5/6/00 3:49 PM
I am transcribing this mornings’ writings.
It is 11 a.m. I have been naked all day.  So many windows to look through, both physically and in the mind.  
I have been near silent the whole time I have been in this house.  I find it so strangely familiar here.  It fits; it all fits in the mysterious cosmic way I have yet to discover.
*I am a person who visits ‘his house when he is on trips.  And here I find myself on a trip or two indeedy.  The house, thought 1, I love his style.
It makes me think of what I want for myself.  There is fantasy and reality to indulge in here.
Reality is the space and freedom.  Space for all things special and ordinary.  I miss space and order.  He has all the thought provoking areas of interest of a real home.  The colors are rich, deep blue, burgundy, and browns, all used in an artful mix of styles.  Oddly pondering here because I would choose many of the same pieces myself.  Every room has space for dancing, which I have done naked a few times here now.
Everyone else is watching big screen movies.  I am in the other living room on a big brown leather couch; still naked, touching all of ‘his things with my body.  
I awoke this morning to the sound of the modem.  I swear it is the perfect alarm clock for me!  You know I get excited every time I here the perfect connection.  
My dreams were vivid awake and asleep because ‘he is on a trip and I am sleeping naked in the master bedroom.  There is the possibility he could have come home at anytime.  I had spent 6 hours already that night naked in his home without his knowledge.  Everyone is used to me being naked when we come stay here.  I don’t want to put clothes on here, in this house.
It is not the people around seeing me naked in the yard sunbathing, or running around the big house with big windows which have no coverings btw.
It is the space and atmosphere that draws out my facets.  This space sparks my exhibitionist in a feisty way. * All the ***** massages for me to relax and enjoy, just being papered to highs. *  
The white leather couch and a 60-inch screen for movies- others are sitting in the chairs and on the floor.
One joins me on the sofa.  Everyone is watching a movie, so am I when my eyes are open.  I am on the couch on my stomach, with a pillow under my hips and my head.  My legs spread wide, there I am being touched inside and out constantly.  I moan, open my eyes and see the many eyes on me and the ’s.  I close my eyes and smile and say “watch the movie you guys geez”, giggle, wiggle and moan again.  The surround sound covers some of my whimpers.  
As soon as the movie was over I walked to the master bedroom and turned on the light.  HIS clothes, files, and suitcases were still on the bed.  WoW he really could come home.  I wanted that bed!
-We- cleared the bed and I jumped in the middle and put ‘his pillow under my ***.  I don’t know ‘him, but I love his style and I wanted to *** on his bed and pillows.  The fact that I come here and stay naked all over his things excites me, and he has no idea.  And yes, I came all over the master bed, we ****** madly!  I know the others heard my bells and chains clinking at a feverish pace.  I listened to the sounds ‘his bed made.  I fully enjoyed his headboard, grabbing his oak poles, feeling each one up and down, as I was getting closer to coming.  Ahhh my hand finds a broken bar, I think how it must have been broken by ‘him doing what I was at that moment.  That moment I came.
My mind was so in this “space”, that after we were spent I jumped up and ran to the pool.  Everyone else was still wake and followed me outside.  Skinny-dipping after hours of pleasure is the best recovery!  Wooo Hooo!  
I was the only one naked – still, I didn’t mind and neither did anyone else.  They were announcing to me when the pool jets came on, giggles, they wanted me sitting on them.  A wind picked up and I went inside, everyone followed me in.  
We all watched Eyes Wide Shut, and then everyone went to his or her separate rooms.  
I took ‘his room, I love the big space, the many doors and windows all left open, so nice and free.  I stood beside ‘his bed and slowly dropped my chains and bells beside his slippers on the floor.  I sprawled about on his sheet and fell into a light sleep.
