The trouble with being blessed with a propensity towards finding solace in written words - is that too often, it leads one to a form of solipsism - one that distracts the male libido away from the tawdry bar-life, the one that is real and fornication-ary, and yet also so very beyond this screen, this page, this echo-chamber of pervy poets ( Read more... )

I could use a revolution: something without an SKU, without an ad campaign, without a God, without T&A, without pharmacopeia; and yet it's gotta be pungent enough to assault my brain, change my soul, and get me excited about kissing you again.

What's it gonna be?

And please don't say love.

I feel lethal, and so I strike them down with words that outmaneuver the best of them. Then I realize that it isn't really me, but instead my reflection doused in caffeine. It isn't my true intelligence; it's just clichéd pharmacopeia.

I feel like a let down, and yet the sensation is sublime.

Is it hypochondria, the worst, or something in-between?

Something in-between is so often so very sinister and yet also so very common.
I'm convinced that most of life resides in hidden corners, crevices, and pits.

"Hmmph..." she whispered. She sounded bored. Like all pricey shrinks do ( Read more... )

She was older than me and a Kiwi, and so I had presumed that she was also much tougher than the American girls ( Read more... )

How many of these dreams went unrealized because we chose to prostitute ourselves to the company of fools ( Read more... )

Disclaimer: I posted a short-story here earlier this morning, and was called everything from a misogynist to a racist by a couple of users in this community. I deleted the post immediately to avoid drama. Since then a few of my friends have said to me that it's still an interesting story, and perhaps still worth sharing instead of self-censoring ( Read more... )

I keep telling myself that I love growing my hair out, but then I hate the way it falls on my forehead ( Read more... )

The only emotions that mattered to him were the ones that came in the final hour before dawn. Exhaustion was a cruel mistress - the kind with black leather, handcuffs, and whips - but she still brought out the best in him ( Read more... )