymore. The pleasures of carnality are taking the world over and our concept of love is being shaped by ******* bunnies. The line separating love and lust is getting distorted and thinner. No wonder labels such as FuBu, FWB, PP (Pleasure Pal) and Rebound have gained pop culture concurrence. They simply mean consenting bedfellows who contend themselves that there is no ocean of difference between couplehood and ****** friendship besides the scope of emotions involved. Friends can. Especially when, lately, people have become savvy to the idea that *** does not ruin the relationship, which is now rendered all but platonic in an entirely emotional sense. There will be those who disagree and will protest but its making things more audible, making the idea spread like virus. The concept of a FuBu, FWB, PP or whatever you call it is inevitable for a variety of reasons. For starters lets say old school values have been exposed to be total fronting, hypocritical billboard signs of secretly debauched Puritans. Some just start on a harmless get together, a few chitchats, ***** and more *****. And when the night is over and it’s time to go home, some take detours and most of it leads to bed. An exception is on the rebound - dumper-dumpee. Rebound is trying to get back at your dumper, making them jealous or guilty. This involves an innocent victim who’ll fall in the trap of being played on. Believe me, you don’t want to be at the end of the rope. The emotion that comes with the need to be with someone is totally deceiving. Even if you and your date have gone out a few times (even slept every time you see each other) but neither one has confirmed that you are indeed dating, then don’t assume or you’ll suffer the embarrassment of your dating status being denied.

Relationships have drastically changed and this wave of change will press on, as the players get more adept at playing the cards dealt them. And even if the rules of the game have changed dramatically to allow certain breaches on morality, people have to be more cautious in making decisions pertaining to relationships. Never bite off more than you can chew. Or you can kiss your **** goodbye.