I heard faint noises downstairs, and I decided to investigate. I pulled on a pair of cut-off jeans and grabbed the old pump shotgun that had served me so well in Viet-Nam from under my bed and crept downstairs to check. My Ranger training came into play, and I moved soundlessly, down the stairs and into the living room. An air of vague shadowy figures were searching through the cabinet that housed my collection of antique silver. I announced my presence in a sudden and intimidating manner: I merely pumped the action of the shotgun, then immediately moved to the right so if anyone shot, he would shoot where I had been, not where I was now. That sound was a language that everyone understood, including the two figures before me. They froze, and were still motionless.

"Mr. Steve?" one of the figures quavered. "Please don't shoot!"

I recognized the voice as belonging to Lisa, the twenty-year-old daughter of my nearest neighbor. I didn't know who the other person was or who else may be in the house, so I kept the shotgun pointed in their direction and hit the light switch with my free hand. Immediately a car cranked up in my driveway, and tires squealing, raced out to the road and away. I looked at my midnight visitors. I recognized Lisa and Julie, who was a close friend of Lisa's and a frequent overnight visitor of hers. They were holding between them a laundry bag containing most of my silver collection. I lowered the muzzle of the cut down shotgun.

"You sure know how to get yourselves killed," I stated. "Mind telling me who was in the car? You don't want to take the rap all by yourselves."

"Please don't shoot! That was Mike, it was all his idea! He made us do it! He said he would put us out and make us walk home if we didn't do it! Are you going to call the Cops?"

Now I could understand why the girls tried to burglarize my home. It was a fifteen-mile walk home in pitch darkness on a moon-less night for the two frightened girls. It was just what a worthless **** like Mike would pull. Knowing what I did about Lisa's boyfriend, I knew what he probably needed the money for. He was nineteen; the only job he had ever had was selling drugs, and I don't mean at the pharmacy. He was a charmer though. Girls fell for his good looks and his charm, and would do anything for him, and he of course chose the best looking one of the bunch, Lisa. She never realized what a slime-ball he really was. The problem was that Lisa didn't have a father to threaten to put a bullet in Mike's behind, and her mother was just as deceived as she was.

"You broke into my house and attempted to steal my belongings. Why shouldn't I?" I said with false sternness. I wouldn't really turn them in, now that I knew the situation. I would give the girls a good scare, then a ride home. Maybe then Lisa would see through Mike's veneer.

"Because we'll do anything you want," Julie offered, speaking for the first time. "Anything at all!"

Julie stepped over and ran her hand up my leg, pausing to tweak the head of my ****, which was hanging out of the leg of my cutoffs. I hadn't bothered to pull on any underwear. Julie was almost as good looking as Lisa was. Both girls had fabulous bodies, large firm ****, and smooth well-rounded *****. Julie had a cute face, whereas Lisa was absolutely beautiful.

"Yes, anything you want to do!" Lisa agreed.

The girls weren't wanton *****, but scared out of their wits and taking the only way out that they could think of. Of course they weren't virgins. It hadn't occurred to me to take advantage of the girls like this, and I would have declined Julie's offer if she hadn't fooled with my **** like that. You see, I was developing an outrageous *******, and with my **** hanging down the leg of some fairly tight shorts, the situation was rapidly becoming painful and serious. I had to get those pants off fast! Also, I hadn't been laid in quite a while. I decided to lay my cards on the line.

"You kids know me. I never had any intention of calling the Cops. I was going to give you a scare to teach you a lesson, then drive you home. Does that mean the offer is withdrawn?"

The girls looked at each other and both breathed a sigh of relief, big smiles on their faces. Lisa winked at Julie. "Nope," Julie said, smiling, "It still stands. Lets go upstairs."

I escorted the girls to my bedroom, pressed the magazine block on the shotgun, pumped out the shell that was still in the chamber, then put it back in the magazine. I tossed it onto the dresser with a loud thump.

I turned around and both girls were stark naked. Lisa came over, dropped to her knees, and planted a wet kiss on the head of my painfully throbbing ****. My ******* became harder still. I had to get out of those cutoffs! Julie solved that problem. She unzipped and unbuttoned them and gently worked them down around my rock-hard ****, allowing it to spring up to freedom.

"Lets get on the bed first," I suggested, "Then we have fun."

"Lay down on your back," Lisa insisted. "Have we got something for you!"

I complied, and Lisa leaned over and put my **** in her hot mouth. Her tongue swirled over the head, ran up and down the shaft, and started over again. I looked over at Julie and she was watching avidly. Not having anything better to do with my hands, I reached between her legs and caressed her ****. Julie gasped with surprise, then spread her legs. Her **** was already hot and wet, so I slid my ******* in all the way, then started finger ******* her and massaging her **** with my thumb. Her **** hardened and grew. Julie had her eyes closed and was erotically tweaking her ***** *******. She was slowly lowering her body, deepening the ******* of my finger, and rocking her hips back and forth, intensifying the stroking of her ****. Julie's hot ***** juices ran down my hand while Lisa's mouth was still working on my throbbing ****.

I began to draw my hand from Julie's sopping wet ****, but she grabbed it and held it tightly to her crotch. I pulled my hand now, and she came with it. I grabbed her thigh and swung her leg over me, so she was now sitting on my chest. I pulled my finger from her hungry ****, grabbed her ***, and pulled her ****** right up to my face. As soon as I flicked her **** with the tip of my tongue, she went wild, ******* my face, filling my nostrils with the sweet aroma of her **** juices. I thought I would give her all the licking she could handle. I rammed my tongue into her ****-hole with all my might, then gently nibbled on her ****. Apparently she had a low threshold, as this was all she could stand.

"Oh God, I'm coming!" she screamed, ground her **** into my face one more time, quivered, then collapsed sideways onto the bed.