I was dreaming that there was a camera taking pictures of me, while I was replaying in my dream the real conversation I had with ‘him the night before.  He was asleep on the phone, I called and he never fully woke up to give my message to his roommate.  I listened to him breath, and I spoke quietly to him, softly and sweetly, he spoke back a few times and then I hung up.  But in the dream I was having it was *******, and I was talking in my sleep, in ‘his bed.  What a twist of cosmic ways.  With all the dreams: of the snap shots and the discovery of me in his bed, ****, alone and moaning **** me.   In my dream I was saying it, and I know the other people in the other rooms could hear me speaking my mind in my sleep.  The rooms are close by indeed.
Awoke by the modem with 5 hours of sleep, I was stiff bodied, yet excited to wake up in ‘his bed.  It was 8:30 a.m. I rolled over and moaned loud enough to draw attention to myself, knowing it would work .
I kept my eyes closed and softly said how sore my ribs and back were.  The hands of the night before returned to rub my body once again.  After a few minutes of morning massage, I smiled, giggled and rolled off the bed and darted to the pool.
Naked morning sunshine, I love it, jump in the pool and by the time I got fully wet the coffee came to me.  Everyone was eating breakfast poolside while I skinny-dipped my body into a limber state.  After breakfast everyone jumped in the pool with me, but I was the only one naked.  We all swam for 30 minutes or so.  I spotted the lounge chair and decided to sunbathe Seconds after my body reclined, the hands and oil came to pamper me once again.  I was spread out in full view of all in the pool, getting slicked up al over, with oil and such.  It felt great inside and out, I didn’t care that everyone was watching me get my ***** satisfied.  I was vividly aware of where I was, out in the open space and the freedom of space, as I thought my *** rose in the air and my body twitched repeatedly.  I heard the voices in the pool, and felt the sun on me as I came hard, right there in front of everyone.  Hell, I needed help getting up off that chair, and an oiled hand took mine, and led me to the master bedroom.
The master’s bed now has oil on the sheets and the headboard, and the wall.  I left myself all over his things.  He will know some of my essence whether he knows it or not, I will.  Here I sit naked in his den loving every naked minute of it.
I am back from being oil girl.  Being bent over people spreading glistening oil on nakedness, my *** got a lil bit to much sun!  I go to the master bedroom again, everyone is still poolside.  I try on things, because they are left out on the bed.  You know how I always ask what a mans' favorite pair of pants are?  Well there was 501’s in my size, I couldn’t resist sliding him on me, loving how they fit my ***.  I went back outside and paraded around showing how good ‘his pants fit me.  “Do you have underwear on?” I was asked, I laughed and said no.  I got an odd look from the people.  I danced off to the bedroom and put them back, knowing how he fit was enough.
Right now I am sitting outside writing and a camera is pointed right at my *****.  So I shall stand up for a few shots.  I got up and stood on the table and spread for some close ups, ****, ok enough sun, my **** are red.
After delivering a few drinks poolside, I return to ‘his bed, laying on my belly, thinking, pen in hand.
I hear the shower turn off and I close my legs, I feel the wet drops hit my back, as he sits on my legs.  He is holding them together with his weight.  I feel the oil hit my back, sliding down the crack of my ***.
The lower back massage becomes two bodies sliding against each other.  At first his hands slide between my tightly pressed thighs.  My hips grabbed and lightly lifted, raising my *** in the air, yet tightly holding my legs together.
A breath on my neck touched me at the same time he entered my ***** once again.  My pen never left my hand.  I was focused.
I go for a smoke and jump back into the pool, knowing its time for me to leave soon.  As I enter the main room, in just *******, I pick up my lotion and start putting it on my arms.  Hands from behind gently take the lotion and begin putting it on my sunburned back.  I defiantly feel the fact that I have ******* on as the hands reach my lower back and slowly pull them off……

