"preventing" poems
Trapped in a cage with golden bars of light
Of ancient habit and direful duties;
Below the water crashed into the bight,
The whispering waves baiting with beauties.
But her shadow lurked around the coast,
Dashing her to the beach like drifting wood.
Preventing her from what she wanted the most
To reach new shores from where she stood.
She wanted to travel and sail the open sea
Beyond the shingle, seaweed and shells
Closer to the horizon where the birds flew free
Or to the arenaceous ground in diving bells.
And coming back to where she started
She found her seaside changed since she has parted.
Or did the widening horizon change her perceiving?
For returning was not the same as never leaving.
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 10:37 AM UTC
Pursue the delicate moonlight shining beyond the scene, illuminating the grass of the coming spring in an ghastly silver yet majestic green
Clouds with their sterling lining, the cummuters of the heaven, preventing the sun, or the moon sometimes from shining down to us,
Seemingly caught in an endless journey they travel with the wind,
Yet under these drifting clouds in the sweetest of lights, the world remains to be in slumber, a story which never truly unfurls after all,
Can you gaze into a face fraught with sin, possessed by the one you share this dazzling night with on a day alike the tale of a dream ?
Wrapped up under a celestial sphere, here where dreams and illusions collide within the sweet embrace of your strong caring arms,
Finding rest I can leave my body to the flow of time as it passes,
Grandually sweet seasons may take away ones breath with grandiose,
Until the wish projected within your eyes finds its way to become reality, I will stand beside you with serenity and grace, till I may fade,
I may not be able to hand over these feelings, but the grasp of tomorrow bears some power to it, certainly transient time passes,
Let the depths of your heart guide you to a bright, fantastic future,
Until then, shimmering brilliantly, shimmering behind the horizon,
The Sun rises
~ Umi
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 7:06 AM UTC
(from “A Love Song” by William Carlos Williams)
<•>
familiar that apple google and amazon
have me under 24 hour surveillance
e-specially now
as I am in their
geosphere of influence
but sending me a love poem of WCWs that isolates my locale, my intended inebriation status,
and is addressed to me personally (“you”),
that’s just creepy
so charged am I, obligated to oblige,
to counter-compose a love song of mine own,
under the pinot “influence,”
(in a manner of speaking)
which a love taught me to love
what if,
a new love song ecrit,
to an old and loverly land,
a woman-land designed to be desired,
no difference -
kissing a new girl first time,
a wet and unforgettable
compote
when falling
on the neck of your one beloved anew renewed
now I tremble-tread
for the line of great predecessors,
“the land lover scribes”
skilled in natures homaging,
is like a line out the door,
around the corner as if
a new flavor ice cream
has just been isolated and mined and I...
<•>
*I,
but a novitiate
in a far away, wild untamed world
where my nature taken by her nature
cannot deny paying my just due:
selvage
late middle English, from self + edge
how perfect!
“an edge,
woven on a fabric during manufacture,
intended to prevent unraveling”
the pacific coast air
the irregular shoreline - expanding/receding,
god’s own forestry reserve,
the cascades, a goal on the horizon,
country roads where ancient wheat stalks grow wild
all a tonic intermingled, an alcohol to
imbibe through mouth nostrils eyes and skin
all will be my own selvage!
