How is it that you want to live your life?

The joyous cheers all around me make me feel less than what is, but in reality is not, just temporary reliefs of reality through small, or even big amounts of flights away from their unique home called their souls. I beg myself away from it all with pain in my heart and distress on my mind. Sometimes it last enough till old age where your organs no longer function as they once did when you were but a child running through yards, blowing bubbles, with nothing but smiles and squinted eyes on your face. Twenty five years later, here I am. Holding my head high enough for onlookers to see and make their own assumptions of my whole being. It’s never wise to judge a book by its cover, but today in time, we look from vain eyes foreseeing nothing more than the painted picture of beauty, when the insides are corroded by adjusted time in the world of misery. We can never do that, but we are all sinners ad do what we want, forgetting the higher power in all of us that screams and pulls away towards the lighter side of the broken neighborhood we all dwell in. We’re all alone in our own egg shell. We hatch not knowing anything of our surroundings but what we are told. Where is the real truth? It’s far gone.. Gone away in a place where few find and the rest of us just act like the zombies, roaming around, purposeless. Only food and pleasure involved in our undeveloped lives. IN a spot where we just be, not thinking of anything else, no ambition, other wise knowledge beyond our perfect highs and lows. An extra shot? Pass the cigarette. My mind numbs itself as the Bacardi takes effect and I hold on tight to the burning world. I see my angel. I look down at myself and flick away the butt that always comes to an end.

Inspiring Writer

Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Inspiring Writer?



After eight months lived out in the jungle surrounded by the same bleeding disgraced women, all us addicts of sinful, immoral, acts to ourselves and others. I believe I’ve done my time. My 9-5 hours were over and I came home.
“Welcome to Miami”
“It’s nice here, doesn’t feel I’ve been gone so long”, say in the car watching the day begin all over the cities see from all the highways.

So far, so good. Can it get better? Of course it can. But can it get way worse than before? –silence.
Eagerly I thought about who would be the first one to accomplish a sort of ritual after such long torment of absences during slowly passing time.
Enough

I absolutely have to write about him…
She Australian looking, dirty blondish hair thrown around me the surf,tight in weight, thin but thick enough to handle his board to perfection. “Hello, nice to meet you,” he says. I smile back checking him out with long batting lashes, deep sparkle in my eyes. “Where are you from? I ask directly. Smiling back he says in the sexiest accents I’ve heard in, let’s say enough for me to rub my nipples right now with my eyes closed saying, ahhh”. Let’s just continue on from one important factor to another. “Israel and Argentina”. My panties cream. I guess you just know, you know, when a chick digs you, and wants that there. Was it the extra kiss I gave him good bye? Or the walking me deep into his upstairs bedroom to use le toilet? The reason for that gently whisper as my friend hurried to the car as I lingered out of his pad. “Excuse me?” I said blushing with a kinky smile on my face. Throwing my hair to one said asking to speak up with his sexy naughty words. “You should get my number from Susi” with a rather some conniving smirk on his sexy face that I’d rub my pussy all over. Ughh, walking away was the hardest but as a new, dignified woman, “If he wants it enough, he will find me”.
Point is that there is constantly better out there. Some days you feel like a nut, sometimes you don’t. The change in the soul mating of my days, change within minutes, breezes of air, weather, and opportunity. I have been celibate for 8 whole months. I feel the hounds smell it. Problem is, I want to play back and that would mean, I’m no better than I was 8 whole months ago.
Dismay. Why the fuck does my life always end in dismay? Fuck it, I want to live for myself.
I think I’ll go get a tattoo today. 

Monday, May 02, 2011
Wow, so I’m finally going home.


I think back at all the fucks I’ve had. All the lays I’ve laid down and gotten laid on. I listen to “Re-Arranged” by Limp Bizkit. I have no true, real, healthy relationship to think back on. It’s all good. All I can think of is some good ‘ol sex right now, but I know better than to go solemnly for the pleasure of a 45 minute ride, if I’m even lucky Mr. Homeboy can keep along with me. I look at all the smilling, passing faces that I’d like to share saliva and interesting moans with, but my life has changed now. Although my sexual drive hasn’t, I know that I must conserve myself and allow my personality to shine and not just my vagina. Haha

Thank God it’s over.

