You suck. You're argumentative. Fully negative. Selfishly attentive. A short fuse chasing a spark. You drive me nuts. Like metaphorically. Probably actually. Maybe literally. Draining every sane light with your dark. You got history. Lots of neglect. Not much respect. Already wrecked. Yet you never give up the fight. Except for the social. Honesty brutal. Personality duel. Resistance futile. It's take you or leave you, alright. You love me. You don't show it. Think I know it. Afraid to blow it. Or too stubborn to give me up. You still got me. Little tired. Caffeine wired. Temper fired. My kicks to your shins ain't let up.
Those hips though really slope so smooth hugging planes outlining grooves Where lips or fingers beg to touch I won’t press hard or linger much Those hips though really hold up fine over the bed underneath mine Where bodies join align as one Much like our love - not easy, fun
It’s 2 AM And I know I should send you home ...but you live three hours away in the mountains with snow what if you crashed? and this became our first and only date I can’t risk it Nope Not now so... It’s 2 AM And I know You shouldn’t stay ...but I’ve got a spare futon in this room out here and I swear I can sleep alone for another night it’s only been too many Nope It’s okay so... It’s 2 AM And I know You’ll leave tomorrow ...but I don’t have anyplace I’d rather go or be and if you don’t get up right away at dawn or if you pull me Nope I’m weak so... It’s not 2 AM I don’t know what time it really is ...but laying here beside you with these arms around me I honestly don’t care about the time the day or the hour Nope I’m where I always wanted to be.
Dear Love, Please send me: a cat lover short is good some nice padding tanned or darker patience is a virtue as is cooking, too my mom’s kinda overbearing so hopefully they get along and ooh - curly hair is cute a reader is a must someone who likes to listen and puts up with indecision maybe someone who enjoys cardio so we could workout together and has a big family like the kind that cooks a lot (emphasis on cooking!) but doesn’t want kids necessarily but gets along with kids of course and has a gentle spirit that’s happy to laze about with me ........... Oh. ........... Well, huh. This works too.
Toni had an “i” not a “y” but was still one of the guys. She’d grown up around the motorheads, raised by a kindly old retired biker who had settled down but never truly settled. He taught Toni everything she knew - how to ride, how to change oil, how to rebuild an old single cylinder thumper into a badass bobber - and she had loved him for it. Toni felt alive in the garage more than she had ever felt in school, but her mother had forced her to graduate at least through the high school portion of it. Luckily her father had hired her afterwards so she didn’t have to bother with the vocational school three counties away. The other garage rats were all Toni’s best friends, and they went out drinking and riding (just never at the same time - Toni’s uncle had died that way and Toni made sure to count everybody’s shots at the bar). They weren’t just a motorcycle gang - they were a motorcycle family. But poor Toni had a problem: she felt lonely still. She had tried dating guys after high school, but most of the boys just wanted somebody to stay home and pop out babies. Toni was too wild for that - she might consider kids one day, but not now. She had life to live first and she couldn’t do that stuck in a housewife’s apron. Her father had told her to take her time and wait for love to find her, yet Toni still felt lonely. When she tried dating other biker guys things inevitably blew up, and Toni felt tired of blowing up all the time. One day Toni’s best bro Al plopped down besides her as she tinkered under her bike. “Oi. Look at this, T.” She slid out and wiped a big swath of grease over one cheek. “What? I told you I don’t wanna see your porn mags, I ain’t a lesbian.” “Nah, T, I found you porn. Dig this guy.” He held up the magazine again and Toni squinted. She probably had nearsighted