we create worlds
here on the internet
connecting we those
we will never see

chatting over virtual
back fences about
children, cats, recipes

we meet those who
have similar views
and those who don't
discuss things of import
show sympathy with
sad faced emoticons

we wish each others pets
happy birthdays with
cartoon characters

we share our art, music
and photography
then there are us poets
who write our hearts
for others to see

it is a melting ***
of thought and culture
of the full spectrum
of ability.....

it is a place of secrets
or exhibitionist excess

it is in many ways a wonder
and many ways a curse

the internet, really
just like the bottom
of an old ladies purse
full of useless lint and
used tissues, but if you
ferret arond long enough
you will find a dollar
or a hard candy

Home surveillance
accessed by cellphone
as the exhibitionist
walks the halls.

Peek-a-boo.

Multi-camera action,
one of the more positive aspects of your Orwellian achievement.

© S. Wesley Mcgranor

i know you think im joking
but a pervert saved my life
she came to me one day
to **** me with a knife

i said oh no no no don't do it
ill do anything you say
then she said im a perv
and i want your love all day

but to love a perv is icky
your a creepy girl
she made me smell her feet
and dance a spinning  twirl

wow she said you did that well
why don't you stand on your head
look up my dress and say im hot
or for sure you will be dead

i realized she was very odd
and asked her what was wrong
she said i was married forever
and couldn't have his ****

so i went off my rocker
not getting what i needed
but made believe for years
that i was never ever cheated

then one day i snapped
and cried for lust all day
so they called me purvy *****
and tried to keep me away

the more i went with out
the hornier i got
until one day in torment
i loved the smell of rot

i fell in love with filth
and to this very day
i have no scruples at all
ill do anything for a lay

now pull your pants off
and show me your little ****
dam its so cute
ill lick your lolly pop

she used her tongue like a twizzler
it was really fun
and then i realized i was like her
and my life as a perv begun

so if your starved for love
and craving ***** lust
you might as well join the ranks
of pervy folks r us

99% Switch
96% Degrader
94% Rope bunny
93% Dominant
90% Rigger
89% Degradee
88% Sadist
87% Brat tamer
83% Submissive
83% ******
81% *******
79% Master/Mistress
76% Primal (Prey)
74% Primal (Hunter)
74% Experimentalist
73% Brat
62% Non-monogamist
50% Owner
47% Vanilla
43% Slave
42% Daddy/Mommy
38% Exhibitionist
10% Ageplayer
100% Girl/Boy
7% Pet....meow

I’ve become  invisible
Maybe it’s a virus and I’ve just got a touch,
The automatic shop door didn’t open so I’m left in a lurch,
Even when  I stood on the spot once blessed by the church.
Then the shop attendant missed me in the queue,
A car nearly knocked me on the footpath too.
Clearly I’m unseen.

As this progresses will my eyelids become translucent?
With my eyes shut how will I sleep?
Maybe I should wear dark glasses and not take a peek.
If I wear clothes will it be funny?
I will definitely get a job as a shop window dummy.
Is that what happens in the invisible limbos,
We become manikins in shop windows,  
Watching the world looking at them,
What we the invisible will be able to tell.

From my shop window I imagine at half past eight,
The people hang out or just walk past straight.
Starting with the kids skipping school,
Uniform tucked in schoolbag to fool,
Shopping bag used for energy joule,
Inhaling glue this hallucinatory fuel.
Each step these children take,
One step closer to heartbreak.

Then the anxious wife meeting her lover.  
Leaving behind her domestic bliss,
Sealed this morning with a husband’s watery kiss.
Waiting awkwardly in her Totoro dress,
One button behind and a zip does the rest .
Trying hard to be invisible too
This could all end in her being blue.

The rushing shop manager dressed in a suit.
Cuffs worn thin, pens in a group,
Red, blue and black,
A tick for success or none for the lack.
Mumbling along the company mantra,
“Think outside the box” there’s as good fella.
The only box he has ever known,
Are the imaginary boundaries in which he has grown.


A dog and his master trundle along.
He has been dead for years as he moves on,
Wearing a shroud of a used up life,
The dog squats down beside the tree of life.
Observing this stool in the daylight,
He compares to the Hematochezia he did last night.

A husband contemplating murdering his wife,
As the news of her lover has just come to light.  
He looks at the manikin with some delight,
Seduced by its empty invisible soul,  
Only to discover he owns that hole.

