All The Reasons

So important to tell the people you love that you love them, and why you love them as well. The reasons might even be obvious to you, but they might not realize all of the things they do for you that seem so special and endearing.

Mama, I know your life is busy, but just for a few moments, stop, read and absorb each one of these non-exhaustive reasons why I love you.

I know I don’t always tell you. And sometimes I hurry about my day and forget to show you.

So, listen carefully and hear my voice as you linger on each one.

Please. Let the words sink in.

And know this. I will love you, always.

Because….

1.     You are truthful and vulnerable with me.

2.     You are courageous.

3.     You give me the kind of feeling people write novels about.

4.     I adore your kindness.

5.     I like the fact that we understand each other.

6.     You picked me!

7.     You are smoking hot!

8.     You always support me.

9.     You sacrifice and work so hard, without even realizing that you are.

10.            That I can just be myself with you.

11.            Because we can stay up late together just talking about anything and everything.

12.            You have always refused to give up on me.

13.            You have never allowed any distance to get between us or separate us. 

14.            I can always talk to you about anything. I do not have to worry about your reaction and if you will judge what I have to say.

15.            I can be completely weird and goofy with you in a way that I cannot be with anyone else.

16.            Because we can be in silence together and things do not get uncomfortable or boring even when it is quiet and nothing is going on. 

17.            For absolutely no reason at all. I just love you and that is all. Sometimes, love does not need to have a special reason. It just exists.

18.            Because I cannot even begin to imagine what my life would even be like without you. I could never go back to how things were before you.

19.            Because you can be so cute, especially when you are not trying. Most of the time you probably do not even realize how cute you are being.

20.            Because of the way in which you treat other people. You are such a kind person who does not look down on anyone.

21.            Because even though you are completely drop dead gorgeous on the outside, you are even more beautiful on the inside. 

22.            You listen to my problems when I listen to yours.

23.            You were meant to meet me at that exact time in our lives.

24.            You LISTEN to me and HEAR me.

25.            You never judge me.

26.            Just existing and rambling on about everything and i’m going to be here to listen. 

27.            You not only run in your dreams, you can control how well you run.

28.            You are simply Irresistible.

29.            You found me. You actually did.

30.            I love your voice.

31.            How fast you speak when excited or upset.

32.            How you tell me stories about your childhood and I imagine how you were back then.

33.            You’ll eat the things I don’t like.

34.            Your achievements.

35.            You are a real life sleeping beauty. No, seriously, my slumber queen.

36.            You get me hooked on songs you just won't stop singing/playing over and over and over and over and over and over again.

37.            You are playful with me and a little crazy (the "little" has nothing to do with fear for my safety).

38.            Have you seen how passionate you look as you sing when driving? It’s like you are in your own music video.

39.            Your pink lips!!!
40. The faces you make when you stretch.
41. The weird sound you make with your mouth for no reason.
42. For never being afraid to be silly with me.
43. Putting up with my unique sense of humor.
44. Your immense capacity to love, whether it's directed at me, your family, a mosquito or your hair.

...to be continued

As If They Needed Another Reason Not to Send Me to the Conference...

I find that whenever I'm at any kind of Conference, whenever there's a female speaker at the podium, all I can think about is how it would feel to go down on her.

Seriously. From the minute she steps on the stage to the minute she leaves, I just sit there, tracing the outline of her legs with my eyes, trying to pinpoint exactly where on her body I'd begin my descent, and mentally conjuring what her reactions might be.

Have I reached the point of irreversible perversion? Do other guys do this? Do women do this when watching men speaking at a conference?

The Blight

Welcome to the wounded world, little worm,
there’s no time to lose you have to latch on
to your carrion mother’s rotting teat.
   
Burrow away; nibble, wriggle, and squirm,
gnaw on– to this fetor that has you drawn
deeper in her gangrene ridden rib cage.
   
Sink your razor teeth in green oozing meat
and feed with flagitious greed to confirm
the legacy of all pestilent spawn.
   
Little worm, it’s your birth giver you eat;
you turn the world a matricidal stage
to perpetuate the taint of decay.
   
Welcome to earth, wounded by modern age;
putrefied by a plague still spread to this day.

vivacious endeavours

If I could run away from me and you,
I’d build myself a cottage on the coast. 
I’d tell myself the ocean’s waves of blue
come from the sunlight, not the tears of ghosts. 
The castles I would sculpt from shining sand
would keep me from my memories of home.
I’d trace your words into the solid land, 
to be swept up as tides gave way to gloam. 
The sea is more chaotic than my mind,
and wild enough for me to write for years–
with terror, peace, and madness there to find
the sea might let me bury our shared fears.
But in my heart I know that it’s not true.
Each image takes my mind back home to you. 

i think i fell in love with you tonight

i think i fell in love with you tonight
on the doorstep where you kissed me good night
after a dance that made me feel alright,
and your small smile reflected the moonlight.