vision, but she refused to get tested. They might give her glasses and force her to be a nerd. Snatching the magazine and holding it close, she scoffed. “What, a ‘metrosexual’? What the hell’s that? They makin’ up terms now? How do you feel ‘attracted’ to metros?” “Nah, Toni, read the interview. He explains it better.” “Is this like when you swear to me you read Playboy for the articles?” Al’s eyes narrowed. “I can enjoy both, Toni. It’s called studying your enemy.” “Really? Your enemy?” “Hey - love is a battlefield, right? I ain’t losing to no girl, and if you ain’t a lesbian then that means I still lost to something else.” He tapped the article again. “Just read it. Tell me what you think.” With a heavy sigh, she paused her work and read. She actually read pretty fast - it’s why the boys often asked her to translate their tech manuals for them - but the article gave her a bit of trouble, mainly because the language felt so different. “Huh. He says he just likes to feel ‘handsome’ and that people need to respect men who have ‘culture’ - bro, this guy sounds like a jacked up pompous ass. No.” She handed the magazine back. “But is he handsome? Like, did you find him attractive?” “Sure, till I read his words - can’t love somebody if you can’t stand to hear them talk, bro.” She went back to tinkering. Al took another deep breath. “Toni - I think you need a metrosexual.” She laughed out loud. “Really? What the fuck for? Am I supposed to cart his little ass around the city on my bike?” Toni actually lamented the fact that motorcycles weren’t really built for a taller passenger. Most models jacked up the rear so the rider’s legs could tuck under and be safer that way - trying to put a tall guy on the back had caused Toni no end of troubles. Yet somehow Toni never seemed to fall for the guys who liked bikes. Instead she just fell for short guys, most of whom ended up having hot tempers like hers. “I think you can be kind of inflexible -” “WHOA - what the hell??” ″- and you need a guy that can bend, but not just put up with your shit.” He nodded solemnly. “You know, how like your mom keeps your dad in line, but lets him play in the garage?” She glared. “Gee, thanks for psychoanalyzing me as my Dad, Al.” “I’m just saying! I know you’ve been lonely, and I don’t think you’re finding what you need here.” “That doesn’t mean I need some ‘metrosexual’ guy!” “No, but...” He ran his greased fingers through his hair in frustration. “Look, you know how princes go rescue princesses from towers? Like, think of the city as a big fucking chrome tower.” He pointed to her bike. “That’s your steed. I think you need to ride in there and go save yourself a princess. You gotta take the lead, because you need a guy who’s cool with girls who do that. And you’re always complaining to me that guys don’t like it when you ‘come off too strong’ at the bar.” Toni raised an eyebrow. “Really, love master? This is your solution? Besides, what the fuck am I saving that guy from besides his own goddamn arrogance?” “Exactly! See, you get it!” She shook her head. “You’re nuts, Al. Just get over me already and go hit on Gloria. You know you’re the only one of the guys she gives extra muffins to, right?” His face went blank. “Wait - really?” “Bro, seriously? You don’t notice how she flirts with you?” He frowned. “I thought she was just being friendly. It’s not nice to assume girls like you when they’re just being nice.” “Oi vey, bro - she likes you. Trust me. Just go ask her out sometime. Save her from that kitchen dungeon she works in all day.” Gloria loved baking, but even Toni knew sometimes you needed a break from your everyday. She often wished she could think of some kind of hobby outside the garage. The motor fumes alone were probably slowly killing her when she wasn’t outside riding more. “Alright, fair turnabout - but I’m only gonna do it if you start riding into the city on the weekends.” Crossing his arms his jaw set. “As your wingman I can’t exit the battlefield until both of us are victorious.” With a laugh she spun her wrench. “Fine. You