I wore the most beautiful dress today.

“Simply stunning” I was told.

Pale pink, knee length, halter. Tight lace bodice, with tiny roseate flowers peering through; snug enough to showcase the shiny hills of my caramel breast. Lace and chiffon ruffles flowed down my thighs with heavy ivory mesh underneath. Simple pink pumps; so not to overshadow the beauty of the dress.

I twirled in delight, in the floor length mirror (before my departure). Left side view (perfect). Right side view (perfect). But, when I turned to view the rear, “hmmm.” not so pleasing. “ My butt looks too big.”.

So, I went to the closet, pulled out the leather hat box. Placed it on the bed, and rummaged for my treasures.
“Got ‘em”.

I swiftly kicked the pumps off, reached my arms around the ruffles to hike the skirt; In went my right foot, now leg, a wist and pull up my thigh… Plop and fall of the dress.. item.

Once Again, I hiked up my skirt and pulled it over my head. I felt along the bed with my left hand, “Got it.” A clack in the air; (just for fun) and around my waist.. I tied. I wrapped, bonded and buckled. ” Whew..a bit constricting… but it’ll work”.

I gathered the final gems, and with a tiny gold safety pin, I flung my left arm around and underneath my armpit, I operated.
“Whew”…inhale, exhale.. “Done”.

Giddy..I returned to the mirror… Left side view (perfect)…..Right side view (perfect)… Rear….(no need) I raised up my skirt to admire my treasures and handy-work …. a lingering “Ni-ce” slithered from my lips.

Kissing my right thigh, compactly kept with black garter; was my Uncle’s army blade.. (a gift from my Twentieth birthday)
Blessing my waist was my favorite black whip; handle tucked deep in my thong.
Pinned in the back of my bodice, just below my right shoulder blade; hidden in china-red satin, was 3 glimmering razor blades.

I twinkled into my shoes, and danced a little jig…. “I dare ANYBODY to say ONE thing about my butt!… I wish a muthafucka…would.” (smile)


I’m a selfish girl I know…

If you can’t hold me right, don’t try to hold me at all.

I don’t need you to love me, cause I wouldn’t know what it was, if you did.

I just need you to pack and unwrap me, every time you see me. Delicately remove my bow, gently loosen the tape, carefully release the wrapping paper, softly lift the lid, tenderly pull back the tissue, and with an “ooh ahh” from you lips; patiently lift me and pull me close. Lovingly hold me close.
Now, quick and swift…precisely put me back….patiently tuck me in the box, tenderly cover me with tissue, softly replace the lid, carefully re-wrap the paper, gently stick the tape, and delicately adorn my bow.

I know that I am fragile, a bit damaged, cunningly beastly…. but you don’t…You can’t see it. You won’t be able to recognize it, even if you did… by chance… have one unspeakable moment to peer into me…It’s too ghastly and lurid for you to comprehend.

You are too perfect, so perfect to ever know evil; even when your holding it in your hands.

So, put me back… in the box….quick.


So, I met this guy in the supermarket who said that, he knew me..

I swore he didn’t. He said, “We shared the same group of friends in college and that we always hung out together.”

I swear we hadn’t. He said, “Baby, I promise I know you, you just don’t remember.”

I said, “Man. I promise YOU don’t know me, and I do remember.”

He grabbed me by my arm, and faced me eye to eye… intensely, he said, “I know you.”..

“Umph.” my tongue glazed my bottom lip…

So….. I took him home…and….devoured him….. No one, has seen him since..


I don’t question why I am this “Way”.. I used too, though.

I would insanely agonize over my so called “sickness” that’s what “he” called it. That’s what “she” hollered in the numerous high-pitched cell phone messages.

“We love you.We just want you to get help.” “Help for what?” I laughed…

“Is it really the end of the world, because I like belts?”

“Okay, I admit it! I am saving myself from damnation and I wanna go to Heaven! I confess my sins to my Lord and Savior”
(With fingerprint spit tears down my cheeks) I plead. “I wanna be saved”…(on my knees crawling at their feet.)
“Please save me.” (internally giggling)

(Here comes the rant)

“I LIKE BELTS! Well, I LOVE BELTS. Mainly, the thick leather ones, brown, black, blue, red; color’s no issue. Just as long as it is more than an inch thick and 4 inches wide. I like those heavy, heavy belts. Heavy like Boa Constrictors. Heavy like Big Ol’ Man belts. The rubbery feel. The click, clang and jingle of the buckle”… (I moan entranced at the thought)

“AND YOU!” (I shout with pointer finger raised high)…”How can YOU criticize ME?!” (I face jaw dropped faces)

“You come to my house, parading around, like it’s a fashion show, when you already know “I LIKE BELTS”…. Wearing them, tightly around your waists. Gripped in each loop, I sometimes can’t even get my fingers through them.. So tight around you. (you should be shamed). Corrupting me; the way you do, then blame me for not being able to fend you off.”

