Asset

While you got her selling the one thing she knows she's skilled at,
her diamond in the rough, if you will,
while you got her on display like a candy cane
poised up to do tricks not even meant for a circus dog,
while you got her working her barely legal assets
only to receive a browbeating by the moral majority masses
while you pressure her to bend over backwards and forwards and sideways
makin' that rent happen,
what are you doing besides standing behind her
and being a dried up pussy?
Why not give her a break,
better yet, why not set her free
so she'll be forced to find a less than demeaning profession
while you take her place working your only asset...

your

    mouth.

Cappuccino Girl

I have a date

And can’t be late

With my cappuccino girl.

I know not her name,

Or much about her at all

But she’s sweet on me.

I can see it in her eyes and her smile

And her touch when she makes my drink

Oh so sweet.

I can feel a connection every time we meet.

She knows me by name and

Greets me with an eagerness that no one else

Can match

She always makes sure I am satisfied

And always asks me to come again.

The next time I see her

I’mma bring her a rose.

And why shouldn’t I? 

She’s the apple of my eye.

And if I don’t act now, it may be too late.

She’s not just doing her job and I’ll prove everyone wrong.

She’s really into me.

I work hard at a job I hate.

I live alone in a bleak apartment.

No one greets me. Not even a pet.

I watch the news.

I do laundry.

And I sit aside watching the world carry on

Without a care about me.

And then I see her, my cappuccino girl,

Waiting, just waiting for me.

Just one conversation about the weather

Or about my drink

Or about my hat-she likes my hat-

And my day is complete.

So I’mma seal the deal

Bring her a rose and who knows.

Maybe her eyes will glisten and her mahogany cheeks will blush.

Maybe a flash mob of customers will dance with glee

And Heaven will play a sweet symphony

And the passersby will clear the streets

While I lead her in a waltz. 

And the moon will twinkle in approval.

And the world will see that she’s not just doing her job.

She’s in love with me.

One day we’ll walk down the aisle and she’ll be mine

In this harsh world. 

SHE GETS ME! 

(emotional) We are meant to be…you’ll see.

So I went by there.  Didn’t see her.  They said she was on a break.  So I decided to wait. And there she was, behind the café, smoking herself away.  She caught my glance but this time there was a coldness about her.  No cappuccino smile.  Just a tar-stained snarl.  I greeted her but in return, she gave me a cold nod.  She threw her cigarette butt on the ground, spit, then went back inside and put on, what evidently was a fake cappuccino smile.  She was cordial with every person in line.  I had the rose in my hand and was going to give it to her, but it died, so I threw it on the ground.

And instead of getting my cappuccino, I left.

I waited and waited, frantic in my room. In the prison of my mind.  Then I decided to go back, just before it closed.  And then I saw her, my cappuccino girl.  She was about to get into her car, but I surprised her.  Never seen a girl so scared.  She lied to me. The kind of bitch that rips the hearts of lonely men, puts them in a blender, and shakes them soul less.  Having them think they are the most important person in the world.  But only doing it for a tip.  No different than a whore. A whore with a coffeehouse apron on.

So I taught her a lesson, that’s what I did.  I pulled the trigger and at her heart, an explosion of red stars fell to the pavement.  As she slumped, I lifted her up. Among a flash mob of customers, Heaven playing a sweet symphony, and men in blue scattered about as we waltzed one good time, just like in my dreams.

If I never see the light of day again, I know I at least found love for once in my life.  With my cappuccino girl.

My cappuccino girl.

Letter from an Inner Sex Fiend

To the fella in the paint stained jeans,

Fuck me.

Signed,

Inner Sex Fiend

I’m a bright eyed package of lust and wonder whenever I see you and your blue collar casual grace.  I see a hint of a smile in that pensive gaze.  We don’t say much but hello to each other and have a nice day.  But I know you’re feeling me and, like me, you would like to collide in a black on black war of body and soul in a dance as the sun beams on us, glistening sweat and desire.  Powerful like the scent of jerk chicken or the sounds of Georgia Anne Muldrow or this desire that teases me now and then to be the answer to your question, the space between mundane thoughts, and the sweet release to your awesomely painful long strokes.  

To the dude in the  paint stained jeans,

Fuck me.

Signed,

Inner Sex Fiend

Hell.

Hell is not a fiery red lake of flames, blistering heat,

And ghoulish faces laughing at unending torture;

It is not a dark, seedy underworld where the sound of death metal can be heard

And where one salutes each moment with pleads of mercy;

Hell is, instead,

A cold, pale place where air hits electrical currents to your touch,

And lips crack and flake as does each slow moving, drab day

Where dreams are deemed dreams because

Reality is a practical life sentence of boredom and necessity,

Where one quenches their thirst with expensive vodka shots

And numbs themselves with reality tv

Where life as do friends, pass you by if you’re not at your best,

And family come around at their convenience,

And moments of despair are daggered by sharp sarcasm

And you’re weak or crazy if you cry about it.

Hell is a sterile environment where everyone looks the same

Transcending race, gender, occupation, style

Reaching for that inexplicable

Begging for mercy by way of money, acceptance, or a reservation to Heaven.

Hell is a very cold place traveled to by those who

Choose to do more than stop by.  Its got a stronghold on those who,

If not careful,

Mistaken themselves for dead and accept it.

Hell is a temporary spot…a waiting room, if you will,

Where well-intentioned loved ones, advertisements,

And even one’s God of preference,

Threaten to drown out the voice of your soul. 

If you realize that you are built to withstand any storm,

You will already have become that much stronger

And you’ll see the light isn’t that far from your journey.