One down, one to go. I looked at Lisa, still ******* my **** for all she was worth. I was nearing the end of my endurance, and I still hadn't had my **** in any hot **** yet. I grabbed Lisa's shoulders and pulled her mouth from my ****. I turned her around and held her up, her blonde ***** triangle just inches over my waiting tool.

"Give it to her! Now!" Julie whispered.

Lisa's **** didn't look wet or ready to take anything in it yet, but my **** was ready to take some *****. Julie reached over and spread the lips to Lisa's still dry *****, and began tweaking her ****. Lisa gasped her surprise at her most private place being touched by another chick. Within seconds though, her **** and inner ***** lips began to swell, and her juices started flowing. I slowly lowered Lisa to my rod, admiring her glistening pinkness. Julie guided my throbbing rod into Lisa's wet love hole.

"Please, be careful! Ah-h-h-h! Go slow, I'm so tight!"

I lowered Lisa very carefully, for her hot ****-hole was indeed the tightest ***** I had ever felt. With that in mind, I fought the urge to slam her down on my eager ****. As soon as she was down, I grabbed her *** and began sliding her back and forth. Lisa bit her lip as a tear trickled down from one eye.

"Stop, Mr. Steve! It's hurting her!" Julie commanded. Then to Lisa, "You haven't done it much, have you?"

"Just once, with Mike, and he isn't this big. It hurt then, too!" Lisa sobbed. "I wanted so bad to do it with Mr. Steve because he's been so nice to me, and I was so scared when I saw how big he was. Oh, it hurts!"

"You'd better get up then." I reassured, "I don't want to do anything to you that you don't want me to do."

"I want to go on, really I do! But don't you have anything I could use to make it easier?"

"Yeah, any Vaseline, or KY jelly, or something like that?" Julie asked.

"I have some KY jelly in the bathroom." I answered.

Julie jumped up and padded into the bathroom. I watched her naked *** jiggle as she left.

"You're gonna have to get up." I told Lisa. I gently lifted her ***. She bit her lip again and moaned as my **** slowly withdrew from her tortured hole. With a pop from her *****, a shriek burst from her lips as my **** sprung from her nearly dry ****-hole. She knelt on the bed next to me, softly crying, clutching herself where it hurt. I realized that she had been wrong in pretending to be so eager. A more gentle approach was needed.

I reached over, pulled her to me, and kissed her lips passionately. She ****** once in surprise, then melted into my arms, returning my kiss, forgetting the pain in her ****. I ran my hand around to her firm **** and gently stroked her *******, feeling them harden under my touch. I pulled my mouth from hers and kissed the point of each hard ******. She moaned and gasped with each touch of my lips, but from pleasure this time, not from pain. While I had her aroused, I lightly traced circles on her tummy with my finger, each circle going lower and lower, until I finally reached the blonde **** of her ***** hair. Slowly, I reached down and cupped her ***** with my hand, being careful not to press too hard or insert my finger. I would know when she was ready for *******. She responded with a **** and a gasp. I pressed again, and she gasped again. I kissed each firm ****** one last time, then started kissing down her tummy to her love nest, which was now warming and starting to respond to my touch.

I spread her legs and gently ran the tip of my tongue the full length of her slit. When I reached the vicinity of her ****, she reacted as though she had been shocked. She arched her back, pressing her **** against my face. Maybe she was ready. I probed again with my tongue, harder this time, hard enough to separate her ****-lips and tickle her ****. She went mad again, jerking and twitching in response to the touch of my tongue, moaning and panting. Then I felt her **** harden, her inner lips swell and spread, and her delicious juices start to flow. Now she was definitely ready for more. I probed her ****-hole with my tongue, licked all the way up to her ****, swirled it around, bit it gently, and then probed her hole again. When I started doing all this, she went even wilder. She spread her legs, ****** and reared against my face, and pulled my head tight against her hot cooze.

"Oh-h-h-h-h, **** me," she moaned, "I can't stand it any more! I don't care if it does hurt! Please, please **** me!"

I put her throbbing **** between my lips and gave it one hard ****, drawing it completely into my mouth, and pulled my head back sharply, causing her **** to pop back. She screamed, ****** her hips at me, and grabbed her sweating *******.

When she had subsided, her legs still spread, I mounted her in the traditional position. I started to position my throbbing pole for a gentle entry, but Lisa released her **** and spread her ****-lips with one hand and guided my tool to her sopping wet ****-hole with the other. She was much wetter now than when Julie diddled her ****, wet enough to ****.

"Please do it now!" Lisa pleaded.

I began to insert my **** cautiously, and found that due to her juices, entry was no problem. Lisa groaned like a ****** as I slid into her hot wetness. When she had taken as much of my ten-inch tool as she could, I still wasn't all the way in. But she began pumping her hips, causing the swollen head of my **** to ram against the back of her *****. She was as deliciously tight as before, but she must have been stretching, for with just a few strokes, my ***** were slapping against her ***, and I was in to the hilt. My tenderness and foreplay had paid off.

"Oh-h-h-h, that's good!" she purred when I began pumping to meet her rhythm. She wrapped her legs around my waist, and was pumping as hard as I was. With each stroke, I would completely withdraw from her hot, tight wetness, then shove my eager tool back in to the hilt, never missing her voracious target, always sliding easily in, jamming against the back of her *****.

Her pumping increased in tempo, and I sped up to match. Each pump became harder and more frantic than the one before. Lisa's breathing became harder and faster. She was about to come, and I wanted to come with her. I raised her legs over my shoulders so that I had a better angle at the depths of her tight hole, and started ramming as hard as I could.

"Don't stop! I think I'm gonna come! Oh-h-h, its so good! Come in me! Oh, please, I want to feel your load in me!" Lisa screamed. She bucked and reared and screamed incoherently, then went limp. I continued to pump. In just a few seconds, she began to pump anew. For more times than I could count, she orgasmed.