(With wet, burning, beads of sweat rolling down my neck, I continue)…..

“So big and strong, (it is). Engulfing that part of you, tracking that part of you, tattooing that part of you…
You come here..barely breathing.. Your faces all flushed; cause you can’t breathe…” and
as soon as I remove them (the belts) you collapse in my arms..

“You selfish, stupid, hypocrites!”

“WAKE UP”…..

“Shit!” I’m saving you…

Lover’s Embrace

He circled me with rugged arms. His palms pulsating up my spine, then restless at my rump.
My ear he tasted, My neck he sipped. With his teeth he pulled away wisp of hair from blocking my gaze.
The creases of my eye, he licked. My cheek he tugged. The tip of my nose he pecked. Down his tongue withered, aiming for his final destination….”Hey!” I stammered, while turning my head away.. “I told you, I don’t kiss.”

“Awe, sweetheart…I’m not gon’ bite cha” reaching for my bottom lip. “No.” I ordered. “I already told you, I don’t kiss.”

“Why not?” pleading..”We been together for quite some time now, don’t you trust me?”

Tenderly, I placed my hands at his jaw, and locked eyes.. “Yes. babe. I trust you.” I know that you would never do anything to hurt me” …ending with…. “Your the sweetest guy I know”..

“Well, alright then, why won’t you kiss me?” he huffed.

Holding in and holding myself down…. I responded “I do kiss you. YOU just can’t kiss ME; here” (pointing to my lips).. “No big deal..really”..
Trying to make light of the situation, I playfully shove him away…

With his might; he forcefully grabbed me by my wrist. With one arm, he tucked the back of my head into his elbow, and the other; he held my hands… Deeper he pressed, pressing his lips into mine..Firmly clinched, I remained. Hoping and praying that he would give up. He pressed and pressed, mumbling… “Open up, open up” (between teeth and tongue)

Gradually, I rose…I climbed…I ascended…
with a rumble from my abdomen, and pinch from my navel, I spun through my liver, spiraled pass my heart, I fluffed my lungs and up my esophagus, I bustled. Rushing from my throat, I pushed… I pushed.. I stomped the roof of my mouth and punched my teeth…painfully I released. I burst, I poured and exploded from my lips into his. I desecrated his orifice, trampled along his tongue, raced down his throat, cracked his lungs, and obliterated his heart..

With a pinkie finger nudge, he toppled flat on his back…

Shameless I glared down at him. From side to side my head shook; “Tis. Tis.”

I grabbed him with both hands. By his right wrist I yanked him out the door. On every downward step, his body bled. He bled on the sidewalk, the graveled driveway and wet grass.

At the curb, I left him.

I dusted my knees and wrung my hands. A swoosh of mop water hit the pavement, clear drops dangled from the porch. I swept and sprinkled sea-salt that blew in the night-time air.

Inside I retreated, and scented the air with Patchouli perfume.

I plopped on the sofa, reared back, and put my feet up on the table, only to discover the only memory, left behind….

………………a tinged bleach spot on the hardwood floor.

Pretty Red Stockings

“Pretty Red Stockings….Pretty Red Stockings…Pretty Red Stockings..”

I whimsically sing..placing pointed toes, followed by left leg; into the stocking

(Humming)…”hum.hum…hum…hum.hum” settling my right foot into the stocking….

around my heel, up my ankle, past my knee, now, stuck at my thigh…

“Pretty Red Stockings….Pretty Red Stockings…Pretty Red Stockings..” I gleefully, sing.

Spreading my fingers wide apart, while showcasing and idolizing my stockings, I rub out the kinks, and stretch them high.

I leaped onto the kitchen table; with fingers gripping the edge. Childishly kicking my legs, back and forward, forward and back…loving the cold lacquer beneath hips shutter as my red legs dance. Subtle ripples of flesh and muscle jerk with each kick. I watch my thighs glow when they contract; highlighted by my glorious stockings. (I smile)

Feverishly, I kick wildly…back and forth on the table, “swing stockings, swing..” My hips rotating to the melody…The table squeaks and softly bumps the floor…I swing, kick, gyrate, and shake.

Abruptly, he appears…(a minute too soon)…I’m caught in the act..