“Convenience is for those who are worthy” –nat 5-12-2011


Today is Friday, May 13, 2011 and I feel like writing. So brand new with so many different people around, I don’t know which to choose from to chill, smoke, eat, party with, even fuck. The opportunity has come time after time during the not even two week presence of me in my hometown. So many occasions wanting to rip clothing off and just stick thick hard cock into my over a year, untouched pussy.

But damn. I’ve decided to be who I am, who I’ve always been deep within and never noticed before until total isolation of all I’ve ever known washed over me as a dry cleaner repairs broken stains in you luxurious masked outfit. But all that was and now I am, am here in my room after being the real woman that I’ve never known, nor believed in, here in my bed, with my pussy still between my crossed legs writing down my thoughts as to what would have been had I just forgot all morals and overlooked what strongly sticks out of my chest.

Suffering Solitude

Suffering solitude
Alone with my thoughts
Blank face in the mirror
Puzzled on how I'm alone, listening
to the rain
Not happy with my hair
Wanting to cry
No tears to shed
Pierce another lobe
My face is oily
My feet, cold.
Listen to the rain
Wake up alone
My finances are low
I can't even buy "paint"
If I had
I would blow, from
my mouth, into
my nose
Just as in the picture
So long, long ago
All I have now is passion fruit
The drink, that is
All the passion has dried out
As the blood has from my flesh
I'm restricted and I've submitted
to this place,
my residence,
for the next six months
I'll have to call it my nest.

Lovey Dovey Ishh

Aggression. Progression. Just one. First not last, my mind is so incapable of forgetting the past. The times we were so… Into one another. The time you cheated, the times I have.. Gone and past, where are you?! I beg for an answer. Gone from my reach, you preach of self sufficiency and I beg to differ. I want to lean, where is my other? Love you so much, I want to be your all. Love, friend, mother. Haiuku’s all around, painted pictures from the ground going up , up, and away into the sky where we hold a place, in each others arms. I hand out my palm, spit in it and tell me my future. The plans we’ve made under the tree in that special place. The house on the hill, bordering the lake. Reading to our kids, rocking. You look at me from afar to exhale at how much I love who you are. Smiling, feelings sent to me as my eyes look squinting at yours. Lips still flowing, our baby boy, not knowing my inside, hot staring into the bluest skies I’ve seen only found in your eyes. Two way highway, love both ways, flowing. Smiles. I love you. Chugging my beer at all these thoughts only near, to my heart and mind where it’s all painted. My eyes see not. Fingers placed on my lips pretending to be your soft kiss… How your hands met my face, covering half my head. I pressed myself closer to you breathing in your aroma. None other. No, none other. Ever. Where is that perfume? Where is the cologne? No, never a clone, to the sweet breath of you. None could bottle it. It’s fresh from the flowers, man cannot regenerate. Dead flowers shower my heart and pain me within… Come out, come out, where ever you are, you should be here with me.

In my head

Familiar blank white pages of a progress in my life chosen to not be told. Sitting here in the bedroom where I woke, I look around not taking anything, anymore, as a simple joke. Choke, no I don’t anymore instead I bite my tongue and press my lips against until none are thought of but only reminded of the meaning of Respect. Strings play my hands sway, sway, sway away, glide across the keyboard as I smile. It’s like a game. My fingers always win. Beer in hand thinking of thoughts to think of then write about, my fingers so quick, where’s my mind at? I haven’t the slightest… Just a lot of Led playing making me happy. Not the cold beer pressed against my crotch, “it’s the way I’m sitting, silly” I respond to sinful thoughts. Toothpaste on my finger, spreading across, the mind with a land of a plan and legend to be sought out for.