amidst all of this trying summer heat,
you kindled my spark into a high flame,
and for one moment we shared a heartbeat,
so i realized i’d never be the same.

this night, it’s right; it made me feel alive
with your hand tugging gently on my own
as to heaven you lead me to arrive:
it’s a place where we’ll never be alone

tonight: a kiss, the next day a goodbye.
the ship we sailed i will have to untie.

an actual sonnet

How can she seem to have fallen from heaven
when I’m the one that has fallen,
the one that’s all in,
while her mind is a weapon

And God, I am already in too deep
because she is just too beautiful
and everything I seek
while I’m a fool

And while she is kissing all those boys
that appear to her as pretty toys
my heart tattoos cries of desperation against my ribs

How should I ever enjoy life’s sweet kiss
when she is everything I miss
and most of all her gorgeous lips?

Another Reason Friday Rocks

Today is Friday, which is casual day at my place of employ. This means that, even as I type these words, pretty much every woman from 18 to 52 who works in our financial division is wedging herself into low-slung, too-tight jeans. This is not a day for me to be making decisions that could affect the fate of our organization or my position within it. That's what Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday are for. Today, I just slip it into neutral, and soak it all in.

The trick to getting the full show: Slide a manila folder under your arm. That's your "hall pass," so to speak. As you wander aimlessly through any place of business, so long as you're carrying a manila folder, peeps figure you've obviously transporting something of grave importance. This is particularly critical to getting into the IT wing, where many a cute young lass waits. And very likely bent over a server. Bonus!

Er, hold my calls.

headaches and snow.

 a headache through my skull that rose without
an explanation. love, for once, was not
the cause. what was it telling me about
us? maybe i’m enraged that you forgot
that feeling in your chest when we would sit
in bed for hours and hoped this moment would
not pass - but sadly everything won’t fit
in my idea of what i know we could
accomplish while we are together. pain
throughout my head is easy when i know
the only thing that’s left in this girl’s brain -
a memory that soon will fade like snow. 
it’s turning white and came in cold december
but it will melt and we will not remember. 

Honest Bones

i don’t believe that you have ever cared
for me. your words say what i want to hear, 
but then your actions tell me what i fear. 
oh you, my love, have made me scared. 
i never know what to expect when you
go off, and never know how i will act. 
you make me feel like it’s a heart i lacked, 
but you, you were without a heart, it’s true. 
no heart, no love, no honest bone inside 
that chamber you will call your chest, and claim 
it hurts you more than i. and i will feel
like you were best and i was worst, no pride.
you know the only thing i felt was blame.
so leave, cause now i need some time to heal.

Delicate

kiss me as though i am fragile,
i’m aware i won’t be the first.
to taste the sweetness of your breath,
your teeth, your thirst.

tell me sweet sorrows,
of love and loss and sin.
i promise i won’t judge you,
and i’ll try to let you in.

touch me like you mean it,
make me feel less alone.
your arms around my stomach,
bones touching bones.

leave me with no goodbyes,
spewing “fuck you” before you’re gone.
and give me a reason to hate you,
with no chances of hanging on. 

I like ice cream. I like ass. So really, it was only a matter of time until I concocted some Costanza-esque way to enjoy them both simultaneously.

As I learned just a couple nights ago, when eating ice cream off a woman’s ass, you should keep a few things in mind.

1) Roll with vanilla. Trust me on this. Chocolate is just too weird and if you’re into Mocha Latte Crunch with Teaberry Leaves then you’re probably not into chicks anyway. So, vanilla.

2) Go high-grade. Listen, it’s hard to find a woman who will let you eat her ass. It’s even harder to find one who’ll consent to having ice cream dolloped on her backside while you make like Jughead from the Archie comics. So spend a few extra bucks and roll with the Ben & Jerry’s or the Haagen-Daz to mark this occasion. This ain’t the time for that yellow “Stop and Shop” house brand vanilla.

3) Scoop some out gently with your fingers and let it fall onto the thick of her buttocks. In the name of all that is holy, don’t try to stuff it into her rectum like you’re filling a goddam canoli. Part of the fun is watching it gently cascade down her curves, and stopping it with your tongue before it dips too far south. Just like our ancestors did before God invented television and Entertainment Weekly.

4) If you decide to ask her to flip over so you can try this on her holiest of holies, remember that ice cream is “motherfucking colder than a fucking iceberg packed with ice, you fucking prick!” when applied to her more sensitive regions. Or so I’ve been told.

5) As attentive as your tongue may be, there will always be stray ice cream on her skin. After a while, this becomes sticky. Make sure that there’s a shower or at the very least a few moist towelettes nearby, lest she be shuttled off to Mass General to have her pants spot-welded off her body the next day.

If you take one thing away from this, let it be the vanilla. Always roll with vanilla.

My name’s Paul. And I approve this message.