Forcefully, he tugs and lifts my scarlet legs overhead.

Frantically, I scream as I watch my “Pretty Red Stockings” hit the floor.

The Reason

I used to be afraid to sleep and live alone…..until I…
remembered and rekindled the evil that was once shown to me; so long ago.
Now, I fear no man…
I already bedded the devil…so “they” should fear me.


I keep rubber bands fixed around my wrist…
Most people think it’s to swiftly pull my hair back…
But, mainly it’s because….
I like shooting them at testicles and tits.

Victor Victorious

On the couch, I begin mending a pillows tattered corner; (the puppies defeated foe)

On the couch, he sits jibber jabbering and chitter chattering…

He’s rambling about all of his many escapades; this one and that one..

He’s bustling about all of his conquests. How he beat this one and that one… HIM “The Undefeated Champion”.. The “Victor Victorious”.
Strong and Mighty
Big and Broad

“Umph…umm hmm.” I graciously nod, while threading in and out..

“I had him by his throat… I beat the crap out of that stupid son of a bitch…I kicked him..and slapped the shit out of him…talking to me; like he lost his mutha-fucking mind..”

“Umm hmmm” I moan.

(Desperately seeking more of my attention)

He speaks of his riches and wealth..
He boasts about his “fleet” of cars… His priceless artifacts; all of his expensive gems from this place and that place.

All of his globe trotting journeys; spit from his thick tongue, and how he met this celebrity and that one..

Occasionally, glancing up from the pillow; in and out I weave.

“Such a beautiful, peaceful process” I think. “Ah, sewing”.
The background factory Elephant shit that he keeps producing, I desperately try to tune out..

In and out I sew, the silver shiny needle firm between my fingers.

“I did this… I’m gonna do that.”

“Umm..hmm.” I deeply exhale..

“Almost finished” I think. I plucked the string, fluffed the pillow, and tucked it behind me..

“Umm..hmm.” I say mimicking…while re-threading the needle


In one GIANT LEAP; like Superman.. I flew into the air and did a half-second turn… and… like Michael Jordan, I dunked that needle in the center of his top lip straight down to the bottom.

I moon-walked with the needle like Michael Jackson…I sang with it like Billy Holiday…

“I float like a butterfly and sting like a bee” I shouted… I AM Muhammed Ali!

I sutured in and out….fast like like a cheetah

…at the final thread I snipped, like the worlds greatest surgeon….and…

Like Jesse James, I swung my scissors around my pointer..blew of the steam, and shoved them into my back pocket..

Like Nadia Comaneci, I flipped backwards (missing the coffee table) and spun into the air with shiny weapon held high…like the boy Arthur in “The Sword in the Stone”…

Then I slammed my faithful weapon on the floor and shouted “Touch Down!” and did my twinkle-toes football dance..

……He didn’t know what hit him.

Just One Of The Girls

I love how I can throw on a pair of jogging pants, and a tank top…

How I can pull my hair in a ponytail, with any colored band.. Top it off with a loose open sweat shirt and fuzzy socks..

How I can strut around the house with clear face, and not a hint of hue on my lips. No jewelry or polish. No glitter or bronzer.

Unforced freedom..

I really like, how I can plop on the couch in my nerdiest glasses and a book; chips and tea, not far from reach. Kick back in the laziest of slouches; as if I haven’t a care in the world..

It’s quite rewarding… (really)….

Especially, when I know that there’s a sweet secret, underneath…

…a leather thong with polka dot bow in back..and matching leather pasties that dangle silver tassels. A diamond belly chain and leather cuffs on each ankle. A henna tattoo of a serpent lines my back..

Ahh. so comforting, to be just like all the other girls..

Combat Boots

In and out my life you stomp…
in combat boots

On the bed I lay…On the bed I stayed. I don’t think I have ever been in that room and not been on the bed.

You danced on my dreams and goals… in combat boots.

I guess it would’ve have been an even fight if I had a machete and arsenal of ammunition. But, I wore pastel tutu-skirts and converse chucks. I liked glitter and sugar dust, feathered on every part of me.

My favorite color was pink and candy scents clouded my space. Young and sweet; with curly, light colored hair. A flowering fairy and free-giving, wild-child.

For nights and days, you took what you never owned..Innocence, Naivety, Joy, Peace, Beauty, Light, and Love. You ripped them from me, and tucked them in your boots. Attracted to my glow but not able to comprehend it’s nature. You dissected it..dismantled it, and now it jingles like keys in your pockets.

The curiosity in me, allows you to stay. In and out my life, you march in combat boots. You stomp away and kick down doors to come back in.