preventing the eastern unraveling disease,
a nearly incurable permafrost low grade
kate spaded infection,
brought along with me for decades,
my loon June companion, now stalling out,
lost from my happy head
a vineyard on every corner,
marijuana growing next door,
rivers that change like children growing up and down,
cheek to jowled property line
live the berries and the hazelnut groves,
god’s hay bales wrapped in plastic
like marshmallows dotting the landscape*
all daring you to say
I could
love
it here
Jun 8, 2018
Jun 8, 2018 at 3:26 PM UTC
i see the words floating on
message boards or perched
upon the lips of jocular hypocrites
double-standards that demand
sensual chastity and virginal sexuality
in endless iterations of irony
the concussive
monosyllabic words
slung like stones
cast like arrows
****
*****
*****
all labels for
women possessed of
the courage to pursue
their own passion
once upon a time a
Nazarene insisted a ********** had
more integrity than a rich
statesman throwing self-serving parties
so tell me why so
many Christian politicians
propagate patriarchal notions of depravity
in blanket attempts to regulate
the bodies of women
if being anti-choice was really
about preventing abortions
why do rich right-wing conservative
Republicans spend all their time
and money picketing free clinics
when the solution lies in comprehensive
****** education universal healthcare
complimentary birth control
and comprehensive child support
don't dare use the reprehensible
rhetoric of pro-life unless you're
at once anti-war
and anti-death penalty
riddle me this
what pray tell is the
difference between a jealous
religious misogynist
and a secular sexist
it's rather simple actually
while the former bases his
slut-shaming on the edicts of
a two thousand year old letter to
the Corinthians inconspicuously
sandwiched between a celebration of
love and a section on speaking in tongues
the latter’s learned behavior is
birthed by a hyper-masculine culture
grounded in dominance
either way we await the day
when wild women raze
these ideologies
with torches before
rising like phoenixes
from the ashes of
decimated passages
dismissed by intellectuals
as archaic and outmoded
deaf blind and dumb to
the vestiges of modernity
that sap unscientific
philosophies of their potency
and render them utterly obsolete
in their wake
these proud women
erase the hate
from words like
****
*****
*****
and reclaim equality
with a far more
comprehensive term
feminist
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 11:50 PM UTC
There will be no red jester,
no wolf, no jaded maid;
there will be me, of seven years,
blonde hair to narrow blades.
No speaking is involved;
we both know why you're here;
you've come to watch me evaporate,
or so both of us fear.
The lights start to get brighter;
the heat is too intense.
My body burns but you stand still;
the field 'round you is dense.
You stand so helpless,
As do I.
We watch the whole world crumble.
Friends of mine,
you don't know yet,
break away to rubble.
All at once, in not five seconds,
we're floating on in night.
The stars around me baffle;
no, this can't be right.
We're immortal, you see,
an affliction unforeseen.
Now I'm doomed to waft forever,
and live in the moon's gleam.
So the question stands, girl:
how long will you stay?
I remember a flitting dream;
it seemed to last a day.
Yes, it was, I do recall,
when I was not yet ten,
that I saw this all happen,
but I understood naught then.
So there it is, we have a day,
for me to impart all,
which of our grand hopes unfold,
and which were much too tall.
Don't be scared, my dear,
I'm sure we will be fine.
So take in all I say;
soak in every line.
We won't speak again,
and since there are few hours,
I'll share my words and hope they work,
in preventing the fire shower.
What seems like a minute,
but really was a day,
you start to blur and fade.
I'm sad you go away.
My fear is thick and soaked in tears,
and so we start to pray.
"Dear Lord, I know,
our world is broken.
It's full of hate and crime.
But, sir, please save the world I live.
It's all I have that's mine.
Find it in your heart, oh Lord,
to show this fille the way,
to stop the thugs and all the guns,
and give us one more day.
Amen."
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 1:45 AM UTC
"And in a funny way, the shaving of my, uh, head has been a liberation from, uh, a lot of, uh, stupid vanities really. Uh, it has simplified everything for me, it has opened a lot of doors maybe." - Stephen Malkmus, Jo Jo's Jacket
the first layer of skin i shed
was the bra
rid of the foreign metal sculptor producing a deep rift between skin
my third eye, swallowing gazes
rid of my **** , my ***** , my rack
replaced with sacks of fat and nerve and milk ducts
hanging, existing, for no one else
not even myself
the second layer of skin was the painting of the face
the concealing and erasing of imperfections, the lines of laughter of sorrow of life
redirecting attention and importance to the bow and symmetry of the lip
no longer did i have to put myself on in the morning
i woke up as i was, as i needed to be,
bare and uninhibited
my skin now breathed, and for no one else
not even myself
and then i grew another layer of skin,
made of dank tangles to protect my age,
i stopped shaving the years i'd walked this earth, shedding my womanhood
the skin grew to my armpits, little tufts of sweaty, odorous mother nature dozing in a fleshy convex nest
and to my legs, were the tangles wrapped around my ankles
preventing the spreading of the legs for every life
for not every life wanted what was not tame
and what was not tame no longer wanted to be.
my body did not conform,
for it was not brought into this world to be consumed for the pleasure of others
it exists for no one else,
not even myself
and as i was engulfed in this hairy wonder of my own body
i shed the last layer,
the shaving of the head
my brain, my being breathed
porous and exposed
vulnerable to weather and whispers
but i was all at once naked and calm,
having finally peeled away the layers of ***** over-sexualization and constrained femininity that had molded this meat sack that serves me,
a bundle of circuitry and solution balancing and bobbing on the neck
for i exist for no one else,
only myself
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 10:48 AM UTC
We are so close, but not just by physical touch;
I can feel you the way I feel my cheeks warm up,
after you have said something
that inevitably causes me to blush.
