I have been to dark places,
I have seen dark things.
I have railed against the Gods,
I have felt the damage hatred brings.

I have screamed my throat raw,
I tasted blood on my lips,
I have lain bruised and broken,
Traced scars with my fingertips.

I have seen the damage of rage.
I have tasted the heat of passion.
I have heard my own anguish.
I have smelt my fear and indecision.

But at least, I could feel.

Sugar Mama

I was recently accused, in jest, of making someone my toy boy, and by extension, I, their Sugar Mummy.

Generally, when we’ve gone out, I have footed the bill. I was the one who invited him, hence, my treat.

But, it raises an interesting point. In recent times, being the last 5 years, a trend has emerged where I will pay automatically.

I don’t like to be paid for.

In my head, this creates the expectation that I have to give something in return. I do not like being beholdent to anybody.

But, it’s also that I enjoy the power and freedom that comes with paying. No guy I have paid for has come back with an air of entitlement to another date. Even when a guy argues we should meet again so he can pay, I am not under any pressure to agree.

I like being the one to dictate where we go and when. No snide comments about how “it’s expensive.” Also, I don’t get cornered into going to places I don’t want to go to.

But, I digress.

I think I could get into this sugar mummy thing.

Tomorrow, today.

If all we had was here and now,
If tomorrow couldn’t be lay-byed today.
Would you tell your stories now?
Would today stop being memories of yesterday,
What else would you say?

Doesn’t matter, though, does it?
Today regrets yesterday,
Promises tomorrow,
Invests in possibilities,
Ignores the momentary certainties.

Nothing right,nothing wrong.
Just another day,
Another unsung song.

If all you had was the here and now,
If tomorrow was laid-bye today.
Would you tell stories now,
What else would you say?

Same Ride. Different Day.

Same ride, different day.
Cloudless sky, stifling air,
Summer’s heat,
Quiet despair.

Same ride, different day.
Same highs. Same lows.
Pretend it’s a different ride,
Because its a different day
And there’s another stranger at your side.

Same ride, different day,
Hands in the air,
Hands on the bar,
Eyes closed,
Wind in your hair.

Same ride, different day
Climbing higher to see new heights
Right before crashing lows,
Same view, but what sights.

Same ride. Different day.
Same ride. Different day.


I’d like to take you in my arms,
Feel your lips pressed against mine,
Filled with silent yearnings,
Your palm pressed against mine.

I’d like to feel your body near me,
To read your skin with my fingertips,
Feel your heart beating through me,
Taste hidden longings in your kiss.

I’d like to tell you that I want you,
Without it seeming carnal, hollow, and cheap,
To hold you, feel you and in this moment see you.
But words lead to fights, and I keep the peace.