Posts Tagged ‘whore’

For 100 dollars you can come in my mouth

Monday, 7 January 2008

For 100 dollars you can come in my mouth

Fury at wet socks
in a cheap vinegar room
the struggle for light in Mexico that night after all-day
west-east flight through frightened pussyless skies,
the plan to get laid
laid months in advance.

the first whore a dud adding to my
misery in the deafening bar, but now upstairs again with this one, blonde,
naked ass curved long like the view in a peephole,
pear breasts, body glorious but fading,
as she finished undressing I made her say it again
because I really didn’t understand.

Her English was good, the last item on the menu, better,
“For 100 dollars, no condom blowjob and you can come in my mouth.”

money laid down, again,
she tricked me as I tried to squirt her while lying on my back,
missing the mystery sweet spot that makes the hot white blast,
instead it poured out like angry white ants.

She grazed the softening tower with her lips, short blonde hair tickling my crotch like teasing rain.

I had fucked and failed again,
wanting to fill her with the years lost
from both of our lives, blah blah blah,
there was no time for sentiment
it was over so fast,
already forgotten by one of us forever.

Upon reading Howington

Thursday, 27 December 2007

I’m nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there’s a pair of us — don’t tell!
They’d banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!

~Emily Dickinson

RE: I AM NOBODY

Apologies, Howington, I can’t toss too many silver dollars in the fountain of your comments section when I’ve got ego to toss off here.

I would kill myself if I were guaranteed the cessation of all feeling, but after living this long I know that suicide is no escape, even in death there is no peace, you’ll be back at the DMV or living a real life Beetlejuice.

Whatever awaits on the other side, be it endless torture or pleasure or taking up yet another body and resuming the grind on the blue marble, I don’t want it. Only a damned fool enjoys this Endless Stupid.

The only asshole really seizing the day is the Tax Man…he knoweth it’s harder but not impossible to rob the past and screw you today while tomorrow is already spent.

The Pornette: Unanswered, Living Why

Wednesday, 31 October 2007

If there’s such a thing as a Liar’s Resume, the LA version must include having “dated” a porn star. Every time the subject “came up” in a group of guys, at least one would “confess” to such a tryst. During my years in the LA shithole even I’d been up close to a few working pornettes, just not as their date or “partner”. The energy of “The Industry” is poisoned, what an Old Testament Jew might call “unclean”. Lust has no effect and nothing to do with it; lust is a real emotion and pornettes radiate only lube and glitterdust.

With the exception of parasitic dudes seeking a free lunch from Jenna Jameson-level millionaires, I can’t understand why porn stars get married.
“How was your day, honey?”
“I was the cum-soaked centerpiece of a 20-dick circle jerk. Did you get the mail?”

One of the reasons porn women are able to perform is they’re mentally-unstable, emotionally-damaged, just plain fucked-up, so the absolute lowest, least sense-making move is when they have kids. Why a pornette would want to add Breeder to her list of achievements is illogic defined. What kind of mother material comes out of being a pig-on-a-spit between two dicks all day?

I feel bad for the children of porn stars. It would be better for kids to grow up with two gay parents than a digicam whore. That is all.