Even when you are gone.. (I guess rummaging and pillaging some other poor soul)…You’ve tattooed yourself on my every existence; all I do is think of you.. even when love fights so hard to kill you.. You always manage to slay it.

My lover dead at my feet, and face covered in your spit… You laugh and jump on his back.

Bent over and up against the wall… (once again). Tears and glee blush my cheeks. A sinful sick soul, I am too. Nauseous of a true lovers touch. Only longing for your gleaming sword. A wicked bastard-for true. But, damn..I must be pretty wicked too, to allow you to do the deeds you do.

In and out of my life in combat boots… You’ve showed me so much evil. Your pain is now my pleasure. The innocence I crave.. The love I devour then throw up, because it’s taste sickens me. The sweetness, only masks my face until my goal is achieved.

Now.. my pretty pink tutu’s are black.. poisoned dust laces my skin. I stash blades in my panties and a contagious disease flows from my kiss. Midnight hair and blood tinted lips…dark eyed with heartless glare..

Hate hides in my gloved hand, and I dare a soul to survive in my bed.

Apology Flowers

6 a.m.

I let the dog out, only to discover the apology flowers left on the front porch… Hmm…Do I leave them? Do I pluck every petal and feed them to the grass; while sending the message to him that I don’t accept his Fucked up apology…What he did was unforgivable.. or maybe I just don’t give a crap and am still pissed off that the flowers don’t mean shit.


does the earth lover in me; retreat into the house with flowers in hand. Carefully unwrap them and place them in water to preserve their beauty…for it wasn’t the flowers fault that he was such a dick.. so to harm them would be pointless. Plus, they already had the dreadful ride with him in the car..

I quickly take them into the house, clip them, and place them in beautiful vase…

“Oh, you poor babies…having to be in the presence of that mean ol’ man.. your saved now”..



“I’m on my way”.. he urgently replied.

He made a made a mad dash down the side walk in white crew socks, blue boxers and red cape.. Across 4th street, past the flower shop, the magazine stand, the liqueur store, and the grocery…

Speaking in his wrist phone “I’m almost there.. I’m at 7th street..”

“You better hurry!” the caller pleads.

Fast he sprints. Around light post, hurdling over parked cars, and slashing his feet with broken glass, on the pissed covered concrete.

“I’m here”..he pants.. into his wrist phone….

“She’s on the roof.” the caller announces.

He steps back, his cape blowing behind him…Up he the 16th story building.. “I see her” he puffs.

Breaking the glass of the apartment door, he bursts through the unlocked door…Through the lobby he flies, eying the elevator, but decides to take the stairs… “The elevator..may be broken” he thinks.

Up the stairs he climbs.. His knees crack..and ankles buckle from the countless over the banister jumps.

“I’m at the 15th flight”..he huffs..

“I’m coming.. I’m coming.. I’m coming” he screams… “Please.. wait…I’m coming..”

He bustles onto the rooftop… breathing heavily…Surveying the scene.. There she is!..

….Her white coat blows in the breeze..lifting and displaying her bright-red panties. Her pale feet, uneasy on the ledge…Auburn, ringlet hair covers her face..
Admiring the placement of her feet, she gazes at her shiny polished toes. Her huge-eyes peer through her hair as the metal door clangs behind him.

“Hmm”..she smirks.. He’s come to save me.

“I’ve come to save you!..” in his stern, lingering Superman Voice.

The corner of the left side of her mouth, rises.. sweetly she replies “Who said I needed saving?” Still viewing him between her hair..

“I’ve come to save you”, he echos….

“Okay..” she giggles.. She carefully unfastens her coat, her fingers tremble with each unloosed button.

“What will you save?” she asks. As she stands; displaying her bare breast shown through her open coat..

She cups both breast in her hands.. “Will you save these?” she snickers..

“I’m just here to help, Miss. I’ll do whatever I need to do.” Inching closer to her.

“What’s the matter? How can I help? Is that it? Are you unhappy about your body?”

She laughs and bends to dangle her tits… he immediately draws nearer..

“Oh, these ol’ things, I don’t give a damn about these.” she smiles

“Miss! Please! Be careful.. Why don’t you just get down from there, and we can discuss it safely on the ground, please… I’m just here to help.” He carefully walks to her, reaching his hand out for her..

Mockingly she responded.. “Thank you kindly, sir. But, like I said. I don’t need saving. I don’t need your help.”

“You must.” he stampers… Your standing half naked on a ledge..aren’t you trying to lose your life?”

