Spider

under a summermoon/ they meet/ toe to toe/ cheek to cheek/ banana spiders are yellow/ it’s true/ but burning love is the color for two/ and his is the hair of a summer breeze/ and hers are the eyes longing to be free/ the carcasses lay all around/ but into her his love he pounds/ physical restraints are useless/ when his is the soul she runs to/ she misses/ small is the time and space before/ together eternal forevermore/ enough is the feeling she holds when held/ wild satisfaction she gives him fulfilled/ together at their base the world stretches/ time disappears when they’re intermeshing/ his are the eyes of the purest blue/ when she fell into them he smiled/ he knew

~Pour Mon Amour

thanks and credit to those who came before… Shakespeare, Poe, and Debbie; naturally.
As always, special thanks to my true love and ever faithful; SummerMoon.

 

It’s just Pizza.

it’s a dangerous game of slide and catch
when you’re taking the turns
and you’re bodies not there yet
when the gas pedal elicits no response
that’s when you turn your gps off
somewhere on the way
flew off the tracks
back and down
crash crash
c
r
a-z
ssssss
hhhhh-it

suckadick122817

It’s just Pizza.

Piggi Piggi

somewhere in the middle
I’m disappearing
between Vega and Vaca I lost my way
The Doors I reached for never came
The girl left me waiting for knot
the man I once loved went bye
on a time when things made cents
and change I carried
in a little bank in my room
piggi piggi
squeaky chair

 

Thanks and credit
ig: mbrown6733
fb: Anissa

Question, Man

I glance back at the sound of footsteps. There’s a man approaching rapidly from behind me. I just got off the bus, and I’m assuming he did too.
“Hey where’s your accent from.” Dear Lord he’s daned to talk to me. As they say in the office – he’s being straightforward to – but his dick is definitely sideways in his pants because … well room… and “Texas” “Oh man. Are you going home to your boyfriend?” “Yes.” “A, that makes sense I bet you’ve got two boyfriends.” “nope.” “Do you drink?” “I’m more of a smoker.” “Oh that’s nice. Have you got weed on you now?” narrows eyes 7/11 approaching up ahead… he turns off. “Well if your boyfriend every messes up I’ve got a name and a number.” i’m sure you do “I’ve never done a texas girl before” #goals.

“You know what makes it so hard? That you’re so pretty Monkey. If you weren’t so pretty this would be a lot easier.”
After every what is supposed to be a one night stand then a leave me alone… this is why sex isn’t worth it… they always want more… always want to commit. like fuck off buddy.
“Okay, what I’m hearing is that you just were horny and that’s why you had sex with me. Is that right?” “Yep.” “So you’re a lier. Everything you said about how you like being with me and want to be with me forever when we were wasted and fucking on the couch is a lie?”
am I the only one who sees the gap in the logic here?

I’m ‘reading’ I am Legend right now… or I’m carrying it around with me and trying to be motivated to read it… but it really annoys me that there are literally no female characters except for the female vampires that he completely sexualizes and experiments on. like fuck this man.

Helaughsatmywar

I am at war. A greater war then the one within myself wages all around me. I go into the kitchen, I walk to the sink, I turn on the sink, and the war rages around me. The struggle of keeping food down when flies are swarming around the room at a dizzying rate – I watch two of them fucking on the fruit fly trap – ON not IN – just casually fucking on top of it – a literal ‘fuck you’ from the fruit flies – and that’s why I know this is war.
>they’re breeding but I am one – a one-woman insane hand clapper against the mob – I jump around clapping my hands at them desperate to catch them in between – nothing but complete annihilation will satisfy me.
>He’s laughing at me again. I know he is. “Is this what it means to support yourself as a woman?” Saying goodbye to him was the best decision I made – best choice I made last year… now if only to get rid of the flies… the mold will have to wait.

really though… what am I going to do with the above quote? Nothing… just take up space… basically life right there… nothing… just take up space. I take up space, therefore I am. trying to take up less and less…

 

 

forwalkingaway

Bootsweremadeforwalkinganywayyouseeandoneofthesedaysnotgoingtoletyourbootswalkalloverme

/* I got up and left. I quit. Sent him my polite little resignation and excused myself. Thanked him for the opportunity and as I walked out; flames. */

She was wearing a white dress. Behind her they stare watching, or at least she pretends they do, she’s not turning back to check, not turning back at all. She throws the forms in the recycling ben, won’t be needing those anymore, won’t be getting no special health plan, how much health coverage covers standing up for yourself? Not much. Suck a dick dipshits. That’s what they said but in the singular and not with such ‘vulgar’ language. You see now I’m just going to buy you somethings and touch you in ways that make you feel uncomfortable. But just suck it down and put up with a brave smile – we’re paying you to smile after all
WELL NOT ENOUGH SHIT HEADS! EAT IT!
So with fingers blazing like the now iconic pocket cat, she storms on a silent wave across the wires severs connecting messages sending.
Won’t be seeing her around no more.

Cuz boots were made.

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Hot-Blooded Portlandia

There’s something wrong with my blood.

“It’s women. They don’t have good circulation. At least all the ones I’ve been with don’t. Their extremities are always cold.”

that’s why we have you, buddy. If women had good circulation we would never go to bed with men. This is why my grandmother swears by heated blankets; thank god she didn’t always have one or I wouldn’t be around.

People leave doors open here and think nothing of it. Noone does this in Texas; there’s always bugs and hot air to make it impractical. But here, despite the bone-chilling wet cold, people just leave them open.

Maybe they’re all wearing something else beneath their clothing. Tights, wool socks, and sweats aren’t enough for me. Maybe they’ve got wool hose under those jeans, but it’s beyond me how the one girl over there is just sitting around with a tee shirt on and no coat. That’s what creates this belief that there must be something wrong with me. I mean just wrong with my blood because obviously, I’m cool. 😬

The real concern is it’s the start of November. There isn’t even snow yet. Maybe this is these people’s Fall. If that’s the case, it’s going to be a long cold December – And no Taylor, I won’t be going back all the time.

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Imposter of the Night

I arrived in Portland last night. It wasn’t really night though; it only looked like it and felt like it. I showed up in shorts because the one pair of sweatpants I own officially smell like a road trip. Trust me. I know. I’m wearing them again now because it’s freaking freezing here.

The guy, Allan, who opened the door, after I wandered the street a total loner looking for the Airbnb, and finally decided to try the one that I thought looked like the picture the most, in the dark of the night people will find her, a super tall dude opened the door a crack and glared down at me.

Thank you Portland for weed and making people paranoid of a small little woman like me.

He was determined that I might not be the new guest. “Show me the information of communicating with the host.” I pulled out my phone, shivering mind you because I’m in fucking shorts and just want to curl up and hide, “Here, here” I pulled up the Airbnb application and showed him the messaging with the host.

“Okay. Cool.” He finally let me in. Then just like that, it was cool. He completely ceased to think of me as some kind of imposter of the night. Woo life.