Once I felt my ****** approaching, I gave her one last hard ram and drove my weapon in as far as I could. I came at this point, spurting her sweet, tender Steve **** full of my hot sticky come, like an erupting volcano. She gasped, trembled, and fell back to the bed. I pulled out my softening ****. Our ****** energies were spent for the moment.

I glanced down at the foot of the bed, and saw Julie, whom I had forgotten. She sat in the chair at the foot of the bed, her legs spread, working a coke bottle in and out of her *****. She had found the KY jelly, then found us ******* away. Feeling left out but excited by the ****** sight of her best friend getting a good *******, she slicked up the coke bottle and began using it as a *****.

I saw that Lisa also was seeing something she had never seen before, her best friend's ****, gaping open, a coke bottle almost disappearing inside it. "Look how far in she puts it! And see how big it is to go in her like that. How does she do it?" Lisa asked, amazed.

"Why don't you get a closer look," I suggested. "Ask her." Lisa crawled down to the foot of the bed and sat on the end, astounded, watching Julie *******.

Julie finally looked down, under heavy-lidded eyes and saw Lisa so close. "Why don't you do this for me?" Julie asked.

"How?" Lisa queried.

"Just do what I'm doing now," came Julie's reply. Lisa watched for a few seconds more, then pushed Julie's hand aside and grasped the slippery end of the bottle. "In and out, and twist it a little bit. Oh, yes-s-s, oh, yes-s-s. Do it good, oh, that's so good!" Julie purred.

My **** was hardening again at the sight of one female ******* another.

I had an idea. If Julie was as promiscuous as she seemed, she might not object to what I had in mind. While Lisa continued to work the bottle in Julie's stretched ****, I helped Julie out of the chair and down to the floor, her heaving **** on the floor, her *** up in the air. She stayed in the position, crooning wordlessly, **** juice dribbling down her thighs, Lisa still ******* her.

I picked up the tube of KY jelly that Julie had used, and liberally covered my ***** rod with it. Then I stood behind Julie, straddling Lisa.

"What are you going to do?" Lisa asked.

"Watch and see!" I responded. With that I grasped Julie's hips and aimed my **** at the delicate rosette of Julie's ***. Using my **** like a weapon, I suddenly shoved my tool in as far as I could. Julie let out a scream, tearing out fistfuls of carpet.

"Oh God, **** my ***! That hurts so good! **** me harder, give me all you've got! Make it hurt! Give me more of that bottle!"

"I'm ***-******* Julie!" I informed Lisa, who was now completely mind-blown.

I needed no invitation, and neither did Lisa. Both of us gave Julie all we could, Lisa with the bottle in Julie's ****, me with my **** far up Julie's clenching ***. Julie rocked back to take us both in, then forward, then back for more. I couldn't see

A white dove turned black yesterday
and I wonder if peace can be a piece of me. If my  body gets broken down into segments and thrown in a body I'm pretty sure I'll come out the soil of my mothers land.
Less recarnation but more invention.
Ideas thought about for a long time only to be released by another mind.
See thats the problem we hold on the tightest to things that carry less weight. See Gravity  can be a real *****,
but I love the way it holds my mind in place.

I burnt down the metal cage
that confined me

I have broken up with God
and I am blossoming

without his hand pushing
my head down

I eat blackberries straight from
the bush

tasting the dirt where they grew
the tightest bud bursting

into fruit that nurtures me
that sustains me

I am Godless and cageless
I am a woman of

flames, starting fires
wherever I go

burning, burning, turning
into ash

into the very dirt I courted
with my purple stained

lips

Why are weeds considered ugly plants?
They are but the most beautiful anomaly in this cruel and unfair world.
Despite the lack of water and necessary care,
they still manage to find a way through the tightest and inhospitable of cracks,
chasing the warm kiss of the sun,
and to be showered by the cleansing rain.
But when they do overcome their hardships,
greedy, unrelenting hands reach down,
and strip them from the earth,
pulling out their roots,
and throwing them away.
Then the place that they worked so hard to exist in,
is taken over by some eye-pleasing blossom.
Real beauty is not found in those that are given everything,
but rather in that of striving to simply be,
to overcome obstacles,
and rise above,
no matter the circumstance.
There is something beautiful about that fight and determination,
and nothing profound about a flower that is nourished with constant love and affection,
because they will only grow to be weak and fragile.

I once read the lines
“Practically on top of us
is a girl
with long brown hair
a black hoodie
and the tightest jeans I have ever seen
I automatically hate her
because those jeans
make her look good”
From a book

This mentality bothers me
I mean
Why can't we
Admire another girl's beauty
Instead of becoming jealous
Or envious of it
While attempting to find
A flaw of theirs
To counteract their beauty
Why can't we just appreciate it
While loving ourselves
Completely
Without making ourselves feel less
Important
Or desirable
Or worthy
Because they have something
That is "better"
Which is entirely subjective
Due to the fact
That there are many opinions
Of what being beautiful
Aesthetically means
Since there are many people
In this world
Which in itself
Is beautiful

old makeup spilled on my floor
***** clothes strewn on my floor

You can hardly see the carpet for all the clothes carelessly being trodden on.

Blue holiday lights are strung around the mirror.

I am watching Andy Warhol eating a hamburger
I am watching Andy Warhol eating a hamburger
on a new, thousand dollar laptop, slick-as-a-whistle, paid with a magnetic swipe.

For the past six months,
I have had less than four hundred $
combined in checking and savings,
and that number dwindles by the day.

I have no groceries,
but I've got fistfuls of orange prescription bottles,
and I was handing pills out like treats and candy.

(but they are needed, much and every day)

Where did all these bills come from?
Money is paper, but it means things.
Suddenly, it costs money to breathe.

Eating? Oh pshaw, that costs money, time, and the store's six blocks away.
We can subside on government cheese, beans, and the fiery licks of whiskey.