Then evening descends the lights are all up,
When work is all over it’s off to the pub.
Not for the invisible manikin though,
Who stays in the window dressed in a bride’s trousseau.
An invisible exhibitionist this poor sod,
So when you walk past it's polite to nod.
Now I’ll take two Aspirin and a cup of coco
And hope to God this invisibility will go go.

He's accosted Kim Kardashian, Brad Pritt and Ciara, but red carpet prankster Vitalii Sediuk tried his luck with a much fiercer face on Tuesday.

The Ukrainian journalist approached US Vogue editor, Anna Wintour, outside the Chanel show at Paris Fashion Week.

Wearing a black headdress and glittery sequinned glove, Vitalli broke through the security barriers and ran up to the notoriously icy journalist as she exited the show.

With a microphone in his hand, Vitalli could be seen attempting to get her attention - but nonchalant Anna kept her cool and dismissed the prankster, striding straight past him.

Anna's security stepped in immediately and removed the prankster, who made a peace sign with his hand.

Anna is by no means the first star that Vitalli has pranked.

He famously targetted Kim Kardashian in September last year in the huge crowd that gathered around Kim and her husband Kanye's car as they arrived at the Balmain show at Paris Fashion Week, in which her sister Kendall Jenner was walking.

In bizarre scenes, Vitalii - the prankster who accosted Brad Pitt at the Maleficent premiere in Los Angeles earlier last year - was reported to have pulled Kim's hair [which he denies] and almost knocked the then 33-year-old starlet to the ground, in front of Kanye and her mother Kris Jenner.

Security quickly jumped in and escorted a shocked Kim into the building.

This was just one of the many times the former journalist has had run-ins with celebrities including America Ferrera, Leonardo DiCaprio and Jennifer Lopez.

Brad Pitt recently spoke out about the infamous run in with the now-notorious Sediuk at the Malificent premiere in Hollywood in late May.

The movie hunk said he was forced to defend himself after the Ukrainian television personality tried to 'bury his face in my crotch.'

Brad said he was having a great time mingling with fans on the red carpet, but things soon turned nasty when Sediuk sparked a melee that left the heartthrob with broken sunglasses.

He told People: 'I was at the end of the line signing autographs, when out the corner of my eye I saw someone stage-diving over the barrier at me.

'I took a step back; this guy had latched onto my lapels. I looked down and the ****** was trying to bury his face in my crotch, so I cracked him twice in the back of the head – not too hard – but enough to get his attention, because he did let go.

'I think he was then just grabbing for a hand hold because the guys were on him, and he reached up and caught my glasses.'

The Moneyball star said he likes people to have fun, but argued Sediuk's antics could end up spoiling glamorous Hollywood events for everyone else.

He said: 'I don’t mind an exhibitionist but if this guy keeps it up he’s going to spoil it for the fans who have waited up all night for an autograph or a selfie, because it will make people more wary to approach a crowd. And he should know, if he tries to look up a woman’s dress again, he’s going to get stomped.'

Sediuk was sentenced to 30 days in jail after attacking Brad at the Los Angeles premiere of Maleficent.

He was already on probation for jumping on stage with Jennifer Lopez when he jumped over a crowd barrier at the opening of Angelina Jolie's new film Maleficient and struck Brad

He was charged with assault, battery, unlawful activity at an exhibition and delay of an exhibition, received the jail sentence plus 20 days community labor, 36 months probation and a $220 fine.

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/cheap-formal-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/princess-formal-dresses

I am exhibitionist
I lay myself out
butchered pig
sliced down the middle
perfect half
organs laid out

won’t you look?

