Monthly Archives: September 2011

Sick Love Distraction


I want your stock, bulk and muscular cubes in my beef stew.
I want your weathered gray eyes to add milk to my coffee.
I want your inhalations to wake me at bed and breakfast.
I want your tiny fangs to make me immortal to your touch.

I want the animated beastly aura to ravage me savagely pink in unorthodox pleasure.
I want the sex to your rapist kingdom until my thumbs go down and my cervix breaks out in cold fret.
I want the cot of your hairs to marinate me with its sweat until I’m drenched as you my Dear wake me up DEAD!
I want long conversations to uncover strong manifestations on the writing portfolio of your wits.

I want the best of both worlds with memories that’ll friend us midday and tempt us in evening to be enemies the day after.  I want nothing more than to be the steroid you absorb from your pump to calm the storms of your wheezes that are

asthma.

-Pennington

Lost Sober


It’s crazy.

I mean, I know quite a few causes as to why I feel fucked in my head.  I’m this way and that way about everything.  I’m hot and cold like that song I heard on the radio.  I’m high and low just like a manic depressive or like the blood of my whorish mother.  But the subject at hand, well, I don’t know where to pinpoint it.  So I’m just going to let it hang out like my breasts once I’m settled in at home from a long day and unwind as if I were in character mode and talk to my imaginary audience.  Warning: I’m going to talk A LOT of shit!

You know how people claim nowadays it’s hard to Date?  Well, I think so, in a way.  But in a way, I think it’s always been the way it’s always been.  If anything it’s just bare boned for everyone to see.  What wasn’t allowed is allowed now.  Some men think it’s cute nowadays to not own up to their own responsibility of Chivalry.  As some women believe it’s adorable to dress up like Hookers yet act exactly as men in devaluing themselves by having sex with the entire world.  Adults should know better.  And Yes.  I blame the majority of adults.  Can’t blame the kids for they take after what they’re exposed to.

But what is it that consumes us stupidly?  During our teenage years one digests sexual experiences for better or for worse.  Things even happen at a snail’s pace.  And sometimes as teenagers we’re okay with this.  Sometimes we’re overwhelmed.  Sometimes we dwell and submit to a sex life done completely out of pleasure, pity, fun, selfishness, charity or low self-esteem, among others.  But as we mature (or so we think?), or receive the title “adult”..what gives us the right to believe that sex becomes nothing but a mad dash race to the finish line?  Why do we know our significant partners bodies so well, but find our partners to be stranger than strange on their value and belief systems?

I like to think as humans we like to throw ourselves against the current because in actuality we like to be considered fuck ups.  So we don’t have to find the courage to live with the responsibility that life is indeed what we make it.  It’s better to put no effort in happiness when happiness can change from moment to moment. Not to mention it’s a constant conscious effort to maintain one’s happiness.  If we’re always depressed we can say yes that was expected because I’m allowed to make any choice I want in the end.  It’s much easier to give up and live within the norms and restrictions of society rather than fight to be and remain an individual.  It’s also easier to regret.. than make new memories too.

It also seems like people are fine with searching for things to fill in their voids (I know I do with my Training Life) for lots of reasons.  But what I hate the most is when people make the silly decision to have sex for all the wrong reasons.  I wonder about Natural Sex and where did go?  Did it ever exist?  See, there’s a degree of dumbing oneself down like America once you engage in sex with a person you knew you shouldn’t have.

Instantly your IQ decreases.  Your standards are now the scum of the earth.  You feel ashamed.. you torment yourself and it trickles down and others can tell (like me!) by observing your behavior like a marriage settlement (or arrangement?) and than what do you know another regret..another fucking void, another pill to pop (possibly?), a drink (maybe?) or everyone’s tried and true… run back to the good ol’ ex (is it really fulfilling?) or go to church to bargain with..what?..something foreign.  Ah, but you, my friend lack faith in everyone including yourself.  Do you start back on Square One?  *cheeky smile*

I have many different issues on the line.  And I don’t know if I would call Dating one of them as it’s definitely something much more internal than that.  I have this pattern and I notice it last year as it became super clear like the time I practiced abstinence only to sense other people’s sexual energy/frustration.  For what seem like the life of me I couldn’t bring myself over the hump of first base with a guy.  And when I do, I instantly drop the word bombs on the guy some time or another during one of our hang-outs:  Once I kiss you I’m never going to see you ever again.

Most think I’m joshing.  I’m not.  Why would I kid about something like this?  Especially this one guy I truly did like despite the language barrier between us.  We got hot and heavy in the hotel room, where we made out passionately and I even allowed him to give me foreplay, lick my kitty all up until I almost came.  (The only reason why I didn’t cum was because I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of anything really.)  And after that night I told him the same thing I’m never seeing you again.  He thought it was a joke.  (I probably would have thought it was a joke too especially if I just finished licking someone off. ;) )  I wind up breaking his heart.  Completely unintentional though.  What else am I to do?  I have a trivial problem.  But I’d like to eventually get around to fixing it.

What I know is: I’m good for a stimulating conversation.  Peer pressured to have a beer or two.  I’m in it for a quick thrill.  I love the chase.  I love the fake conquest.  The imaginary notch under my million dollar diamond wrestling belt.  I love that I’m good at luring people in.  I like to see them struggle in my fantasy web.  I create a picture that allows me to be the Exception.  Yet if they give me a little, I’ll nibble on the bait.  If they stroke my ego just the right amount I’ll flash them a breast or two.  I only play for a minute as long as I’m in control.  See, if he shows me his greedy excitement, I split quicker than a guy who learns his girlfriend is pregnant.  I rarely ever make it to a home run.

Only once two years ago.

-Pennington