I pout on my throne of ***** cotton, thinking
"I get what I ask for, when I ask, and it always comes--at a price!" I sigh.

It's always over a hundred dollars more than I could spare
and brings bad luck, moreso than a couple broken mirrors would,
smashed over a the front of your mother's blackest cat.

"Quick! Let's do designer drugs with the paltry change given by our parents, given as allowance!
I wouldn't feel like I wasn't nothing, nothing at all," I say, batting my eyelashes, "Wouldn't they feel proud of our feelings of entitlement to the greater things in life and consciously responsible adult-like decisions?"

I crack open my father's checking account with that swipe of a magnetic strip,
it makes me seem responsible when he sees I just use it for pills and foodstuff.

(I prove I love him, and he loves me in this way)

Now, together, we will buy strawberries with his money, until our lips are pink.
They must be four dollars, at the very least, then we eat like the bourgeoisie (!)

I kiss the cheeks of my reflection in the bathroom
"Como ca va, darling? Comme si comme sa. . ."
I lick my lips, put on red lipstick and then blot,
tousling my hair, tipsy, as I touch up my face by
licking the tips of eyeliner up like a cat's little tail,
the ends of eyes, coated with eyeliner as black as
my tightest velvet pants and dark, dark heart.

We go together. You and me.

Lying on the floor, holding hands, in vinyl bliss
listening to the crooning of sweet Francoise Hardy,
and the addictions of the near-dead soul of Lou Reed

You should move to a big city
and I'll come call, prepaid, with
a voice that is thick and ripped,
from expensive French cigarettes
chattering of sugar-white beaches
as I cross the seas all on a plane,
burning money all along the way
all the while drunk on red wine,
twirling my fingers around, with
bags under eyes, a little anemic

(I think it adds to the glamour)

We will go out to a dimly lit place
We will go out dancing then after

I will put on dab perfume under my ears and on my wrists,
I will wear black tights for pants, but first, do a little *******
and you will fasten the clasp on my silver necklace tonight,
while I smoke, before helping me put on my favorite fur

And we will go see Andy, at the factory
I hear he's doing something
with that Basquiat fellow (!)

I will go follow false luxuries, come with me.
I will gamble with you in Monte Carlo or Las Vegas,

just as long as you pay my rent at $695 per month,
and keep pretending,
until I die, or overdose, or something.

Hadn't been seen in a while
Reasons why the smile was so much bigger
The tightest hugs I've ever gotten
The shimmer in eyes filled with joy
To just sit on a bench
At a park
Talking
Stories beginning of new conversations
Laughs and smiles
Your attire all black
Black button up, rolled up sleeves
Black tie you removed after a while
I proceeded to steal that tie
Laughing, hugging
Pulled out your phone
Attemted to take a photo together
I refused
The reasoning being I was simply too shy
Even though that friendship meant the world to me
Walked for hours just talking
I miss that
I miss the friendship worth fighting for.

-Kathia Mariana Landeros

Dear future love,
I wonder where you are, who you are, what you do, what are your likes & dislikes, have we met before or how are we gonna meet, many such question triggers.
It's weird to think that you are me (I am you) living in different house, or city or may be in some other country altogether.
This may be my first writing to you in particular, but this isn't my last.
I want to write this letter to you may be cause when after few years you'll be reading this & comparing the things I've written & things I'll actually follow, will abruptly make you smile.
You know, It's gonna be worth the wait.
I hate waiting, but if it's waiting for you, I'll wait.
I want to show our kids what true love looks like, so if they find it for themselves they'll never let it go,
I'll love you when you'll forget to love yourself,
I'll gently walk besides you & let you lead,
I'll respect your every decision,
I'll always light the darkest of our paths,
I'll hold your hand while we grocery shop,
I'll always read your eyes & hug you the tightest,
I'll sing you to sleep,
I'll never stop flirting with you,
I'll understand the truth behind your "I'm okay"
I'll ask you things & in your hesitation, I'll find my answer,
I'll wear your hoodies in winters,
I'll make you the food of your choice, you need to eat & applaud even if it isn't qualified,
I'll irritate you with my repetitive calls when you'll be at work,
I'll always write you something on our monthly & yearly anniversaries even if you find it stupid,
I'll choose you clothes to wear for the day,
I'll cover you with the blanket every time you'll remove it throughout the night,
I'll pretend to enjoy your snoring tunes & get myself habitual listening to sleep,
I'll always pull your cheeks whenever you'll act cute may it be in front of your friends,
I'll clean your nose whenever you'll lick your ice-cream like a kid,
I'll make you listen the ******* of my whole day & will cross question to make sure you were listening,
I'll ask you the stupidest questions that will hit my mind,
I'll hug you whenever I'll feel low & will always cry on your shoulder,
I'll recognise your body smell of every kind,
I'll admire your all forms, the good & the less good,
I'll embrace the darks & the scars,
I'll adore you till my last breath,
I'll take care of you as your mother, treat you as a baby & elucidate sometimes as your father,
We'll sit on our rooftop & gossip some night,
When in doubt, we'll grab a blanket, run away & watch the stars,
When you'll be late at home, I'll wait for you to eat together,
When you'll get over drunk, I'll remove your shoes & let you sleep with peace for the next day interrogation,
When you'll get angry upon me for no reason, I'll never argue & understand your frustration & give you a big smile to say it's okay,
When you'll get cold & will keep me away, I'll cuddle you tighter & say let's get sick together,
When we'll fight, I'll say sorry even if it isn't my mistake, cause i cannot resist talking to you,
When we'll go out, I'll always hold your arm cause showing you off is my duty,
When you'll get nervous of anything, I'll push you up,
When we'll watch some midnight horror, I'll sit in your lap & hold you the tightest even when it isn't that scary,
When we'll play cricket on picnics, you've to treat me with ease,
When insomnia will hit me, you need to talk with me even when you're sleepy,
When you'll be sleeping till late in weekends, i'll kiss your forehead & quietly tiptoe out to my work,
When we'll go for long drives, I'll tease you to stop the car for stupid things, while your fingers interwoven with mine in motion,
When we both will turn to our 60s-70s, I'll kiss your wrinkled cheeks with no teeths,
You'll be my entire life,
You'll be the reflection of my soul,
You'll be the proof that "god still loves me".
I love you
for all that you are,
all that you've been
& all that you're yet to be.