Its as though our souls are connecting
on the same frequency
radiating off the core of this Earth.
This pleasure is unnoticed by most,
but we can feel it
like we feel the blood dripping down our thighs
on a substandard night.
Before we started talking, so many years ago,
I never believed in true love
or really love at all.
I always assumed it was just all in the head,
and two people could only connect to a point,
unless you were related to each other.
After the first year and a half or so of talking to you regularly,
you proved me wrong.
You proved what I grew up believing
for 16 to 17 years was completely false.
For if I had never met you,
to this day, I more than likely would of continued preaching
to myself, that everyone else
who has experienced this feeling called
'love' was insane.
Life without you would of still been bearable,
but only because I would still be lost in ignorance.
I am more than grateful you walked out of your way
to meet up with me that night three summers ago.
I owe you so much, and will cherish every moment
I'm blessed with standing by your side.
I'll make it a point to provide a nurturing life for you,
one worth living for.
You are my world, my inspiration,
the main reason I look forward to waking up,
or falling asleep cuddled in your lovely arms.
I cannot wait to see you later today and hug you,
while my heart races with satisfaction
like the first time you put your arm around me.
This is more than just some fairy-tale,
this is still the beginning steps of our long journey together.
So we mustn't give up when things go south,
for if we do,
it will be the undoing
of what our relationship has always been about.
You truly are my best friend,
the one person who'll never let me fall
if you know you are capable of preventing it,
even if i don't want your help at all. I appreciate that,
even when my words or actions do not acknowledge it.
You truly are the only reason i was able to climb out of that dark lonely tunnel of agonizing depression;
for everyone else either dragged me father down or walked out.
You are my life saver, my sweet guardian angel.
I love you, my dearest, Chris, forever and always.
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 7:12 PM UTC
I believe, God put his view on the world in new borns eyes, and when you stare down into the kaleidoscope wonders, you see the natural beauty of what this all use to be. And when I look down at you Cooper, know I'm standing in the Garden of Eden, with tears rolling down my cheeks, splashing against a phone screen, preventing me from watching you blink. Aunty loves you Cooper.
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 4:12 PM UTC
The voices in my head, brought me to this place
A gloomy surrounding, everything looking lifeless and sad
I question myself, “Why am I here?”
But as I look ahead, I see a beautiful mountain; covered in fluffy snow,
Almost looking like the clouds.
Now, I am yearning to see the mountain up close,
But how do I get to see the best view?
With no one around, not even animals
Who do I go for, for advice?
I continue to look and walk around,
Still clueless, not sure what has drawn me to go on this journey
“It’s only a mountain,”
I tell myself.
Trying to figure out where the voices in my head came from
My mind is blocked
Can’t think straight or
See clearly
Everything is a blur.
Could this possibly be a dream?
I continue on with this journey
Trying my best to find a way to get to the snowy mountains
Tired and lifeless,
I pass out in the middle of nowhere
Flashbacks start to come
You were the voice in my head
Your harsh words,
Harsh words that brought me into this dark place
Left me feeling helpless and burdened
I get up and try to find a way out
Here I am standing, standing where I began
Looking at the mountain,
From where I’m standing, I question myself:
“Which way do I go?”
There’s the stream
A stream that’s aligned with the mountain
And the mountains with a path cleared out
Directing me to the snowy mountain.
The voices in my head
Preventing me from moving forward,
Drowning me with sadness.
The longer I’m here,
The more it overwhelms me
I’ve got to get out of here.
Jul 7, 2018
Jul 7, 2018 at 9:56 PM UTC
What is the versatile autobiography
of this bountiful of rice
boiling in my American kitchen?
This crop of microscopic slabs of grain
that was the one edible source
of preventing my ancestors' emaciation
One of such few things
connecting me
to my roots,
those things I can't help but bleach
in whitewashed and rebellious peroxide.
I will valiantly hang my head down low in shame
at the examples of my flesh and earth,
"those National Geographic cavemen,"
all the time being the zoo animal,
being blindfolded and caged by
these "secular, American liberals."