Rarity

Rarity comes in many forms
the freckle upon her soft fragile face
the way his eyes twinkle the reflection of traffic lights
the curve of his thumbnail next to his cuticle on his left finger
rarity is just that
rare
in all forms rarity is the embodiment of humanity
loving that one special person more than stars in the night sky
hoping for a relationship that lasts longer than your parents’
breaking down after he broke you?
rarity doesn’t always mean good
what’s good isn’t always rare
because you feel the heartbreak so much
deep within the crevices of your heart
and decide this rare condition
it isn’t what you want to feel anymore
and the good parts mean nothing with the bad parts

FOR YOU

I don’t want to say anything about
how dark it is right now, how quiet.
Those yellow lanterns among the trees,
cars on the road beyond the forest,
I have nothing to say about them.
And there’s half a moon as well
that I don’t want to talk about,
like those slow clouds edged
with silver, or the few unassembled starts.
There’s more to all of that than this,
of course, and you would know it
better than most, better I mean
than any other, which is only
to say I had always intended
finding you here where I could
tell you exactly what I wanted to say
as if I had nothing to say
to anyone but you.

On the Night Shift

Back in September, realizing that huge chunks of my income were being siphoned away toward electricity, gas, food, hookers, whiskey, child support, alimony and that damn blackmailer who's got the photos of me with the shop-vac, I took a part time job. It wasn't much; just working the desk at a hotel within a couple minutes of my place. It was time alone to read, write and reflect, hand the occasional guest a room key, and get paid.

A couple months later, I got a promotion at my day job. But I kept the hotel gig. Because I dig money, and there's always room for extra. And also, the hotel I'm working at is a veritable hub of sexual activity.

Seriously. In the four months I've been working there, I've heard literally 5,000 excuses from guests for having to check out early. As in roughly three hours after they checked in. One guy said his big sales meeting was canceled. Another said one of his kids came down with the flu. Yet another said he needed a place closer to the city. All of them ushered a female pal out the door as they shuffled toward the exit. 

I've seen the married couples looking to spice up their lives with a little "hotel action." I've seen escorts and dommes stop in to set up shop for the weekend. I even had one guy ask me where he might find a women who would come to his room and let him wash her ass with Windex.

I also get propositioned by the occasional private investigator. The guy who comes in, drops a fifty dollar bill on the desk in front of me, and asks if I've seen anyone check-in under the name "peachy peach" or "kissy kiss." Because I am a man of some moral fiber, I never take the bait. Who's dogging who isn't really my business, so long as they leave a valid credit card and don't bother their neighbors.

And in my four months of employ at this hotel, I've learned the following things:

1) If you're looking to make an adulterous connection in a local hotel/motel, don't enter and leave at the same time as your companion. It seems such a simple thing, but I've seen more buffoons waltz in and out with the object of their illicit affection on his/her arm, creating a private investigator's wet dream. Intent and opportunity is half the argument, folks; always make sure one of you exits the hotel, say, fifteen minutes after the other.

2) Hotel sex is apparently way, way hotter than regular "at home" sex. And why not? When you're in a hotel, that ice cream smeared on the sheets, the whipped cream on the rug and the whip-marks in the wall are the cleaning crew's problem. At home, they're just a nagging reminder of what a freak you are.

It's Tough Out There for a Gentleman

So I'm walking out of the mens' room yesterday at the office, and just ahead of me, walking out of the womens' room, is one of the premier office hotties. Let's call her L. 

Naturally, my eyes descend to her hindquarters -- which are quite remarkable, I might add -- where I see, to my horror, that she's trailing about a foot and a half of toilet paper from the back of her skirt.

And suddenly I'm faced with a dilemma: 

If I call her on it, I'm the perv who's checking out a fellow worker below the waist (which, any good HR person will tell you, simply isn't allowed. It's best to think of your coworkers as disembodied heads that you only need make eye contact with to ask about the Bayer file or Sheila in Purchasing's birthday). 

If I don't... well, I guess I'm a sort of tool for letting her walk onto the floor, amongst all her catty female colleagues, with a paper tail.

So I cleared my throat and called her on it. And she swiped it away, embarrassed but thankful. 

As I saw it, I'm already the office perv. I sure as fuck don't want to be a tool as well.

IT’S RAINING IN LOVE

I don’t know what it is,
but I distrust myself
when I start to like a girl
a lot.

It makes me nervous.
I don’t say the right things
or perhaps I start
to examine,
evaluate
compute
what I am saying.

If I say, “Do you think it’s going to rain?”
and she says, “I don’t know,”
I start thinking: Does she really like me?

In other words
I get a little creepy.

A friend of mine once said,
“It’s twenty times better to be friends
with someone
than it is to be in love with them.”

I think he’s right and besides,
it’s raining somewhere, programming flowers
and keeping snails happy.
That’s all taken care of.

BUT
if a girl likes me a lot
and starts getting real nervous
and suddenly begins asking me funny questions
and looks sad if I give the wrong answers
and she says things like,
“Do you think it’s going to rain?”
and I say, “It beats me,”
and she says, “Oh,”
and looks a little sad,
I think: Thank God, it’s you, baby, this time
instead of me.