Take the cut you want
I don’t need my flesh

I am exhibitionist
I give this
readily
to everyone
but

I am not my flesh
I am not my organs
I am not my bones
I am not what is
laid bare

I once asked a classmate at college
after a Sociological lecture on Deviances
why most women get traumatised and upset
about those perverts heavy-breather deviants
because where I come from, you'd laugh at their sickness
call them stupid and waste their money by not hanging up

And if you're crazy enough to be those perverts exhibitionists
who frighten women and young girls by exposing their privates
rather then scream and run, the woman would actually go to the
fool and yank his ****** trousers down and aim a hefty blow
to the offending sight, God help crazy silliness behaviours
where I was raised..

These perverts get their jollies from terrorising and the shock
reactions from their victims, that's their money shot
same with trolls and bullies, they relish knowing they cause upset
or fear or some emotional responses from their victims
Hell, I come from a place where cowardice is recognised for what it is
The rationale is so simple, you've got beef with me, say it to my face
that's what confident real worthy people do, stand by your words
anything else shows you lack courage and you are immediately called out and exposed as a weakling and a coward.
They will tell you, have the ***** and talk to my face'
A cowardly man is the lowest of the low, as simple as that.

But a worthless idiot who hides and then start hissing and cursing
immediately shows cowardice and becomes a joke and a useless example of a man,
So how can the ******* spewed by a pained faceless nonentities impact me, how can a hidden coward without the nerve to face another man, be considered an equal or respected, much less cause me emotional pain or make me doubt myself.
These fools that are given the run around by clever Asians and Africans. Tell me more jokes please!
I actually enjoy toying with fools and when bored take the ****
out of them and bait them to laugh at their ridiculous comebacks.

Do me a favour, how can a semi-illiterate yobs, who turn ghost white and physically trembles at the
the slightest pressure wants to get into my head and disrupt it

These shameless buffoons, who are being academically humiliated
by indian classmates, whose parents come from dirt poor villages and can barely speak english.
Such proven fools and cowards, then decides they can come and terrorize me, like we say where I was raise
" for where"   that means ',   how is that possible

Even an oxford educated person who can't face me earns my fine
contempt, you call yourself Oxbridge, what's respectable with being a coward who can't talk man to man but sneaks around playing a childish game, utter contempt!
Even with their artificially created chaos and difficulties i still
fare better then them
and these pathetic sickos think they are relevant in some way

But I know, they get off the contacts with me, its like I bless them
with recognition
after all there are perverts who pay women to kick them in the *****

I feed the trolls, as my mentioned above, our woman would yank down the pants of a ***** pervert exhibitionist rather than scream and run away, you don't go crying, saying I am emotionally damaged by a mentally ******* fool and pervert dropping his pants, you know immediately this is an idiot not worth two bits, you treat simpletons as simpletons,
what's to be terrorized about by some scallywag dimwitted
cowards with problems and inferiority complexes.
Pray do tell me.....................

If I Was anything the compound fools are alleging would I be here laughing at them or perhaps I am stupid like them, and can't recognize demonstrable spineless cowards and what they do.
He's broken, we've planted seeds, he's anxious, he's crying, some mentalist even says, the coolest stylish man is goofy.

These are the brain dead bullies who pick on the prettiest girls and start calling the ugly, the classic bullies trade make, flip everything because you are all brain dead, smelly ignorant, dumb nobodies
Trash like this want to alter my personalities, want to do my head in

Ohh.....puuluuzee!!

it's like watching a elegant array
of dancing barbie dolls.
there's some beauty in it,
but it's plastic beauty.
there's no rawness, no guts,
no emotion.
cheer is not an emotion.

cheer is not happiness,
or elation,
or bliss.
cheer is the exhibitionist,
mechanical representation
of real joy.

one girl was really good
at cheering,
but her partner kept
messing up.
I could see she was angry
that her partner was ruining
everything.
but she was grinning bigger
than the rest of them, because
that was part of
the routine.
part of the
cheer.

he messed up because his body
was wrought with tension.
he couldn't relax and live it
because he was too ****
stressed.
too **** worried he might
ruin the cheer for
everyone.

I've never been an exhibitionist. Fame and money have never been my goals. If I played music it was for myself, softly so no one could hear. If I made art, it was unassuming doodles on scraps of paper that didn't matter. If I wrote, the final pieces were buried away, whether in journal pages or word documents in neatly organized file folders.