I love this food
that I consume like a vacuum,
this merengue and bachata
that I so happily shake my *** to;
but nowhere did I sign up
for these commandments
that I was appointed
based on the location
that I popped out onto.
Apr 29, 2010
Apr 29, 2010 at 10:51 AM UTC
One prevented suicide
Two prevented suicides
Three prevented suicides
Four prevented suicides
This list will go on.
That's the only medals i need, but i don't ask for that type of fame
Just the thought of saving someone
Is enough for me.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 8:11 PM UTC
What is our generation but a burning out cigarette
Half lit in the dark
our only lighter is the fainting spark in our hearts
Parts of our body degrading
Yet some how, something is preventing us from fading away
No matter how many times I plead
The notion of love wouldnt stay
A pastor from a foreign religion told me to pray
I couldn't say that the holiness has long left me
The sweet sensations of sin now caress me
I travelled through the twisted land of my own cravings
seeing painting of others
Brothers who died fighting, Mothers who tried to raise their kids
and here I am staring straight into the abyss of my own mind
trying to find some sort of bliss that will bring peace
Yet I have no shrine to kneel down to
No prophet to follow
I feel hollow, As I light my cigarette
With the fading spark of hope in my heart.
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC
Watching the Sunset Alone,
Like watching my dreams gone wrong..
Gone wrong for you’re not here,
Not here with me, I’m liked in the sphere...
That sphere preventing me to be with you,
To be with you is all I wanna do...
Watching the Sunset Alone is never gonna be the same,
The same when you’re with me, we’re both inflamed...
Inflamed of our desires and passion,
Without you all of this is like an illusion...
Watching the Sunset Alone is like my heart is in mourn,
Heart is been pounded and torn...
Torn in two,
But what can I do??
What I’m really trying to say is...
I’m nothing without you mahal ko...
I’m incomplete and I’m not me
Without here with me...
Like the Sunset is not complete without:
* The horizon were the sun sets
* The clouds, giving the color and effects
* The mountain, making it more dramatic
* YOU....
* Who makes me complete and the one who puts me in the zone...
Missing you so so badly..
Wishing you are with me...
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 6:52 AM UTC
Envy is not green but
something perhaps a little more sickening to me
than chartreuse and a spoiled ego.
Envy is when i see boys walking by,
looking down at myself again, i see my curves
and i hate them.
i don’t want them.
i want to look like the boys.
Envy is seeing other girls more androgynous
than i;
girls with broader shoulders
and with more angular faces.
why can’t I look like that?
i hear voices deeper than mine:
tenor, baritone—
and I shred my throat
day-by-day,
trying to come close to the pitch.
Envy is the aches in my body when changing
my posture from legs to shoulders;
from changing my stride
and preventing my hips from swaying.
i want to look like them.
seeing these people makes my insides feel
like they’re being twisted with a red-hot fork;
and it hurts, oh God, it hurts.
it hurts to know i will never look
like how i see myself.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 8:00 PM UTC
In a midwinter night’s dream
i found myself lost again,
or was it even this year ?
It may even go back farther
than yesterdays out of reach,
older than an ancient pyramid stone
Before the rebirth of past life deposits,
unborn orphaned motherless sediment,
flotsam of the ages adrift,
unknown for more than a thousand years
... waiting for so long to see beyond the bounds
High atop a slippery edge-cliff
i clung ―
Searching for a deeper understanding
of who i am;
Roosting like a starving bird of prey
with a broken wing
born alone ... holding on
With a fear in his eyes
that only i could comprehend
Staring way down deep in the pith,
into an internal pitch black abyss,
just begging to see beyond ―
Mindful it's so hard looking
into the eye of a storm
Intimately parsing the recurrent source
of reigning pain
Where the perpetual fog of isolation dwells;
an inversion, preventing dispersion
of the nimbus cold and dark
In the darkness, there bides a suffocating
emptiness,
A swelling silence what loudly knells,
leeching through a perennial ache
An abating voice within hollers unheard,
invisible as a bitter cold wind howling
relentlessly through the hollow pang;
Echoing the subsiding say
(squeezed out) ... of an orphaned soul
deep beneath the light
Awakening to realize ― once i was alive
and
i could feel me holding on to you
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Dec 30, 2017
Dec 30, 2017 at 7:11 PM UTC
Trying to resist
The chains suppressing me
Pulling tight, steel bites
Preventing the instinct to flee
So I fight
Throw a punch, skip right
Not dodging enough hits
Peer pressure, my death?