Some days I swear my brain in burning....
Just can't ignore it, it's too distracting
& honestly quite disturbing
But the ******* just keeps on occurring
****!!....See I can feel it now, it's returning
I don't know what the **** is going down in my brain
It's so intense & twisted, I  wouldn't even begin to know how to explain....
....I suppose, maybe, it's like you're trippin' on acid while listening to Black Hole
Sun  or Acid Rain
There's so much going on, it's more than I can handle, too much to contain
& this happens daily, pretty soon it'll be all sanity ****** into the drain
Now see.....there it went, just as quickly as it came
It's a complete & utter mind **** game
Just when I start to enjoy it
It tells me, JUST KIDDING, I QUIT!!!
I'm getting ******* tired of its ****!!
Either go away & don't return
Or ******* stay & commit
But this come & go
None sense I'm beginning to really ******* hate
I'm not interested in what you're dishing out upon your plate
Because every time I attempt to sample off it, I end up in some twisted mental
state
Locked away for not two, three or four days double that!!
YUP ******* EIGHT!!
After finally coming back to reality
& clearing up my damaged mentality
Yup, there goes a little more of my integrity
Before you know it, I'll be judged by the eyes of society
But you know what....
**** IT, it will only make better & I'll remain, still, with my sick ***
personality
So bring it on random feeling
Throw your worst at me,
You'll get 86'd like Al Kapone
I'm now in savage mode
Nothing's going to mess with me, not even your tightest hold
So tell me.... "How does it feel to be shut out in the cold?"
I've figured out your evil mission & it sure as hell will be made
IMPOSSIBLE!!
Because this girl right here is simply unstoppable
So hurry up & hop back on your little tricycle
You wouldn't want to freeze up now, like a popsicle
&& that's how you win a fight without once getting physical
So here I'm left to sit alone
All I'm left with are pupils noticeably dilated
After my brain was rudely invaded
Like it was a trap house getting ransacked & raided
But I was done being mind ****** & violated
With all I had in me I fought & I can proudly say I MADE IT!
So the results are in....
&& guess what *******....I WIN!!

British telecom has elevated expenses to its line local rental and call up rates to the third quantity of a year. At any given time when home budget is inside their tightest, BT are making the choice to improve charges, making the normal cell phone monthly bill get out of ?Eighty three in order to ?17 per year.

BT's traditional residential phone contact expenditure is getting larger 9 % to 7.Half-dozen pence a moment, up coming from Several.4p just one last year. A supplier's series local rental costs are furthermore rising through 30p every thirty days, to ?A few.90. Prospects nonetheless shelling out their costs by means of income will likely shell out 60p monthly more, with additional rates regarding services for example phone patiently waiting proceeding by ?.60 to 70 monthly to ?. BT in addition have clipped their evening hours off-peak intervals rear sixty minutes, to 7pm.

The modern get in touch with price tag improvements should come straight into affect on 04 Twenty eighth. It's supposed to affect the 4 million BT buyers that aren't about all-inclusive simply call plans. However, the more expensive line leasing charges may have an impact on most BT buyers no matter what which usually company they can be using.

Robert Wilson, cellular in addition to high speed office manager during moneysupermarket.com, said: "We have seen plenty of selling price mobility within the land line current market just lately and also sadly to get shoppers the majority of the goes happen to be to boost the expense of obtaining and employing your house telephone line.In

Pure Marketing improved it is selling prices simply by 6 % last year, plus Sky's set to lift it has the charges throughout 06 eventhough it has not yet mentioned how much. TalkTalk in addition plans to raise call prices by means of 06 % plus series procurment by simply A couple of per cent.

"Other companies will inevitably stick to BT, once we observed using repetitive copycat value rises really,In . claimed Wilson. "This most recent selling price increase will do minor to ease the rising prices that Britain industry is going through."

Households can confront further expenses caused by the availability associated with high speed broadband in order to countryside spots. "It's true that the phone system companies are pressurized to get the roll-out regarding broadband to countryside regions," stated Paul Doku, engineering qualified from uSwitch. "It appears to be however that telephone instead of broadband prospects might be paying off the cost."

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http://www.passwordmanagers.net/resources/How-to-Cleverly-Use-the-NSIS-as-a-ZIP-Password-*******-54.html ZI­P Password *******

Some say your greatest enemy is yourself
That lesser you inside, that little puppet, that elf
Strings to your fingers, strings to your toes
One to your spine and one to your nose
   You can tumble and crash and he’ll be unbroke
Witty and gritty, as elusive as smoke
Post tumble’s when he’s most likely to speak
His strings are strung tightest, whenever you’re weak
   Not to wait then, until you are broken
Give him the stage and he’ll have already spoken
He feeds best on virtue, this gritty little elf
So feed him his share, as you would your belly’s self
   Virtues is the sort, that means then not vices
His tastes may seem bland so be weary of spices
Heed not this advice, and we’ve a puppet…
Left to his own devices
   Not worth getting clever, don’t saw at those strings
You’ll soon find out they’re sinewy things
Introduce yourselves; it could help if you’ve met
The you inside you,
                                  that mischievous marionette

There's a fella you've all heard of
From a sandy foreign place
He was sent down by his daddy
From somewhere in outer space
He died and he came back again
Then he hit the dusty road
Now he's there for me with a helping hand
When I've almost dropped my load