Social media changes everything.

Suddenly, everyone has a voice. Suddenly I'm thinking, why not my voice, what's wrong with my writing?  Sure, I didn't get an English degree, I hold no MFA, but plenty of people write online, after all, it's just the Internet.

"It's just the Internet." What a catch 22 - in my head, it's either "Don't air your ***** laundry, no one wants to know," or, "Go ahead, air your ***** laundry, you're a speck of dust in the grand scheme of things, who's going to care?"

I've never been an exhibitionist, but social media changes everything. You have a thought? Tweet it. You like a photo? Pin it. You have an opinion? Post it. Facebook, tumblr, ello, Hello Poetry, wordpress, blogspot - there are so many venues, take your pick. The world is your oyster. Express yourself.

Fame and money have never been my goals. And I don't say this in an attempt to be original. I don't say this with the idea that I'm above anyone who'd want either. Because let's be real, would I say no to being paid to write? Of course not.

No, what I'm really after is something else. Connections. If I unleash my thoughts into that strange universe that is the Internet, maybe, just maybe, I'll get something back, a spark, a "message received." Not a "Hi, how are you," but a "Yes, I understand. Let's share stories."

If he lacked polish and was avaricious without any limit,
he could have taken her  by force and justified that she provoked,
knowing from each move she made,
she was teasing him, and taking it to the extreme,
he may have gone over to the top, any moment.

They stayed in two rooms adjacent
in that backwater resort, a breath taking delight,
in the mornings she paraded
in front of his room, skimpily dressed,
as he came out, her beauty seemed to overflow
from bra top and she encouraged him in many ways
by suggesting many possibilities of pleasure.

A waiter comes and knocks at  his door
he gets a complimentary drink, his favorite
courtesy to her(obviously she has made meticulous research)
along with shrimps and clams cooked in olive oil.
When he came out for an evening stroll,
at the far end of the compound, in the shallow part of the lake,
she was taking bath, with an exhibitionist flourish
when he smiled at her visibly timid, she amorously pursed her lips,
she was in an adventurous mood, like nature at the time of bloom.

"Seen your paintings, loved those sensual nudes
reminds me more of myself, in front of a mirror,
obviously they are all seekers of pleasure, I am sure.
I am a singer, they say my voice seduces, all
you to me do the same when I see you as the painter,
in flesh and blood" she paused for a  breath.

"If I lacked polish, my paintings wouldn't have the magic,
you speak about; it's not deliberately created, that's impossible.
It's pure poetry, that oozes by itself, a blessing I earned.
There is no wanton desire here. Magic of the sensual
is charged in the atmosphere.I feel it all the time,
be it morning, evening or night,
the possibilities of pleasure is limitless.
Express the best way one deems fit, be liberated."

Under these hushed, tranquil hours,
I bid sweet dreams to you and the night
pulsing this love through my veins.
Into oceanic dreamscapes,
I take us,
as the stars omnisciently bleed through blue skies heaven.
Your silhouette plays exhibitionist to the moon, its' light dimly casting over our sweet lullaby. 

Wrapping you in the solace of nighttime wishes,
You bathe me in a sweet sea of serenity,
our bodies swimming in harmony.
Seeing you so close, I bend ever closer, whispering,   
"sweet dreams, baby",  as my rains gingerly bleed through pink petals heaven.   

Come morning's first sweet ray of sun, we'll serenade a new ******, as I bid you a good day.

