Monthly Archives: April 2013

Your Facebook Pictures Annoy The Hell Out Of Me

Narcissism-normal

I’m fully aware that I have narcissistic tendencies and I enjoy walking past mirrors more than I should but I’ve tried to humble myself over the years for a serious fear of being punished for vanity. Thats a personal issue – check. Umm, what i am trying to say is, some of you should try wearing confidence a little bit better. Here’s why – A smart man will see you in your one millionth Facebook post of yourself, by yourself, and know that you lack confidence in every sense of word. He will be your friend, but he’s not stupid enough to date you. A smarter man will see you and immediately know that he can take advantage of your weakness of uncertainty. A foolish man will attempt to get between you (and yourself) only to find out that your need for self exalting and self preservation are far greater in importance to you than his needs. Not only does a woman lacking confidence smell worse than a bag of week old fish heads, your overcompensation makes you undesirable, even to yourself. Do yourself a favor, when you look “good” take the same picture that you would take to see how many likes you can get and save it to your phone instead. Start an album entitled “me”. Every time you are with friends or family be sure to show them your new “photo album”. Pay close attention to their reaction and take a mental note of what you feel while you are doing it. Eventually, your solicitation of affection and adoration is not cute anymore. Know that a woman worth her diamonds does not live by the validation of others. She lives by her ability to love, her innate intelligence and humility. She walks with her head held high, never concerned with who is looking or who will appreciate the fact that she took 2 hours to get ready to run errands. Because she appreciates it. She noticed her today. She is now confident, and rightfully so, she is a woman.

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Prey

Image

A simple brush of the hand,

instantly bound,

an application of blush responds to an invite.

Bright light, dim eyes,

move slow – don’t disturb.

Come in, forever.

Desperation fills the air, dusk falls.

Inhale the weakness, sweeter than perfume.

The room spins, the floor quakes,

in a gaze, locked, no future no past.

Surely a mistake, but a sweet one no less.

Regret, merely a picture show – no sound no impact.

Seal the sentence with a kiss, forever marked.

Stripped bare, never to lock eyes again, damaged.

Never to be altered – it is fate and it is done.

The Sound Of Heartbreak

 

They met on a Van Gogh night.

shift – bang – crash, a distant universe collapses

The stars aligned for fate to move in. It swept across the city and faded into the eyes of the pair as their bodies wrestled lust back and forth.

boom – click, close the motel room door

They shared dreams and goals, family stories and what would come of the two of them. He would visit every weekend. Every weekend they would love and plan.

sniff – sniff, for a recreational daze

sip – sip, into inebriation

He would stare into her eyes as he drove. Something they had seen on a movie.

click – click – vroom, he shifted

He wouldn’t take his eyes off of her. He asked, “Are you scared?”. She would always reply, “Never.” – she put one hand on the wheel and one in his lap, then kissed him gently.

ring – ring, “Hey baby…”

They would talk for hours. Revealing secrets, making promises, begging for affection. I love you, I love you more, I love you most, I love you mostest – they would go back and forth to prolong the conversation that no longer had meaning, just for the comfort of the other’s voice.

ring – ring, no answer

beep – beep, it’s busy

ring – ring,  “Hello?”

“Is he there?”

“No”

ring – ring, “Hello?”

“Is he back yet?”

“No”

ring – ring, no answer

Something was different. Something had changed.

smash – she broke the bank

She used all of her money to buy a bus ticket, one way. The bus smelled like urine and the people just shadowy figures passing here and there. She kept her eyes focused on the passing scenery.

screech – “Last stop!”

She arrived. No bags, just her. She asked for quarters and found a payphone.

ring – ring, no answer

click – clack- clack, put the quarters back in

ring – ring, no answer. She left a message.

She used a strangers phone to call a friend. She was stranded – alone. He lived several miles away but it felt like they were on opposite ends of the earth.

A dark man came close in a red sedan filled with women of the night. Their faces painted for love. He asked if she was alone.

pop – boom, he stepped out of the car and walked over

He promised to take good care of her. The women in the lipstick stained car joined in the coax with squeals of drug-induced delight. She declined his offer and backed into the station unharmed.

knock – knock, “It’s me.”

Female wide eyes opened the door. His cousin and his girlfriend stared in disbelief. She pushed her way to his room, where her letters had been littered as old newspapers. Neatly on the wall were pictures of a new face and notes written, not by her hand, but another. She sat down, hot with anger.

gulp – gulp, bourbon

thud, put down the bottle

She cleansed her hurt with the elixir. The lump in her throat eased away the more she swallowed. It became the fuel to her flame.

boom, slam the car door

pop – pop – gulp, down goes the camouflage double stack and a pink lady to be sure

Minutes later, the country town was a distant memory. She smoked Marlboros slowly, while caressing the wind between her fingers.

boom – clap, the hurricane came to south Georgia that night

Her nose fell into white clouds that cried as her body became infested with alcohol and shrouded in cologne.

click – click, she rotated the barrel

pop – pop, it was empty for now

That night after drinking, snorting, popping, fucking, dancing, and laughing – she carved his name in the inside of her left wrist and the name of their unborn child in her right. She laid down.

sniff – gasp, “I loved you most.”

cold_heart_by_greenxin-d2i9knj

Aside

Italo Calvino said: The more enlightened our houses are, the more their walls ooze ghosts. I’m sure that we would love to say that our lives have been all roses and champagne, but that is rarely the case. It takes … Continue reading