ANIMA ANIMUS

Contrary to what I may let out; I get smitten quicker that hookers run. Today marks a week since I started on my Tracy Chapman obsession. By obsession I mean the following: listening to only her for the past week, googling every piece of information on her, creating an album for every available photo of her I can get my hands on, analyzing every lyric in her songs, throwing her in all my conversations to the point that i pity every person who think it wise to give me a moment of their ear, going P.I on her ass and finding all rumors about her. OK I shall stop there to avoid airing my psychosis to the internet public. One of you might take it upon themselves to institutionalize me. After my thorough job on her, I think she is one of the most talented dykes I have come across and her music and I have a long relationship ahead of us. A woman takes what she gets. Best of all the music has poetry oozing out of every hole in me and I am not complaining.

  Yesterday was something else; it was the baby’s party. *refer to the last post for better understanding. For those of you who have never hosted a 5yr old’s party, lemmi describe it for you. It’’s held on well-chosen day by the baby mafia; a day when almost all children are free and well prepared to drain you in all ways. So they all show up psyched up like they are on drugs and no matter what you do, there is no putting them down. So I had to get sneaker than the brats if I was gonna make through that day with any joy left in me. I made hints weeks before on how busy I shall be on that particular day and I shall be available in the evening and so should the party itself. As smart as the idea was, it opened up unweighed probabilities that I hadn’t analyzed. This includes how they called and texted every few minutes to add on to their demands list, and the constant changes in the birthday boy’s gifts. I took my sweet time with other business. Only to find the cake house closed,

Ever needed something without knowing it? I used to think its how I feel when I hug him But then it doesn’t supersede how I finally feel like am breathing when I see him Like I just surfaced after hours under water Wanting nothing more than to never see a frown on his face His laugh on my ears His health with him You may think I am giving him a little too much rope to hang me I wouldn’t really mind if it’s him Let me explain the psychotic language a little bit I and others call him MD He is tattooed on my skin Engraved on my heart Running through my being I met him five years back and never have I been anything but honored He created me He completes me Builds me He gave me the me that I love Showed me a better I, that I only dreamed of So I work, read, learn, write tirelessly That he may still have that pride I see in his eyes when looking at me for years to come His approval the biggest motivation I have ever had His needs the biggest

I apologize, deeply sincerely apologize. For all that I haven't told you or reminded you. Lets take it from the top ...better yet from below. I kiss the gods rings for your feet, how you use them to rub my frozen ones on a cold night. To get me that calm and sleep that my insomniac tendencies always betray. Your flawless mono-skin-toned legs which joyously imprison me, when your wrap them around me inmate. Pardon my pun. Lets ignore the miraculous ability of your hips to sway to every beat and make it sound good, for such thoughts are how people find themselves in Iowa exchanging vows in front of a ten people crowd. At a lower stage of my learning they called it the abdomen, yours is an indescribable beauty which the eyes of the mortal have no right to see. I adore your long monkey arms whose embrace shields me from insanity. Your fingers whose capabilities beat those of all writers and artists combined around the world. Your fine-wool soft lips and how the first

I miss the day back when it was fun Back when I wrote rhyme of how we were one When the sounds of your steps brightened me up like the sun When your touch would make me or leave me broken When I whispered your name softly to calm myself When even a foot away from you split me into half When you looked good in everything you wore When I wanted everyone to see me with you When our lovemaking was sacred When us kissing prohibited my breathing When I sang only songs that reminded me of you When I danced with no one but you When I had only sweet dreams bout you When I couldn’t wait to eat what you fixed When I would kill for you When I couldn’t be without you When I wanted to scream it out loud When I did not hate P.D.A When I always had something sweet to say When I trembled at the thought of our next lay When we did something special every 10 th   day When I wanted to see you everywhere I turned I miss the days…when I wasn’t always sad. A

The 1 st recollection I have for Friday the 13 th is a horror movie (duh!) that I look at based on a vampire character that was the sexiest thing I had seen then. This takes a bad twist when I mention I was around 7years old. Around…am sorry I don’t have most of my childhood memories leave alone accurately. By this time being the wise ass I am, I already have most of the sex idea internalized. But it’s not that interesting at that point. Until Friday the 13 th , here is the scene that is still on my mind. The V is in a bar, on the dance floor. The music is loud, the lighting teasing. Sweaty and I imagine stuffy. This pretty girl in a dress is his pick, she is far, then near. They dance, they play…then they are close, finally touching. Holding her, he reaches under her skirt and disregarding whatever he was doing, she arcs, she moans, she cries, she screams, clutching on him. Finally climaxes…he bites her till her body is soulless. Focusing on everything but the last, this was the

I have a very important meeting tomorrow, not as important as the people who will be there. Therefore an unfortunate need to make a fuss about whatever I will be wearing, which has me in this self-destructive wardrobe state that has me making outfit attempts in hundreds and after this outfit millions. I won’t lie I am a sucker for looking good if we may put it lamely, in analysis. I overcompensate in my appearance due to the high demeanor morals that I instilled in myself after years of watching and realizing what a good suit can get you when it comes to customer service, or how a few destruction's like piercings and tattoos can lower people’s expectations of you and give you an added advantage when it comes to making impressions. How dressing up in the morning makes you smile for no other reason at the end of the day. How it gathers up confidence within you, that is if you need to add unlike me. How good a tie feels whether you’re male or female. How quickly a visible stain ca