Monday, March 17, 2008

Pinky Baby

Pinky Baby

My clit wasn’t behaving like her usual self. She didn’t respond obediently to the tongue’s commands to “Come out, come out wherever you are!” When she finally did stick her little nose out from her shed, the nice young man playing with her just didn’t make her happy. Oh he tried (for over 30 minutes!) but eventually she traipsed her tired self back into her abode while another playdate was rescheduled. I apologized for the inconvenience.

“Pinky-baby, what’s wrong?” I asked her. I felt her shrugging her shoulders inside of me.

“Are you depressed? You know what ever affects you…”

“I know, I know…sorry to throw a monkey wrench into your plans, ok? Cripes!”

She’s never been this grouchy! Even when the ‘Crimson Menace’ makes its monthly seize, Pinky just goes with the flow (so to speak) and luxuriate as I pop chocolate bon-bons into my mouth, letting the Serotonin lull us both into a blissful stupor. While my stomach is crying No mas, Pinky and I both giggle as the chocolate makes us forget about sex. I had to get to the bottom of this, and quickly!


“What now? I was just about to take a nap!”

“Um…are you getting bored with your current friend who comes over?

“You mean the guy you are currently fucking?”


“I guess he’s ok…he’s sort of a nice guy; I gather that from the conversations you have and he seems to make you happy…”

“But when you’re sad…”

“I swear, if you start singing Barry Manilow I’ll stop talking to you!”

“Ok! I just wanted to let you know that I was getting concerned. Our brain thinks that maybe we should visit the doctor.”

“Is he hot?”

“Now Pinky, I’m being serious! Either you start working with me or…”

“Or what, more manhandling? Seriously, invest in some different porno flicks, will ya? And for God sakes, is the dial on your “Personal Massager” stuck on 10? I swear, I keep thinking I’m having an earthquake every week! Really, must your orgasm equal the possible destruction of my home?”

“Ok, so it’s me.”

“Duh! You are having a conversation with your pussy! Hell-o, I might be the brains and spokesperson for your vagina, but honey, honestly this is sad…”

I sat up in the bed and just stared at the wall. Pinky twitched; it felt like she was shaking her head.


“Now what?”

“What am I doing wrong?”

“You know what you’ve been doing wrong all along. Don’t blame this shit on me!”

“But I-“

“It’s funny, you can open up dialogue with me and badger me about what’s wrong and bully me into opening up (no pun!) but when it comes to guys, you lay back and take whatever lackluster effort that comes your way!”

“But Pinky, David was giving you a lot of attention not that long ago! He was down there for a long time.”

“And he SUCKED! Well, I wished he sucked…”


“Oh quit acting so wishy washy! He was horrible! And so was that guy you, I meant “we” met a few months back with the English accent that really got the juices flowing- until the “Three minutes of ecstasy” was over and you swore to me that we’d never see him again! Remember him?”


“Right, old Hot Rod. Not only did he not know how to ring the bell, but he barely made it past the front room before…”

“I know, don’t remind me!”

“No, no, you need this tough love! You wanted us to have a heart-to-heart, so we are. You fake your orgasms, and that insults my intelligence! Frankly, if the guy doesn’t put in the effort, then why should I? It’s confusing!”

I was being berated by my clit and the truth stung more than a little. I started to cry, sinking into my pillows and feeling like an idiot. I cheated myself sexually everytime I faked the big ‘O’ because either I was pressed for time, or felt bad for the guy who couldn’t get me off no matter what, or…I don’t know. For too long I’ve been skating by feeling grateful for the one guy who have satisfied me sexually and just put up with the few who haven’t just because I wanted the relationship to work, or even start.

“Hey, are we ok?”

“Don’t play with me Pinky…”

“Wow, pot, kettle, black…”

“Ha fucking ha, Pinky!”

“Seriously, I just want “us” to be happy like you do. Don’t you think we deserve it?”

“Yes, we do.” I wiped away the last of my tears.

“One more thing.”

“Yes, Pinky?”

“Your brain sent me a message, but um…could we just cuddle tonight? I’m not in the mood right now.”

“Ok Pinky.”

Friday, February 8, 2008

Baby Got it Bad

Baby Got it Bad

i’m aching all over
can’t get warm
too many tears spilling
on bed sheets
i’m in the eye of the
the phone refuses to
my cigarette is burning
in the ashtray
my world is falling apart-
i didn’t get my fix

i can’t get it together
i’ve taken too many
aspirins within an
a glass of scotch is
glued to my right hand
i haven’t eaten in two
i need a long hot shower-
fixing the mess which is
requires so much power

this state i’m in
makes me want to
peel my
love and/or drugs
i’m crippled by my

Clutter and Clarity

Clutter and Clarity

to view the real window into my soul
one must take a walkthrough of my

comfort and cozy
items all around
i know where certain things are
other things will never be

hardwood floor used to
late night pacing
a coffee mug on the floor
after one of my late night
caffeine chasings

but there is a corner
where a modest laptop sits on an
immaculate tiny desk
away from clothes on the floor
next to a closet that’s a complete

simple yet complex-
that’s who i am
when i plop down on the comforter
on my bed
this woman is truly her own



fresh washed strawberries
whipped cream
i feel your fingers intertwined
with mine
we carry the succulent tray of
delectable edibles
together to the

scented candles arose the room
sitting on plush pillows
i stare at your juicy lips
and trace strawberry juice
on them;
your sexy pout has me hypnotized
a dollop of cream lands on my
you tongue tickles my face and
i am in swoon

we are looking into each others
our wanting is so evident
feeding each other
caressing faces and moving in
slow motion
our devoured food not satiating
a true hunger

i follow your footsteps to a bed
with rose petals all around
your kiss on my neck melts me
I am forever yours…