I Can Grow People.

Just saying.

Tied by tungsten but bound by blood and there is a magnet in his hand; that pulls me upwards, to beyond. Everything he censors are the feelings that are real: lay down your arms, Sir, and now act upon innocence and push me towards smiles worth remembering because I never staged a bitterness quite like that and I'm embarrassed that you see through me and that my dreams confess: nuance, maneuvers, capital failures and lesser disputes. Still, no apologies are pending.

I love you.

Fault Of The Market: Bad Boys and Good Girls

I want to be the girl with the most cake so dispense of the lies and rationalizations: ultimately, sexuality is a private enterprise and you do not want me to be privy to yours. Hey, girls: if you are having difficulty getting your man to read, initiate a discussion about the demise of intimacy. 'At ought to do it. But don't you see, boy? Your gifts are like pearls and your faults are like mosquito bites. Everyone has a guilty pleasure but I am a hedonist and none of my pleasures are guilty.

Insults To Last A Lifetime

Its hard to be a badass when your maternal instinct brings the bile to your throat and blocks the words that were so true in your head but came out sounding like a cross between a gurgle and a sputter. And then he mocks. Shouldn't ever have to be this hard but, like the man said, life is disappointment; and anyone who tries to tell you differently is selling something. In the end I think you're going to want the sunshine, the milk and honey, the land, the matching names, the children, the help fighting the scary days: a person to take care of your feet when you are old. And I would take a hit for you and be very brave for you but you don't give a shit (your words) and I am too neurotic (mine.) Thirty days would positively loom over your day-dreaming head! Do you know how many hours are in thirty days? That's a lot of time to sleep away. How nice it was not to have to hear about it? Nicer still is not having to hope for it. I can make peace with just about anything. I am good at facing facts. I serve a purpose and I cannot complain. I mean, I should not complain. But it is hard when both people believe that they are suffering the most. And, sadly, neither crying nor yelling are empirical. Nor compelling.

So Little Red Riding Hood said to The Wolf, "My, what sharp teeth you have!"

And the wolf answered, "The better to cut my losses with, my dear."


And to think, this is revised. The mind boggles. But this is the last you'll hear from me on the matter. Sure, I will always wonder why I am so uninspiring but I can choke it back. And I enjoy being his baby momma. I really do.