Christian Optimism

So today was yet another great day filled with many of God's wondrously never ending blessings. After completing all errands and my car half completed, I drove home to where I can reflect on my achievements from today and smile with relaxation. The car broke down and my day came to a hault. I did not fear, worry, or get upset. I know that the Lord is in control and has placed all occurrences in His perfect divine order. About 10 minutes later, AAA pulled up behind me. My insurance wouldn't cover the tow back to the mechanic shop and I didn't have any extra money to spend on fees for the service. God sends us Angels in our time of need. As my favorite verse says, 'be strong and courageous, do not fear for I am your God; I will never leave you, nor forsake you". God's sent Angel was named Thurman. Thurman was a sweet, gentle man who worried for my well being without knowing me and asking nothing in return. My car was towed back to the mechanic shop and I was safe with my father awaiting to pick me up.
There are no coincidences. Our lives have been placed here on Earth to live the life that's already been written. We are all truly blessed. Sometimes its best to take a look at a situation, good or bad, and dissect the good that comes from it as blessings from God.
Selah.

Daddy Dearest

3/3/10
Clear my mind with fog from a bag
Day was fine, went fine, came fine
Home again to disturbing news
Another in my family,
So close to lose
My heart not knowing how to react-
Never had an emotional moment with him
And now, after having made my emotions stuck in stone
I want to reach the unreachable
Attempts not successful and down I fall\my mood goes to anew
No longer happy, but confused
What, how am I to do
What he has never taught me, what I have never been raised to be
Tear roll down my face- it hurts so.
I try but memories are scattered in my brain
Here and there, I cannot grasp one entirely
The reality blocks with brick walls of each of time..
You hurt me.
Oh how it all hurts
The feelings I have
The feelings I don’t
Choked, my throat would like to be at ease
Smoke away the feelings, set my mind free
Knowing it will all be there when I return, all of it
Even the cancer.
Choke.


Finding out my dad has prostate cancer is another tragedy to add to the list. Not knowing how to talk to him about his health, not knowing there was a problem before he was diagnosed with diabetes was one thing. Trying to help out with diets and supplies, trying to do things to make him happy, that was all one thing. One step. One way to show him I care more than he knows. But now this, what the fuck. Now what? I know not how to show my feelings and am working on it. And this happens where mind and heart become in sync with anxiety and gloom. Anger and age, why?! Why this? Isn’t he sick enough? Back at one. Back where I started, a bag filled with rollercoaster tickets to emotional rides up and down, all around. Sick, my throat, it won’t release. My head pounds and my heart- feels empty. Getting closer, getting closer to getting back, or to a place where I’ve never been- a place close to his heart. Getting close, and now so far, he in his and I in mine-crying. The tears don’t stop and I don’t know what to say. It is cold. Everywhere, all around me. Choke. Why won’t it stop? I can’t breathe. My heart hurts. It hurts. Stop. My mind feels it will explode. Raccoon eyes, bloodshot eyes, red nose, wet face. My eyes burn. Release-where? I don’t know how to effectively communicate. Maybe that’s why I’m in my third communications course. Would that help with this scenario? Could it? I shiver, it is so cold. My eyes, so warm, burning hurt in their sockets.
What now?

Nikos

Once again, my mind wanders to you…. My heart becomes hardened, I repress the kiss that tries to retract the emotional turmoil death has shed upon me. Upon me? So selfish, aren’t I? I miss knowing you are alive.
La-da-dah……. I try to make comfort in the southern in my cup, but things are never as they were and will never be the same without you. The asshole stare behind the Guicci glasses talking smack back and forth with me… The laughs, the frowns, the tears that always remained near, now have been shed over your death. Are you still there? Are you there swarmed around the grounds you lay? Are you all around me? All around us? Your friends who weep for your death? Do you remember us where you are? Do you remember her? I wonder and wonder and ponder and ponder…. What is it, where are you? What is to be felt and what we should let go of feeling… It’s all a collage, pictures of you and I, and them. Him and her, she and them, you… you alone, you alone in your room....
Boom- you’re gone.