Jesus is my barman
I munch his salty nuts
He fills me up with lovin'
Till it rumbles in my guts
He's my one almighty Hoover
He ***** off all my sin
To all my tricky crevices
He bravely enters in

He eases through my tightest spots
He's always got my back
He lubricates my passage
Down the narrow winding track
He tinkers with my plumbing
Removes my stubborn stains
Then with his holy implement
He firmly rods my drains

Jesus is my bell-boy
In his elevatin' craft
He pushes on my button
Then he takes me up the shaft
He's my fire fighting saviour
When flames begin to roar
He grabs his mighty helmet
And he breaks in my back door

He's captain of my ******
Commander of my boats
Don't worry if you're sinkin' fast
Cos Jesus always floats
If you're cold and need to light a fire
The lord is right and good
There's one thing he's remembered for
It’s always having wood

Jesus is my dentist
He drills me with his bit
He fills up all my cavities
Then I gargle and I spit
And one day when it’s legal
We'll end our secret fling
With his ring on my finger
And his finger in my ring

I lie and watch her as she sleeps
It's then I see her soul truly weep
You can tell by the way in which she moves
She has seen more than her fair share of abuse

She is always curled into the tightest ball
Arms covering her head, waiting for the fall
To many times awoken with angry fist
This is the way her body was always kissed
Cries of No echoing, disturb her silent night
As in her dreams, again she puts up a fight

The morning sun brings no sign of relief
Staggering under the weight of all the grief
Some days she can hide it all so well
Cheery voice, plastered smile no one can tell
But most days it only thunders, only storms
As emotions ripp through her like razor thorns

She whispers when she thinks no one can hear
"I'm so tired of feeling like this for so many years
Way beneath the surface... a lot more agony no one can see
Like an iceberg lost and floating, that is me"

I gently touch and wake her up, masking what's within my eyes
Yes, I wear my own disguise
Her beautiful essence hypnotized as it taunts
I'm scared of these feelings I don't want

Terrified one day she will just disappear
Falling forever through her darkened atmosphere
I don't know what to do, her eyes desperately pleads, "don't give up"
I fear I'm not even close to good enough
But she already tied my heart to hers with diamond tread
So I'll hold this bleeding angel that graces my bed

Escape from what?
The pieces impalpable
Once part of thy self, are
Nowhere to be found
How many times will you try
To cope up
From some feeling
Very profound.

Escape from what?
Your own self or the world
Is only one force governing you?
Or is it dyarchy, through and through!
You try to split from the other
But it has an embrace
Around you
With the tightest glue

Escape from what?
The happy or the gloom
Calm or chaos,
You do have a clue
Or do you?
Is it numb or very eerie
Always sad, never cheery?

Escape from what?
Reality, harsh and smooth
O dear, stay here
It is going to be a tough root
Though all the impalpable
Would unravel
Someday on a blue moon!

Every morning I go underneath the Earth
I leave the trees behind to walk upon concrete
A utopia of green and blue
For a dystopia of gray and black
Trying to maximize my worth
A weekly void to fill
Means to survive
Off of hands I do not want touching me
They have the tightest grip around my throat
More is not enough
Everything I have I turn over
To breathe air that they poison
Drinking the water they have polluted
I scream and I shake and I cry
How can they do this?
Why is everyone okay with this?
Do we have no say?

Blind power
I look around me
You are all staring at a small screen
A device they have handed you
You even paid them for it
And now it distracts you
From the poison they feed you
A revolution! Please, I beg
Around me blank stares
She wore it best, he's dating that *****
Wake up I plead
There is no power left of the people
Willing wrists
To be cuffed

Think about the brightest star
Ever to grace the midnight sky
Think about the softest glow
That can bring a smile alive

Think about the tranquil bliss
That each morning fills our hearts
Think about the softest touch
Which you never want to depart

Think about the tightest embrace
The one which takes breath away
Think about the most beautiful kiss
Which you found ever to grace your day

Then you will always be reminded of
The treasured glow which lives inside
Whenever I feel the magical touch
Which embraces me daily from your eyes.

If the world were to end today,
I’d probably say to myself.
wow, looks like I only have 24 hours left in this world huh?
I’d spend the 1st half by grabbing my family members, give them the tightest hug I can give, and tell them that I love them, and thank them for everything. I’d probably apologize too.
And I’d probably start to shake, like a child craving for sugar.
All jittery, shaking from the thought, that I will only have 24 hours to figure out,
how to muster up the courage to tell you the things I’ve been wanting to say.
I’ve already done the math, and I’d be spending 2/3rds of my remaining time here, just getting to your house a midst the traffic.
and 3/4ths trying to bring you to the nearest mountain for us to watch the sunset, as the world crumbled away beneath us.

If the world were to end today.
I would grab my heart, whisper all the things I love about you,
seal it and then bury it into the depths of your existence.
In the hopes that when God is digging through the mine cave of your heart, he'll find it, and then open it like a time capsule, filled with all the things that we enjoyed, like cheese, long walks, spontaneous hangouts, and like our memories.
That when God opens it,
He’ll see a yellow sticky note, requesting Him to read it to you.
attached to a letter written in orange ink that I wrote specially for you.


If the world were to end today,
I’d like to get lost, In the spirals found in your eyes.
Your eyes is the number 1 thing in my list of favorite things.
Because they remind me of space, and galaxies that I would never ever get the chance to explore, knitted together by constellations that spell out your name.

And dear,
Our kiss will be like 2 galaxies colliding against each other,
Giving birth to a new galaxy.

But you know what, that got me thinking.
And I remember that when the big bang happened, or when a super nova happens.
That wasn't really the end of everything.
They all seem to signify a brand new start.
So I guess
The idea of the world ending, wouldn't bother me as much anymore.
Cause with us fading away,
Our molecules, atoms whatever we're composed of, will eventually find it's back to us.
And when that happens,
I'd be like a brand new star.
Because I know that i'd be able to see you again.
Like God saying again, "Let there be light." And there was light.