Well, it fits
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 1:42 AM UTC
She is like a red, thorn-stricken rose,
A beauty prized inside my garden,
Her body, like the petals, gracefully flows,
Movement preventing the coldest heart to harden.
I could be undoubtfully mistaken,
For my eyes play tricks, like mischievous young boys,
Making it rather difficult to awaken from a dream,
Or escape from a well planned ploy.
Only time will tell us, if it is meant to be,
Fate will bring my real soulmate, at a moment of overwhelming darkness,
The strong waves are beating against the shore, and back out to sea,
Until I meet perfection, wearing a white linen dress.
However, don't let the oppourtunity to find her pass you by,
Especially when it presents itself in the blue sky.
Aug 3, 2011
Aug 3, 2011 at 10:08 AM UTC
She wanders with a ponderance
of an unfulfilling existence .
It's like she missed the instance
when life was handing out
purpose. She became subverted
by her own thoughts.
Self-image contorted
like spaghetti noodles or dreadlocks.
The simplicity of existing has become brutal.
She keeps the gold within
vaulted like Fort Knox.
That protection is like an island
preventing her journey's beginning.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 10:34 PM UTC
I’m driving on my way home
from a job that doesn’t make ends meet.
Pawned all my gold, silver and chrome
and placed my hat and sign on the street.
I’m living in a creative hell
One that serves me but doesn’t serve well.
Into my flesh I would carve,
“You wouldn’t be a starving artist if you didn’t starve.”
At each red, I clutch at my steering wheel
and scratch my lottery tickets.
Manifest a positivity I don’t feel,
when it scans I hear only crickets.
I’m living in a creative hell,
one that traps and encases me as a shell.
Preventing me from air, society and heat
“You wouldn’t be a starving artist if you could eat.”
I have no certifications and no degrees,
my only trade and skill are the words that I write;
the gift that both comforts and tortures me,
it’s too bad that no one pays for plight.
I’m living in a creative hell,
voicing it quietly while ringing a bell.
Begging for help but don’t want to be rude
“You wouldn’t be a starving artist if you had food.”
I’m living in a creative hell
One that serves me but doesn’t serve well.
Into my flesh I would carve,
“You wouldn’t be a starving artist if you didn’t starve.”
Sep 17, 2025
Sep 17, 2025 at 1:11 PM UTC
Preventing contamination,
A constant challenge in cell culture.
Contamination not only affects,
The culture in question and,
Costs time and money,
But also endangers the reproducibility of results.
No cell culture problem,
Is as universal as that of culture loss
Due to contamination.
Generally, contamination may be separated,
Into categories of microbial,
And eukaryotic contamination.
Examples of microbial contamination include:
Bacteria (including Mycoplasma),
Fungi and yeast;
Eukaryotic contamination includes:
Cross-contamination with other cell lines.
Bacteria, yeast and fungi,
The three more common types of contamination,
But luckily these forms are often detectable,
Under the microscope and,
By visual cues,
Like colour or turbidity changes in the medium.
Mycoplasma is a small genus of bacteria,
That lack a cell wall and for this reason,
They remain unaffected by common antibiotics.
They are also difficult to detect,
With standard microscopes,
Due to their size, about 0.1 μm in diameter,
And the fact that they often attach to host cells.
To prevent contamination,
Use 70% ethanol for disinfecting,
Equipment & surfaces,
Related to cell culture.
Sterile filter the media first,
Before bringing to the lab.
Fetal Bovine Serum,
A potential source of contamination,
Contains mycoplasma.
Filter it at 0.1 μm, or,
Gamma irradiate it.
Aseptic technique,
Necessary.
The laboratory workers be the last,
But not the least source of contamination.
Teach them the ideal laboratory practices,
To ensure asepticity in a laboratory.