I can’t help thinking
that almost every girl I meet
could possibly, potentially be,
yes, a screamer in the sack,
or better, a soul mate in the sack,
or even a confidant in a coffee shop, or anywhere.
And then they could jointly rule my kingdom
imperiously, like the Queen of Babylon,
or maybe Bathsheba, who was having a bath
when David espied her and then jumped her in his boudoir.
I suppose an exhibitionist needs a ******.
Gee. But it wasn't kosher for David, the King of Judea,
to then have murdered Bathsheba's husband, Uriah,
so he could afterwards marry her.
What? Yeah, this is all in that whodunnit,
the first tabloid, the Old Testament.
But look, I'm getting away from the path here.
What I'm talking about is girls that I innocently meet
without trying to get them in closer.
I don't spy on girls in the bath or the shower
and I don't have anyone murdered for *** or for power.
Or for anything! I'm a writer, see?
I simply imagine, inside my head,
that we all fall fabulously in love,
and blow our minds instead.

Mike T Minehan

I wonder
where does your heart lie?
where does the extra go
when it's time to put on a show?
You live as an emotional exhibitionist
but golden lips trump hollow veins
you only show the world
your trophies and save the rest
for your pillow
so I wonder
where does your heart lie?
Who scared you into thinking
emotions are for the weak?
That sadness reaks of vulnerability
and that missing someone is unspeakable,
I wonder,
where does your heart lie?
The soul you expose
for the world to know
is a sliver of the pieces
that make you whole
you show only gold
when copper lies below
and I wonder
where does the rest go?

Amber was an atheist,
she thought the world was dumb as hell.
Britney was a botanist,
who had a fertilizer smell.
Candice was a coroner,
a scary passion for the stiffs.
Diana was a drummer chick,
that knew a few guitar riffs.

Evelyn was evil, man,
all leather suits and chains and whips.
Farrah was a therapist,
got in my brain with swinging hips.
Greta was a gunslinger,
she'd give most anything a shot.
Hannah was a homebody-
shy as hell, but twice as hot.

Iris was an Ivy Leaguer,
thought I was a total fool.
Janice was a juggler,
who liked to play with power tools.
Kimmy taught karate,
who dated me just for the kicks.
Louise was a lyricist,
who wrote about how guys were *****.

Marilyn was mostly mean,
she liked to fight and then make up.
Nancy was so negative,
I had no choice but to break up.
Opal was an occultist,
who liked to gossip with the dead.
Paula was a *******,
that made me pay to come to bed.

Queenie was inquisitive,
the questions were too much to bear.
Rosie was a recluse
who never shaved or brushed her hair.
Sidney was a sinful sort,
with toys and gadgets 'neath the bed.
Tina was a twisted chick,
with thirteen voices in her head.

Ursula was uber-cool,
always on the latest trends.
Vicky was on Vicodin,
and we all know how that one ends.
Wanda was a wanderer,
that left to join a circus troupe.
Xena the exhibitionist
liked to do it on the stoop.

Yolanda was young and fine,
and nearly cost me everything.
Zoey was a Zombie fan,
she got hot when he would sing.
I'd like to say I've settled down,
but since the alphabet is done,
I'm gonna met an Ann or Anita,
and give it all another run.

i'm 7 1/2 inches  old. 8  by you.left. a film on me
like melatonin.leaking outside of it.vocaloid choaking. kawaii grunge in the  
waterlogged
meniscus.my genocide- your ears.ihate the way it ran
down the wall then.   better.if i crouch inside your cradleface18+ years
ago. like an inflammation.    you qualify for
recursion_  
like the newer- more appealing nightterrors.we escape      certain
allegories. by gutting them. filigree-
whipped outside.to punish the exhibitionist inside: your lanky breathing.i am tired of borrowing your guilt      i must be good.you
think.i break my wrist.
we.




anyways,.

I'm a faithful cheater with the ability to lie honestly.
I'm a pacifist with anger management issues.
I only ever hurt the ones I love.
I cry when I'm happy, and I laugh when I'm sad.
I can be an ugly lover, with compassion when I'm mad.
I hold nothing sacred, I wear my heart on my sleeve.
I consider my self agnostic, with a passion to believe.
I have the mind of a demon, and the soul of a saint.
I'm a shy exhibitionist, that can easily frustrate.
I take pleasure in my misery, there's a sadness in my glee.
And all these contradictions, are but a fraction that is me.