know what? I’ll head into that city. And I’ll go hit on the first corporate shill I see.” “No! Fuck, Toni, are you listening to me? I said metrosexual - not corporate shill!” “What’s the difference?” “I dunno, just - trust your gut, huh? Don’t just hit on the handsome guys, like hit on the polite ones. Like me, just if I were in a suit and maybe more of a confident jerk.” “Fine, whatever. I’ll go into a big city bar, all greased up and boyish, and we’ll see what happens. M’kay?” Al beamed. “Excellent! And then you gotta tell me what happened.” “Bro, you are such a girl. And I don’t gotta tell you shit unless you go and ask Gloria out.” “Okay! Okay!” He smiled and slugged her in the arm. “Love you, bro.” “Yeah, yeah, big fucking hearts all around, you stupid lovesick ape.” She kicked him back. She always wished she could have just fallen for Al, honestly speaking. Yet sometimes she needed a brother more than she needed a mate - and Al fit the first role too well to lose him. As an only child Toni had never had any siblings, and she took what she could get. Besides, Gloria had had her sights on Al since grade school and Toni respected a woman who baked her way to people’s hearts. She kinda wished someone would bake their way to her heart some days too. Al’s always fucking hungry anyway - Gloria will keep him better fed than I ever would...and she gives me extra muffins too but I won’t say that out loud. As she finished up taking care of her “noble steed” she paused and looked once more at the magazine Al had left on the floor like the dumb kid he still sort of was. Picking it up she read through the article again. Man, it would be kind of fun to have a guy to debate with instead of just slug out over a bar fight. Bet these guys couldn’t throw a punch to save their souls, they’ll just bitch a lot and think I give a damn. She frowned. Maybe Al had a point - she could be a bit inflexible, but eh, that was her charm. Maybe she did just need a guy who could bend more.
Love is work And I’m a hard worker Always have been, baby. There are others Who’re smarter or faster Who look better than me But I pull I do the heavy lifting And I won’t buck you off You can lead With all those dreams The ones I never bothered with You can nag It’s not like I’m great At really listening anyway But just know That I won’t buck Or throw you off so easy Love is work And I’m a hard worker Always have been, baby
OK That’s it – where the #%!% is the “Like” button??
I’ve been trying to dutifully reciprocate the Likes I’ve gotten for the kind folks reading my posts but everytime I go to hit a Like button 1) I can’t find it 2) it doesn’t seem to work
For reference I use a desktop computer generally / I know it’s old fashioned, but I’m an old school gamer and I need the bigger machine for the memory space (yup – all that junk in my trunk makes me sexy yo)
But now I can’t figure out how to share the love, and that is REALLY important for me – why can’t I find the Like button on my desktop???
I DID find it on my phone, but I’m trying to reduce my phone time because well healthy living and all that stupidity
(typed while writing on her damn desktop she spends way too goddamn much time in front of everyday)
first was a tree just a bump nothing big second was a dumpster just a scratch not to worry third was a t-bone as that car crossed the highway into the side that I sat in as my head hit windshield just some whiplash, a bump, and nose blood fourth was a fender kiss just a dent nothing major fifth another t-bone tipping the old van over to its side as I crawled out the busted windshield just some bumps and cuts, alright sixth got rear ended spilled some coffee, nothing burned seventh burst a tire running over a concrete berm Who knows how bad the next will be or if I’ll walk away next time like I have before which is why every time I leave the house I kiss you goodbye just in case it really is goodbye