And for me that's like God saying again "Let there be you." And again there was you.

freedom is a funny thing
what would dreams bring
but calamity (and loss
tears superfluous waste of water)

slow treading in treacle
hold absent flora to the wind face
cross eyed glory on a pale mask

no extending big hand
to the child who doles out water
to babes from ***** papercups

scratching scoops of brown mess
amid domesticated fauna
in the middle of nowhere land

feet rubbing for warmth
an ever going stipple wagon
a small blanket the only cover

one scooter holds too many
open beauty closing too soon
supply demand coercing blank stare


impasse holds the keeper hostage
some up - some down
no break from unbroken cycle

the dreamer lives forever on
inside the tightest cage
and knows there's little cure

yet within full ironic view
lies the priceless key to unlock
dark eyes implore me to take you

anything is possible
                                                                ­      yes
                                                       ­               anything
dreamer, dreamer
open dreamer

open your dream wings

Sometimes it can be hard to know her skin

the way she likes to hide

and never let somebody in.



But even so she's like roses,

and their fallen petals 

floating in the wind.



Caught in the zephyr,

my hands stretched to their limit;

and even with the tightest grip, 

they still slip through my fingers.

Interlaced the same stem,

Woman to woman

That old teenage *******.



Red lipstick smeared across our face, 

Her laughter in my mouth,

and God I love the way it tastes.

As I laid awake
I dreamt of
A morning scene

Where you would open your eyes
and see something impossible to believe
I’d have risen before you- we both now know
This is just imagination- I could not wake anything
resembling the word early.

But I did,
the bittersweet draft flowing through my home
curiosity walks you from the silver-grey linen wrapped around your legs
and the afternoon rays flood your sigh, and you will squint
the morning from your eyes
I will hope that I had gotten the eggs over easy
just right

I’ll see you and open the fridge, pouring you a glass of orange juice
“Omar, you actually did it” these words will flow out of your lips
And I will melt faster than the butter that’ll go on your pancakes.
Yet, I’ll remain cool and composed, give you my tightest smirk
And offer Florida’s best to you,
ushering you on to the beige couch I’ve been wanting to replace,
“Relax, it’s
only breakfast”
even though we both know this is unusual
I’ll throw something chill on to listen to:
Majestic Casual.

The playlist will go on shuffle and Imogen Heap will play
Something I know you know and
I’ll smile like I had known it was to start.

I’ll jump up quick,
reactive as I normally am
scurrying back alongside my kittens, meowing at my heels, to the kitchen
Two yellow pupils contrasted by a black face staring back at me
saying, “You had it right on the practice run; not when it counts”
I’ll grimace and
hunt from cabinet to cabinet looking for a plate
knowing each second,
the succulent gilded interior was hardening

and of course, the serving dish is in the last compartment I check
I’ll slide the golden eyes on to the white porcelain
and proclaim, “breakfast is ready.”
Bringing the array of food to the makeshift dining room in the center
of my apartment, you’ll stand and walk over
and my eyes will trail your after you.

We’ll each fill a plate and take a seat on the couch
I’ll stretch and yawn, reminded of the cup of coffee that woke me earlier in the kitchen.
You’ll try those eggs as I make my way there
and you will tell me,

“These are definitely over hard”
and I’ll only respond with “It’s that bad?
Not even over medium?”
thinking I had saved myself with a lame joke.
You’ll give me eyes that plainly state,
“Are you kidding me?”

“I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll make sure to under cook them.”
And you’ll toss back at me, “How do you know
there’ll be a next time?
You had your chance.”

and I’ll whine and you’ll stop me
by saying “I’m joking!”
and I’ll be so thankful to have shared my least
favorite of meals
with you
and I’ll offer to make it
up to you with dinner.

I know though
this is only a daydream
when I failed to sleep
these nights without you.

366

Although I put away his life—
An Ornament too grand
For Forehead low as mine, to wear,
This might have been the Hand

That sowed the flower, he preferred—
Or smoothed a homely pain,
Or pushed the pebble from his path—
Or played his chosen tune—

On Lute the least—the latest—
But just his Ear could know
That whatsoe’er delighted it,
I never would let go—

The foot to bear his errand—
A little Boot I know—
Would leap abroad like Antelope—
With just the grant to do—

His weariest Commandment—
A sweeter to obey,
Than “Hide and Seek”—
Or skip to Flutes—
Or all Day, chase the Bee—

Your Servant, Sir, will weary—
The Surgeon, will not come—
The World, will have its own—to do—
The Dust, will vex your Fame—

The Cold will force your tightest door
Some February Day,
But say my apron bring the sticks
To make your Cottage gay—

That I may take that promise
To Paradise, with me—
To teach the Angels, avarice,
You, Sir, taught first—to me.

You ripped the wings off of her so suddenly that, ****, I didn't see it coming.
Well, to make it fair, I wasn't there. ****, that's so unbecoming
of you. Well, *******. How could you?

She used to soar into her dreams a lot—her dreams that featured you.
You and her, together—storming all the weather, and all the idioms I have wronged before.
I'll be frank, kid, I've always known it was so much much more.

I'm a cynical ******* but I know beauty when I see one, recognized hope—
as hopeful as her hope could get, despite all the steep, slippery slopes
that could have, should have pushed her off the edge, but didn't.

Because she believed in you.
She believed in wrapping oneself in soft flimsy shell, and waiting for it to harden
until it can finally protect you—metamorphosis was what she believed in.
Like the monarch butterfly, she believed in it all.
She believed in larvae and crawling for the emerald pupaic goal.

She believed you'll grow wings one day, for you're only just a kid
She kept waiting and waiting, won't let you open the lid
of her jar. She loved her jar but she loves you more.