She yells… “Who the hell said that I was living, anyway.. You stupid, ignorant fuck..I’ve been dead for a while now.. me jumping off this ledge will be my best chance at ever living again..”

“Okay Okay.. calm down.. calm down”..He soothes… I just want to know you could do this another day.. Why don’t we go out for tea, or coffee..a bite to eat, maybe? Just spend a little time with me.. We can talk about whatever you like..I just want to help.”

She smiles, and blows the bangs from her eyes, “Okay” (whispering). She held her hand out to him, which he reached to take… she laughed and snatched back..

He immediately lunges for her, (her red heels brush the edge) and back she falls… Only her white coat left hanging in his hands.

He lowers his head, presses the button on his wrist phone… (solemnly) “I lost another one, Joe… I lost another one.” …

He removes his treasured cape and shamefully shuffles in his underwear and bloody socks… in the elevator, through the crowds of people, on the dirty streets, back to his box…on 3rd street.


Across my side it stretched. Down to my hip. The bandage wasn’t large enough.. So, I covered it with paper towels and tape..

Pink oozed from the sides. No time to worry.. I threw on my tank top, and black sweat shirt. Zipped and pulled the hood to cover my hair..
flung open the bathroom door.. and on the sofa I returned.

“I wanted to tell you.. but I didn’t know how..” I know your angry and should be, I promise it won’t happen again..”

I listened too intently and my side ached intensively.. My hard lips burned. My elbows itched. My pants hurt between my legs.

“I’m sorry.. It just happened. You know I love you.. I guess I drank too much. I just got carried away.” He said.

“Umph” While biting my lower lip. Uneasy and anxious, I rocked, holding my side. It ached so bad.. I could feel the dampness enter my sweatshirt.

The pain began to grow unbearable. I clutched my wound to hold it together..and to not allow him to notice.

He stuttered, mumbled, and fumbled over what sounded liked gibberish.

Feeling my drift.. I leaned further back onto the couch…

My head ached and I felt nauseous. I licked my lips and quietly asked “So, your telling me.. that you slept with her? Right?”

He looked confused and dazed. “Umm. Yeah. Babe, that’s what we’ve been talking about for over an hour.”

He reached for me..and solemnly asked “Are you okay?”

Shaken.. I dodged his gesture.. My skin grew hot.. and my blood cold.

With rocky fingers I unzipped my hoodie and revealed my leaky top. The soiled bandages dropped to the floor..

Gently over my head, I pulled the bloody shirt.. revealing a silver curve that rose from my chest.

I reached my arm around my shoulder and neck, grabbed the handle, and snugly pulled. With one swift flip, the blade boomeranged from my back and straight into his Mother-fucking forehead..

In front of me, on the coffee table, he sat..still wide legged and doe eyed with a meat cutter sticking out of his head.

Instantly.. I was healed. I leaped from the sofa and peered on him.. In my pretty, pink, Converse Chuck’s, I kicked him in his chest and watched him topple to the floor. my “gibberish”.. and tugging him along.. “Now.. NOW.. you get carried away.” I got your carried away.. Carried away so you fuck her? No sir.. NOW, you get carried away.. You idiot.

Where Did My Baby Go?

From the tip of his penis, to the tall gray strand that coils in the top of his head…he’s changed

Dark curls play merry-go-round at his lower back

Bushy eyebrows

Big, thick, hands. Veins plump along.

Curved small belly, sits where strong abs once where.. a baby no more.

No mother’s milk smell, in the corners of his mouth

A full grown MAN.

A Man with responsibilities and complications

A Man with swagger and sex appeal
A Man with a smile that makes everything sunny (in my world)
A Man that works hard to satisfy not just please

A grown Man with grown Man things..

Even though we were both so young when we met, I wouldn’t change the Man that you have become.

Though at times, I lust for the tenderness and naivety that you once possessed, the necessary roughness clothes me just fine.

Polka-dot Pillow

Bliss tickles my red polish toe

The night before ensues on my fingertip; to my lips I delightfully place.

Hmm.. the subtle taste of deceit and defeat holds my tongue.

No matter, pleasure is all mine, this morning.

Entranced with lids closed, my eyes mimic the scene…

Moisture thickens, and my bare thighs chill

My back stiffens to reveal the burgundy scratches that mark my shoulder blades

A cold yellow towel, I wipe down my face.

Black mascara blotched spots and violet eyeshadow, paint

I rinse and wring.. behind my neck I glare whistles from the mirror

A tender, raised smile shines back

Erect and high… I return to the lipsticked-stained, pink, polka-dot pillow, that eagerly awaits my muffled high-pitched shrieks.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s