Making my own path is necessary because there’s no path for the freedom I need. I find myself in many situations there’s no Hallmark card for. The other day my good friend asked me, “What do you say to a friend, when her rapist dies?” There is no greeting card for that one. But many
I heard a dirty limerick on a Parliament-Funkadelic recording. Can I tell it to you? There once was a man in Peru who was dozing in his canoe. He started thinking of Venus and pulled out his penis: woke up with a hand full of goo. I’m not sure I have that quite right, but
“You fucked me so good last night,” I told my spouse. “Is it ok if I look at your chonies and think about your dick? Because that’s what I’m doing.” “Yeah,” he said. He was standing in the kitchen, wearing no pants, still waking up. “I want more of that,” I said. He came to
I can only be close to people who like to communicate. I can’t afford to be abused. I’m crazy disabled and need my resources for myself. my mom didn’t form my body in her body to be harmed. my mom told me to get the fuck away from him. my body isn’t his to use.
I had not been around Mexican guys drinking beer in a long time. That’s my family, the family I don’t see anymore, since my mom died. The Mexican guys drinking beer got my feelings swirled around. My instinct was to stay as close to my spouse as possible and pretend I didn’t understand what they
What’s real is so different from what can get me off. Sometimes what can get me off the best is Wrong. Sometimes I want to masturbate imagining being fucked by someone inappropriate, like someone who was hurtful to me. It’s a no judgment zone–what can get me off is ok, whatever ideas I need. It’s
“Thank you for getting me off, earlier,” I told my spouse, as he came to bed. “Sure, no problem!” he said, smiling. “I really needed that,” I said, hugging him and kissing him. He accepts all my love. I heard you’re not supposed to thank people for sex, but what if I’m super-grateful? That’s a
“I never loved someone like that. I never loved the joker.” My spouse and I were lying in bed, and I was talking about the man I loved who came and went, the painful house guest. Thinking of that small sound he made, the “uh, uh” in a rap song. I was crying about what
“Is eel a fish?” I asked my spouse. “Yes,” he said. “Oh, are you sure?” I asked. “Seems different.” “Maybe you’re thinking of lampreys,” he said. I was thinking of nasty tube animals with toothy mouths. Animals to dodge, for sure. “I could try one,” I said. We were at all you can eat sushi,
Inviting vampires into the house is a bad idea, but they’re so damn charming, right? And you didn’t know when you invited them in, of course. The charming facilitates the harming. We should do a fang-check at the door. This is hopefully the last unsent letter to someone charming. image credit: Jack of hearts, unchanged,