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 9:02 PM UTC
the feeling of unwanted fingertips tends to wash over my skin in the same manner that the cold washed over yours
but heat transfers, or lack-there-of.
it was in this way that i became sick,
or maybe the smoke i've filled my lungs with had finally done me in.
i drank cough syrup either way.
i guess i was unaware at the time, but the smell of cherries was what did me in.
cherries, and i felt your hands once again
cherries, and my breathing nearly stopped all at once
cherries, and my hands began to tremble so violently that i dropped the bottle.
cherries, as i leaned over the toilet throwing up sticky sweet memories
cherries, as i drew further and further into myself and, subsequently, closer into your arms
cherries, as my eyes dried from the excessive tears and i could no longer manage any noise.
cherries, as your cold transferred into me and your hands clenched around my wrists
cherries, as the entire weight of your body was laid on top of mine
cherries, and i couldn't move, i couldn't scream, i couldn't see
cherries, as your voice echoed in my mind, preventing me any relief from this nightmare,
cherries.
no, not even the simplest of coughs could find relief under such strain.
because my cough syrup smelled like your red slushee vape juice,
i froze. and i couldn't pick myself up again
i couldn't front the storm, i couldn't slip you into my pocket
i couldn't put you on the back burner.
i couldn't erase you from my mind no matter how many times i tried i couldn't wipe you off of my skin no matter how hard i scrubbed
i couldn't close my eyes without hearing your voice telling me to stay still i cant stop smelling your ******* red slushee vape juice because the scent accompanies every panic attack and every breakdown.
and i sure as hell couldn't stop the blood from flowing once it had started.
the stress that made it hard to breathe had gotten to you, inside of me
and there was so much blood.
the doctor said it was normal for it to be about the same consistency as cherry cough syrup.
i can't drink it anymore.
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 6:16 PM UTC
A cardinal sings-
Its own melody drags it down, preventing flight
A bass filled tune that echoes in a cage of bone
Every day it cries
A hot spring that reflects its color
Streaming onto the rest of the massive prison
A grey man
Older than the prison, as old as the cardinal
Asks “Why do you cry in your lonesome, tender bird?"
The cardinal sings-
Its own melody deepens its intake of air
With a bass filled tune it says: “Because I am alone."
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 4:12 AM UTC
I refuse to risk my life for you
Until you swear to open your eyes.
Eternally forbidden
From preventing
The destruction of caverns.
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 8:42 PM UTC
Last week, Cortney moved into a four story apartment
with seven twenty-something year old roomates, all boys.
The men share the first three floors.
while Cortney has the enire top floor to herself.
I spent the night there saturday night.
And around 10:00pm
a twenty-three year old boy
Blonde, baby faced, named Kevin Smith
stumbled drunk into Cortneys penthouse room.
Kevin smith removed his pants, and crawled into bed with us.
Kevin Smith nuzzled into my face, pulled me close, and rested his hand,
firmly on my ***
Kevin Smiths breath smelled of *** coffee, (and a man who regularly brushes his teeth.
Good Job Kevin Smith.)
At first, Cortney and I assumed Kevin Smith was each other.
after further, mostly-unconcious, inventory of our limbs,
we gathered this was neither the case, nor a hallucination.
Cortney flopped dryly for her cellphone and shined it's light at Kevin Smith.
"What the **** Shouted Cortney.
No response from Kevin Smith.
"What the ****
We got out of bed and put clothes on,
laughed at how ridiculous it was
that a drunk stranger just grabbed my ***
while an unconcious Kevin Smith laid in Cortneys bed.
Kevin Smith sat up
"This is really telling. I uh..."
Cortney cut him off
"Get out."
As she turned on the light.
"Can you guys call my phone?" Asked Kevin Smith,
"No." Said Cortney
Get out of my room."
physically pushing Kevin Smith out of her room.
Cortney held up Kevin Smiths drunk zanax filled body on the stairs.
preventing Kevin Smith from otherwise falling down said stairs and dying.
Kevin Smith showed his appreciation by saying,
"High fives all around"
I watched Cortney strattle drunk Kevin Smith awkwardly, yet also motherly
down the stairs.
I leaned over the railing and high fived Kevin Smith.
"I just want you to know," mumbled Kevin Smith
you guys are my friends.
You don't need to.. I got this".
"No, you really don't" said Cortney,
"if you fall down or throw up on me
you owe me $20"
Cortney delivered Kevin Smith to his bed.
Kevin Smith mumbled something, and Cortney returned upstairs.
"What the **** Laughed Cortney.
"What the **** I replied.
Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 9:16 AM UTC
Here's the new guide on ****** assault prevention
Ladies, sit back for a change.
This one's for men.
It's an easy two word phrase,
"Don't ****
Didn't Mama ever tell you to be patient,
Or to keep your hands to yourself?
Or even to only take what's yours,
And only go to parties that you are invited to?
My body is not yours to take.
And you crashed that party.
These seem like elementary school basics to me.
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 12:39 AM UTC