I have deleted more words in the last month then I have written in the last three years.  My words can no longer stop nor bring my tears.  I am numb.  The blood that used to boil within my veins now refuses to even flow.  Death does not even welcome me.  I have become a shell of my former self, spending too many days wishing I were someone else.  So now, as even my words fail me, I struggle to give this life meaning.

This Moment

The world outside is cruel
a violent mess

Inside we shut it down a moment
read our bodies
facial cues

We get lost in US
in our
pseudo reality

as our bodies touch
our minds
set free

We shut it down a moment
live while we’re alive

the world outside is cruel
for this moment
we stay inside

Lock & Key


Hear my confession, hear my plea

I am weakened with selfish needs

Thoughts of desire, given freely

Shaken to my core, I fall to my knees

And you standing, with lock and key

Both caging AND freeing me

Strength to fly, with wide-spread wings

How can I leave, for you, are the air I breathe


Coffee with the devil and crow


Feeling impossible, and impossibly feeling

Screaming, Fuck You, to stop my head from reeling

The devil, invites himself in, grabs a cup a coffee

My morning begins, jaded, sideways, melancholy

Then, I notice the crow, perched outside my window

The devil, grins his way, sharing a secret, only they know

My mood declines rapidly

The devil, the crow, simply glare at me

I continue though my motions, seemingly unaware

Fuck them both, I simply don’t care

This day my act, this world my stage

You’ve rehearsed well, the devil says, noting my age

I ignore him like some bothersome gnat

Our relationship, has come to that

He doesn’t scare me, for I’ve crawled through his hell

And his crow on my window, fuck him as well

Nothing At All


Nothing at all
is what you say
as you walk in the door
and you take


Hard against the wall
the cabinet
the desk

The files
fall to the floor
in a giant heaping mess

Nothing at all
is what you say
as you push deeper inside
on this rainy midday

I whimper
I shudder
I come
I say

Nothing at all
as your kiss covers my mouth
taking my words away

What Is, Was


No new, or old words in my direction… What Is, Was

Originally posted on The Migraine Chronicles:

What Is


and what Was


do you comprehend

do you get this shit

do you understand

any of it

It’s the same as it was


and now

it’s the same as it was

but it’s different


I can’t explain it

anymore clearly to you

you either get it

or you don’t

what’s old

is now new

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Show Me Something Else


Can you image, finding something else… tingles…

Originally posted on S.K.Nicholas:


Take me by the hand, and show me something else. Places and thoughts others dare not dream. Emotions and ways of living that are deemed strange and obscure. Lead me away from the mundane. Let me turn my back on the masses, and let me be free. Don’t talk to me about love. Love is cheap and second hand. It’s a chemical reaction, and we cling to it with blind obedience. Love is a trick, a lie we count like sheep to help us sleep at night. It’s so easy and unfaithful, making a mockery of all who fall under its spell. And sex too. It’s nothing special. We’re just slaves to instinct. There’s no magic to be found, only loneliness and self-obsession. Reproduction a lukewarm function. It paints a vulgar picture, of how easy we are to please. Everyone drowns in love. Everyone likes to be numb. Surrender the…

View original 596 more words

I Put A Spell On You

Originally posted on The Migraine Chronicles:


Ghosts, goblins and witch’s brew

My love, My dear, I put a spell on you

a spell of love and sexy things

to fall upon you this Halloween

I put a spell on you, to make you mine

to make you love me ’til the end of time

hocus pocus and bippity boo

My Love, My Dear, I put a spell on you

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Halloweenie ~ A Duet

A Halloween Story with Nottooold2

A windy, chilly All Hallows Eve
My baby cuddled up on the couch with me
A creak, a crack, what can that be?
My big strong man gets up to see

On highest alert I scan for danger
Apparition, ghost or stranger
No demon or ghoul, nothing to fear
For here in my arms, there is safety my dear

Relaxed and cozy, my mind at ease
Easily getting back to my baby’s needs
A moan, a groan, did I hear a howl
With devilish eyes, he pulls me to the shower

A howl and growl from deep within
Breath and heart racing, ready for sin
With nibble and bite passions ignite
Feigning a struggle, as lovers do fight

Naked, wet, soapy and slick
She whispers to him, “treat or a trick”
Before he answers, she’s on her knees
Taking her own treat, his Halloweenie


If you have not already read Insecurely Confident I highly recommend you do (seriously, highly), or I’ll put a spell on you.  You will find a giggle, a tear, and some smiles too.  Now go, go, I’m asking nicely of you.