When the weight within my bones Becomes more than it should be I wrap my ears in ’phones ’Till there’s only the iron and me When the rage within my veins Wrecks my inner harmony Each bar provides the reins And we ride, the iron and me It pushes against my core Ignoring past or pedigree There are no goals to score Only us, the iron and me Each lift breaks me down Each pull tugs patiently As my spirit begins to drown In sweat, the iron, and me I pour my heart into each press My breath in each “two...three...” As I lift more I carry less All I need is the iron and me When I finish my last rep Leave the bench for reality There’s a purpose in my step For I have forged the iron in me
Mage: “I want to go to the library today.” Fighter: “No.” Mage: “What? Why not? I went on your silly quest the other day.” Fighter: “That quest wasn’t silly - the village leader asked me to take care of the kobold raiding parties and I did. You just tagged along because you were lonely.” Mage: “Well, technically that may have been the initial reasoning, but I must admit testing out my magic missle was a bit fun.” Fighter: “So see? You enjoyed yourself. I’m not going to the library.” Mage: “But why not? Can’t you enjoy yourself in a library?” Fighter: “No.” Mage: “Fine, I’ll go on my own. Just don’t ask me to help you out on any more quests.” ----- Mage: “Hey, friend! How goes it?” Fighter: “Annoying. I think this village leader is an idiot. He keeps sending me out to kill kobolds and I keep telling him he could just build a better defense perimeter and I wouldn’t actually have to kill anything.” Mage: “Oh, right. Honestly I think the village leader is anti-kobold but anyway -- how about a new quest?” Fighter: “You want to go on a quest?” Mage: “Yes!” Fighter: “For what, a book?” Mage: ”...no. It’s an ancient cursed tome.” Fighter: “It’s a book.” Mage: “It’s hidden inside a cursed temple, filled with danger, traps, and undead.” Fighter: ”Wait, undead?” Mage: “Yup. Already dead. Didn’t take. No guilt in thrashing those dudes I mean hey, they had their chance, right?” Fighter: ”...you’re going to go after this book on your own?” Mage: “Well, that, see, I’m not very good with zombies?” Fighter: “You’re not very good with most things.” Mage: “Hey, I killed kobold raiders too!” Fighter: “After you took twenty minutes to figure out ‘the best spell to cast’ and do your little incantation.” Mage: “Immaterial. Look, do you want to go on this quest with me or not?” Fighter: ”...I guess that does sound more interesting than killing kobold raiders.” Mage: “Exactly! Let’s do this!” ----- Fighter: “Alright, we need to take a quest break.” Mage: “What? But I thought you liked quests. I had all these quests planned out for us this month?” Fighter: “Yeah, but I’m getting tired. I still have to do quests for the village leader too, you know.” Mage: “Right, that bastard. Ok, how about I help you out on those quests too? Then you’ll finish faster and we can go on more fun adventures.” Fighter: ”...right, so, here’s the thing? The leader already hired me some support.” Mage: “Huh?” Fighter: “I didn’t bring it up because it’s that Druid you hate.” Mage: “Wait, the one who’s always going off about how my books ‘kill trees’, like they’re some fucking non-renewable resource we can’t just grow more of?” Fighter: “Right, that would be the same Druid.” Mage: “Why on earth would anyone hire that hippie?” Fighter: “Ok, honestly? I’ve been suffering a lot of damage taking hits for you because you can be a bit slow -” Mage: “You did NOT just call me slow!” Fighter: ”- and the Druid casts healing spells, not just blasty ones.” Mage: ”...you said you liked my blasty spells? They cleared the crowds faster?” Fighter: “And they do! I’m just saying what if we face an enemy that’s not a crowd of angry creatures, right? I don’t think I can handle that much aggro. Druid helps keep me fighting, that’s all.” Mage: “Fine, I shall put up with this ‘Druid’ accompanying us on quests.” Fighter: “You’re still coming?” Mage: “Of course! I can’t trust that hippie not to turn around and suddenly go, ‘Oh, but that evil slime probably had a family!’ and not back you up.” Fighter: “Slimes don’t have families, I think they’re just elemental puddles of goo?” Mage: “Oh gods, you’re already lost. Let’s go.” ----- Mage: “What the hell? I thought you said they only hired the Druid?” Fighter: “Ok, so Druid made a good point that I don’t have very good range -” Mage: “You have ME! I have good range!” Fighter: ”- that’s tactical and doesn’t necessarily kill the target. We’re attempting this new thing now where we don’t kill the enemy and we kinda just stun them? Because Druid pointed out our enemies now are mainly intelligent, sentient souls...and sometimes we need to get information from them, we don’t just want them dead. Mage: “I told you that Druid was trouble.” Fighter: “He makes a point? And the Ranger has a very diverse toolkit of arrows and sometimes they’re kinda helpful.” Mage: “I have a diverse SPELLSET, what the hell?” Fighter: “But you kinda tend to overkill?” Mage: “I can not overkill! Fighter: ”...really?” Mage: “Watch me!” ----- Bard: “Ta-da! Let’s quest this!” Fighter: ”...what are you doing?” Bard: “I’m a Bard! It’s a support character thing I’m doing now.” Fighter: “A support character?” Bard: “Yes! I no longer deal damage directly. Instead, I buff you and the rest of the party and I can de-buff our enemies so their attacks deal less damage! Spiffy, right?” Fighter: “So, you’re useless in a fight?” Bard: “What the - I thought you said you weren’t fighting as often?” Fighter: “Nah, we’re still fighting we’re just not killing as often.” Bard: “Do you hear how stupid you sound when you speak, or is it just me?” Fighter: “Look, I just think you’re trying too hard here.” Bard: “Oh, that is classic coming from the bleeding heart who took in that Barbarian.” Fighter: “Barb’s good, don’t knock people with issues.” Bard: “I’m not knocking people with issues, I’m just pointing out Barbarian’s parents obviously could have done better, and if it weren’t for you that rage would have leveled a small village by now. Whereas I am perfectly sane.” Fighter: “You’re wearing pantaloons and taking a lute into battle.” Bard: “It’s a magical lute!” Fighter: “Do you hear how stupid you sound when you speak, or is it just me?” Bard: ”@!%# you! That is IT! I quit!” ----- Fighter: “Wait, our quest is in this tower?” Ranger: “Yeah, the village leader said some crazy wizard took it over and is threatening the town.” Fighter: “Why does this look so familiar...” WIZARD: “OH-HO! LOOK WHO’S FINALLY COME CRAWLING BACK!” Fighter: ”...oh gods, no. Please no.” WIZARD: “HOW DO YOU LIKE MY ‘SUPPORT’ CHARACTER NOW, MOTHER $!%#@ER! AM I SUPPORTING YOUR NEED FOR CARNAGE ENOUGH NOW? HUH? HUH?” Druid: “Wow, that’s a lot of anger.” Ranger: “And a lot of crazy.” Druid: “Maybe we should just put them out of their misery this time?” Fighter: “No! That’s not necessary, I know this Mage. They’re just...having a bad year?” WIZARD: “IF YOU THINK MY YEAR’S BEEN BAD YOU SHOULD BUCKLE UP, BUTTERCUP! YOU’RE ABOUT TO HAVE YOUR WORST YEAR EVER!” Ranger: ”...you truly know this person?” Fighter: “It’s a long story, I think maybe we just need to try calming tactics.” WIZARD: “OH, CALMING TACTICS? WHAT, LIKE SINGING? SINGING WAS CALMING - YOU $!%!@%ING IMBECILIC SWORD WRANGLER!” Fighter: *sigh* “Alright, can we just talk this out?” WIZARD: “I AM THROUGH TALKING WITH YOU! ALL I WANTED WAS TO GO TO THE MOTHER $!%!@%ING LIBRARY BUT NOOOOOO! WE GOTTA GO KILL SHIT!” Ranger: “Wait, the reason we’re fighting this person is because you couldn’t go to a library?” Fighter: “No, no that’s an oversimplification -” WIZARD: “YOU MEAN PAR FOR YOUR STUPID COURSE, YOU LOW INTELLIGENCE HACK!” Fighter: “HEY! Now you’re just being hurtful!” Druid: “I like libraries. I find them peaceful. I just wish they would find more ecofriendly options for their literary materials, I prefer an oral tradition.” Mage: “Oh, well if you like I’ve memorized the entire historical eddas of the local kingdom, I can recite them from memory? I could even accompany them on my lute.” Druid: “Truly? Gosh, I’d like to hear that sometime.” Fighter: “Oiy! Stop encouraging it!” Mage: “You know the library over in the