I have one who likes pain.
She says don’t be afraid to hurt me.
Never mind that I have 280 pounds to her 95.
She has a cinder block wall in her room
And when she comes she bangs her forehead against its corners
And the neighbors below take a broomstick to the ceiling and stab it in anger.
I pull away from her and make note of her trembling legs.
At any moment I expect the cops to come busting thru the door, cuff me, and walk me down 3 flights of stairs, my dick dripping all along the way to the squad car.
If this is meant to be my last piece of ass for 6 months then
I’m going back for seconds.
She stops me as I approach. Our lips lock and she says
“Listen, don’t put your dick in me again if you’re gonna be a faggot. I have the eyes of an angel but the mind of a tortured GI.
Shame on you if you can’t be as bad to me
as I can. “
Any dumb bitch can read the alchemist
Shit I’ve seen strippers read it in the lobby of a tanning salon.
So it doesn’t mean you’re special
It just means you have enough smarts to make it to 30 without too much self doubt.
But 31 is six months away
And I can tell your emotions are having a fire sale trying to rack up enough spiritual currency to get you a husband, a condo in San Diego, and a summer retreat in Playa Del Carmen
All you know is what you want
But what you don’t know is why
was born in Los Angeles right around the time crack cocaine was getting off its feet. The music was getting worse. And the city would have to wait over 10 years for a decent riot to shake things up. After losing his ass in too many back alley dice games, he hit the road in search of forgiving pawnbrokers. After all the dust had settled he ended up in Arizona and began to write poetry. He is currently working on a chapbook entitled “Tinea Cruris: poems in heat”.