You love her, too, I can tell. Don't tell me otherwise.
I'd be insulted, little kid. Oh, but wouldn't it feel nice
to disprove my accusations, Mr. J the Ripper?

For months, you pulled her wings apart ever so slowly
So slow, in fact, that I somehow hoped you would stop and proceed to sew it back
But you never did—no, you ripped her ******* wings off, bones fractured with loud cracks!

YOU RIPPED HER ******* WINGS OFF, YOU ******* WATERSAC.

I've only seen the horrid wound once and I can still smell the ichor from her back.
I must commend you though, since decency was something you lived not to lack.
I just wish you'd grown the wings she wished for you to have.
But that cocoon must have felt cozy, so you never really left.
I'd like to be polite now so beware of your first steps.

You'll see the flesh whose skin you tore enough to expose.
You'll see her face everywhere, in poems and in prose.

(Now, I must bring my poem to a close.)

And like the monarch butterfly, dear, she will remember—
not just one, but all of it: all the pain you caused her,
hurt you chose not to lift—dreams that used to hold her adrift
Young lad, she'll remember everything
I assure you: She will remember every. Single. Thing.

(I wish your heart the heaviest of anvils, your mouth the tightest of zippers, your limbs the strongest of chains. I wish you luck, lad. I sincerely do.)

I will hold you
Tightest
When you feel most
Alone

Titans clashing
In writing classes
Sessions
To profess progression
Or
Progress to professions
Blessings
Brought through the lessons
Learned
In College
A student as truant
As undeserved triumph
In the form
Of a form
That says what he’s worth
Diplomas
Handed out
To show
You’re on the road
To success
The rest are asked
The ultimate question
Of “Why not?”
Embarking on the quest
When the ultimatum
Is failure

Fail lures in
Those with no ambition
Men *******
About getting papers
To show worth
Working with no
Apparent purpose
Versus
Being apparently worthless
Pairing the two
Against the view
Of a *****
Who stares at the moon
And gives a ****
About the bull
The one
Whose wit
Could split
The tightest knit
Brain
And undue the sutures
Of skulls
To undue
Their mundane
View of success

The *****
Who calls himself
A *****
With more pride
Than Aryans
Carrying his opinion
Higher
Than the mass vision
Just to show
How low
They truly are
Arrogantly ignorant
Ignore rants
Of others
And smother them
With the truth
Of knowing nothing
And understands
They’ll never understand

Overstepping the boundaries
Without
Diplomatic immunity
Yet immune
To the qualities
Of the Hippocratic views
And sees
To seize the future
You must
Tackle the present problems
You must blitz
To get you’re quarter back
If you want
To make a change
And sport all the qualities
That seem to them
Strange
Deranged
In the range
Of misunderstandings

The illusion of progress
For humans
Are usually
Said in words
And never
Set in stone
So I will throw
Sticks and stone
The stupidity that’s grown
Words hurt
But actions hurt worser

For example:
Worser
Isn’t a word
Until I worsen the
Worst situation

I’m waiting
For my chance
To blow up

So I can dumb down
Your intelligence
And smarting up
Your ignorance

If you can’t understand
You’re either too smart
Or too **** ignorant

If you’re offended
Then you’re opinion is unneeded
Because the truth
Will tear your *** to pieces

I met you by the terrace walls when we were young
I was more graceful and prettier, but you were more interesting
And from then, you'd snagged my heart
I found myself entangled in you and we became inseparable—
The tightest pair of friends that wall had ever seen.

From there, I moved on to my father's pergola—a beautiful sight
Surrounded by cousins of daisies and roses with thorns
You didn't feel special when we were not alone
And craned yourself away from me as far as possible to listen
To the wind and our cousins below.

Next you found me stretched against the columns
Of my mother's porch—as if we were playing a magnificent
Game of hide and seek. You climbed up
To meet me more than halfway and promised never to leave
My side again, be it for the wind or my cousins or solitude.

And at the end, I chose to rest on the walls and columns
Of my balcony and you followed me as you said you would.
We had grown so much although you were much bigger
And I could see how much we'd changed. Still, we were
still entangled. We were still the same.

And like vines, we intertwined.
And slowly began to droop with age.

Always will you be there for me, holding my hand
The tightest of sincere embraces until the stars all burst and die
Do you know how our faith circles us like vultures?
Waiting till we’re weak to attack?
I feed off the foolishness of the fate that’s handed to us,
And I walk the other direction.
Not always was faith right, and not about us either.
We didn’t meet to fix each other.
We didn’t meet to make each other happy.
We didn’t meet to teach each other patience,
But we met to live and let go.
That’s always been the easiest part of life.
So you see, you said you’d always be there for me,
But you’re letting the vultures peck your flesh away,
Becoming who you’re supposed to be, I see you giving up.
Well let me share a secret,
I refuse to let you go.
Simply because the moonlight beckons us to fly away
**** the vultures, so we can be forever
Set our own path for the rest of our lives.
I refuse to let this so called ‘faith’ push us far apart.
Can we start a riot?
Can we hear the music louder than ever?
Listen to the silence become the opposite of a night we welcomed,
My fire won’t burn out, because I am who I am
Life’s just a silly game, isn't it?

Waterlogged pages litter the floor,
Her teeth,
Coffee stained.
All from the many jittery and sleepless nights,
Crying onto the ink filled pages,
Trying to write the perfect poem for you.

Her car smells of mind altering substance,
A still burning cigarette in the ash tray,
In hopes that her mind may wander onto something other than you.

She spends hours perfecting her makeup,
Not a single overprocessed hair out of place.
Wearing her tightest and darkest clothes,
She hopes she might get a second glance from you today.

But she won't see you today or tomorrow,
So she'll post a picture and hope you're watching.
Trying so hard to be something that'll catch your eye,
Your dark angel in the night.