neighboring kingdom has strict standards for publishing in order to limit the use of paper. They ask all scholars to submit their drafts, compare for similarities, then ask them to condense their works in a collaborative effort. They even have a local grove they claim stewardship over to prevent locals from chopping down old growths.” Druid: “Wow, that actually sounds amazing.” Fighter: “Wait, it does?” Ranger: “I, too, would like to see these trees. I enjoy canopies and nature very much. I honestly prefer hunting in nature to murdering in cold blood. These traditional quests leave much to be desired.” Fighter: ”...what the hell is happening?” Mage: “If we left now we could make it in time for their weekly poetry slam, I so enjoy a good poem.” Druid: “Words heal the soul.” Mage: “Well put, hippie, I must agree.” Fighter: “But we’ve still got those orc bandits to take care of!” Mage: *scoff* “If the village leader truly cared about bandits he might have invested more time into aiding their kingdom, rather than hoarding resources and wealth for himself.” Druid: “I must agree, that assessment rings true to the heavy guilt I have kept inside my heart these many seasons.” Ranger: “Is this poetry slam open mic? I too have repressed feelings I would like to express.” Fighter: “What the - no! No expressing shit! You’re going to set Barbarian off!” Barbarian: “Huh?” Mage: “Oh sure, it’s all well and good for somebody to work their issues out blasting the town from a tower, but poor Barbarian has to cage the rage? Typical physical attacker attitude. No empathy for emotional damage.” Barbarian: “What’s ‘emotional damage’?” Fighter: “Mage, seriously?” Druid: “It’s cultural, not his fault. I blame the village leader and possibly the elders too.” Ranger: “The cultural healing cannot begin until it has begun within the culture itself.” Fighter: “Ok, you’ve all gone mad. I’m just going to go fight the orcs myself!” Mage: “Right, see how long that works out without your precious heal-bot.” Druid: ”What did you call me?” Mage: “Oh! No, see, Fighter thinks they only hired you to keep him healed with spells.” Druid: “You’re joking!” Fighter: ”I didn’t say that!” Druid: “What the hell? I have offensive capabilities! My bear form is legend! You’re not the central hero of this party, you know!” Ranger: “Truly, such stereotyping feels like a betrayal of our times together. I have never considered you a simple heal-bot.” Druid: “Thank you. I also appreciate your non-lethal adaptability in combat.” Fighter: “I did not say you were a simple heal-bot! He’s putting words in my mouth!” Mage: *clears throat* “Observational diary entry, ’I’ve been suffering a lot of damage taking hits for you because you can be a bit slow -” Druid: “Wow, he called you slow? That’s hurtful.” Mage: “THANK YOU! Somebody gets it!” Ranger: “It is cruel to mock others for the stats they were rolled.” Fighter: “MAGE! KNOCK THIS SHIT OFF NOW! I MEAN IT!” Mage: “Sorry! Heading to the scary ‘library’, wouldn’t want some mean old librarian to set off your insecurities about being a slow reader, woooo.” Druid: “I am also heading to the library. I feel it is time I reconnected with my roots.” Ranger: “My people once had beautiful libraries. Perhaps I will be inspired to rebuild them in this fashion.” Fighter: “Wait! No, come back!” Mage: “You’ve got Barbarian, I’m sure the two of you can handle whatever bullshit quest you’re doing now.” Barbarian: “We’re killing bulls?” Fighter: “No, he’s not - Mage! Druid! Ranger! Please, stop! I’m just doing my job, I swear I didn’t mean to cause you whatever ‘emotional damage’ you supposedly have!” ... Barbarian: “Barbarian have emotions.” Fighter: “Wait - no, buddy, hold it in!” Barbarian: “Barbarian have deep emotions. Mother never happy enough...” Fighter: “Oh gods, kill me now -- FINE! JUST - FINE! OK? $@!# I’M GOING TO THE GODSDAMN LIBRARY! THERE, ARE YOU HAPPY NOW!” Barbarian: ”...we go to library?” Fighter: “Yes, just deal with it.” Barbarian: “Oooh, Barbarian think librarians sexy. Why you no like library?” Fighter: *facepalm*