Again, another enjoyable writing experience writing with Mr. Nottooold2.  I can’t praise him enough.  He gives me giggles, happy tears, and smiles too, and that’s just during one writing experience.  tee hee


Witches Brew


He called me a Witch
I giggled
He really had
no idea

I got super close
whispered in his ear
Oh, just wait
just you wait
My Dear

I ran my finger
up the length of his back
his neck
pulled him in for a kiss
then pulled back
just a bit

Told him
you’re gonna have to wait
for this

I pulled
just one tiny piece of his hair
he didn’t notice
didn’t care

He watched my ass
as I sashay away
I blew him a kiss
call me later

Hair, in hand
trickery on my mind
hard men like him
are tasty
to find

Back at the forest
throw hair into cauldron
stoke the fire
this potion
starts bubbling

He called me Witch
he’ll have to wait and see
call me later
the drinks
are on me

THE BEAUTY OF LOVE (Lino Robles × Bruised Belly )


A gigantic Thank You to Lino for not only having so much patience with me while I was struggling, but also for being supportive. My determination to finish a piece with him helped pull me through my worst case of writers block yet. Forever Thankful xo

Originally posted on lino robles:

I write you when looking for comfort
is what i told her
no matter the question im willing to answer


Be the poet & you be the ink for the writer
in the open like a fan at a concert
with a lighter


No matter your perceived flaws
to me you will always be a work of art
painted & consumed for you a la carte


Now I’m climbing
from the abyss
thinking it might be you
that I miss


You are pulling me
toward the light
offering me strength so I continue to fight


You always have a good day
each smile you give makes my day
the thought of you is all it takes
to write the beauty of love on my face

Any feedback appreciated Please feel free to leave comments, follow or reblog thank you for your support! : )

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He Touches Me


He Touches Me

Originally posted on The Migraine Chronicles:


He touches me
down the length of my back
caressing slow

I feel him
run his fingers through my hair
smooth, gentle flow

I hear his voice
whispering in my ear
eager, soft, low

I feel his desire
filling my entire being
warmly, it grows

He touches me
with every breath I breathe
yet, nobody knows

View original

Fuck Me Perfect


He fucks me perfect

fucking perfectly

I know I’m not

but he wills me to be

His words

His hands

in my Pussy

fucking me harder

past my fantasy

His throbbing cock

deep within my throat

fucking me perfect

as I choke

back the past

back the pain

swallow reality

beg him


Fuck me perfect



Hummm… Should She?

All Hallows Eve

is approaching…

Shall I write something spooky??  Scary??  Haunting??

I just crawled out of Hell!!

There did that scare the shit out of you??

She throws her head back and laughs.  Nobody else finds it funny.  She laughs to herself.  She may be mad.  She probably is.  She has crawled out of Hell, what do you expect.  She sits on her bed with her laptop waiting for the fucking floor to drop, or the ceiling, or maybe the walls to crumble.  Any of those things, or none.  She would not be fazed.  She is both alive and dead.  Fingers typing faster than her mind can think.  Making up for weeks of neglect.  Her mind jumping between visions of fantasy and reality, heaven (no fuck, not heaven, just life) and hell, mostly hell.  She is sane, probably not sable, but most don’t like her that way anyway.  She’d do pretty much anything for a beer and a hard throbbing cock right now, but sits alone and bed and writes about it instead.  She has found that turning off a laptop is much easier than kicking a man out of her bed.

So back to.. should she write something scary or haunting for All Hallows Eve??