I Cut my Flesh for You
I cut my flesh for you
I bled for you
I revealed my soul to you
You raped it
I opened my mind to you
You mocked me
I gave my heart to you
You smashed it
Now I am a pile
Of rotting bones
You are filled
You are free
I cut my flesh for you
I bled for you
Falling off the Ottoman
Scotti is HER name
and Falling is her game
She came over to see deviant Art
But instead fell over--old fart!
She's not hurt, just her pride...
It was only her ass that went for a ride.
She fell to the floor with a THUMP!
Now on her butt there's a BUMP!
"Stay away from the stool
if you want to be cool..."
For Our Soldiers
There are people who have died for me
People who I have never seen
They fought so I could proudly say
"God Bless America" today.
Friends for years, gone to Iraq
Friends I fear may not come back
I check to see if they've sent word
From many of them I have not heard
When mail comes I open it and cry
Their letters don't matter, just knowing they're alive
Each night when I lay down and pray
It's for the soldiers far away
Whose selfless service proves their worth
These are the bravest, strongest men on earth
Their morals and leadership can't be beat
They don't know the word "defeat"
Those men fight with friends who might die for me
Friends who I have never seen
Who fought so I could raise my voice and say
"God Bless, God Bless my USA".
It is just him and me in the car today. My hands are in my lap and my feet are crossed. I have been in this position so long that my knuckles are white from my clenching them and my legs are numb. It is better this way. If it could all go numb that would be best. Often I have felt this, that if I could just fade out of this world, if I could just melt into the molecular content of my pillowcase at night, no one would miss me and I could not cause any more pain. He wants to know if it was over. I say I don't know, but we know. We both know. For me, this trip to the warm springs was as symbolic as making the sign of the cross to finish a prayer. With one peaceful and silent act of resolution, it was over.
He has not spoken to me since that little rest stop in Idaho where he told me I made him sad. His face is serious, covered with the wrinkles of thought and hurt.
Not So Easy Money
I cannot believe I am doing this. I really can't, but... I need the money. I am twenty-three years old and I am doing this. Here goes... I open the door to Maurice's book store. I was told to look for a tall, dark, and handsome type fella in his late twenties. I thought those types were only found in fairytales, not old book stores. So his girlfriend said I would probably find him at the back of the store checking out maps. It smells good in here–distinctly like the worn pages of fifth-grade science text books so I take a deep breath. And another deep breath. It calms me a bit and I step slowly toward the back of the store in search of this "JP" fella, this alleged hunk of a man. Yeah, right.
I stop. My heart is beating out of my chest.&
Two Germaphobic Sisters
Call us anal (or call us Sistahs) but, with the shortage of flu vaccines, we have found it necessary to use "science" as the basis for an article on proper public bathroom usage, in order to prevent the passage of germs and (gasp!) disease!
Step 1. Opening the restroom door, without touching it. How do we do this? The best way, we think, is to strategically follow the person in front of you so that they have to touch the door and you can slide in behind them—germ free. If this is not possible, have a tissue ready to open the door with or use a body part such as your foot, knee, hip or whatever else you are gymnastically inclined to.
Step 2. Once inside, stall selection is critical! First of all, a good guideline is to pick the stall that is the best lit, as studies have shown that people tend to use the dimmest stalls most frequently. (Why is that I wonder? So t