I went to this weird ass party w/ MikeHunt and some other non sg grrls tonight... it was fucking insane. The party-- called the "capricorn party" was basically these old dykes jan/feb birthday celebration. When the 7 of us "youngin's" arrived, we entered what looked to be a college house party, except all the people there must have been 40 or older. I felt so out of place (and so did everyone else.) For a few minutes we searched for others our age, but soon found the place was crawling with horny old drunken dykes. A few were passing out mardi gras beads to those who flashed them. Yea-- so I flashed the old scary women at one point. What? So?
The party was definitely an experience... (omg I don't want to be like that when I'm older!) Uhh... after the party we went to clarks (this 24 hour diner place). I had lots o' fun being miss attention whore and performing for the cute girls. Yeay.
umm.... so it's 4:22 am. I have work at 8:30. am. I don't think I should go to sleep (because then I won't get up.) I'm not tired yet anyway. My roommate is having some conversation with a boy about orgasms and people going down on her. I accidently overheard... what can I say, it's quiet in here and the walls as thin as Christina Agularia's right thigh.
....
two poems I wrote two days ago:
...........................................................
Back into this inner personal bubble
of gawking at the social elite
those prancing around the lobby carefree
speaking loud, writing stories through action
worrying less than I on my blank minded days...
my stomach growls, hungry for a life I thought I'd find
somewhere in the world far away from home
distressed am I, the victim of an extended one night stand
fucked over
the victim of the blood red tide seeping in
covering the curves of two bare breasts
quivering in hopes of finally fitting in-
side everyone's the same, all wanting one
thing, just one thing, but my beige lace swatch of a soul
has been deprived from longing-
to the left of satisfaction I creep into my skin
feeling like a little girl, too stubborn to give in.
My heart beats heavy, stomach pulses at the speed of light.
All around people are people, humanity without distortion
they refuse to be afraid by speaking loud.
loving the moment.
smiling.
he somehow makes me happy, I think.
he somehow understnads
except he doesn't fear the world like I do.
And in his arms I feel all right.
It doesn't matter that all around
time is spinning into a fictional fairytale.
Call this all irrelevant babble if you must,
call it anything you want,
you watch us
lick the sides of tender warmth,
as I find the remnants of my sanity
lying under his sky blue.
.........................................................
This is how I feel.
I feel like
the smoke of a ciggarette
being extorted from the air,
an expensive ventilation system
sucking me away,
into the north pole's suicidal trend,
an overdose on ice
melting before twilight
gone by dawn,
sometimes even on a swollen afternoon
north of kisses
fallen onto bare palms
moist with acid tears
gliding internally like slush
weighting down contentment.
I drown.
The quicksand is stronger than the weak
my lungs fill with wild dust
a cough builds, nausea pursues
all invisable to you
because my eyes are closed
and you can't see me.
My eyes are closed,
I'm not here.
......................................................
Random impromtu because I feel like it (it's 5:03 am, so forgive me for making absolutely no sense)...
If i were to close my eyes and think of him by name
the skin as soft as that of a child untainted
would paint itself into view
I'd reach out and draw my fingers down his spine, following around the sharp corners of masculinity
to his chest where two tiny nipples symetrically balance the other, sweet and pink- one pierced, the other bare, delicious. My hands walk down the street to his stomach and sides, my lips follow soon thereafter.
When I think of him I think of skin
and the way the pieces of his face fit together
into a simple expression of adorable
His body is beautiful, not because he is a man,
but because he is a combination of a statue, man and child
evil in the most angelic way.
He is skin, soft, supple, vunerable, thin.
I see the the blueness of veins build through into lines of living.
Hips lined up perfectly, thighs and ass worthy of more than just a grab.
When I think of him, I touch the afterglow of a sun shower,
acid rain, delicate pain, two inside a sphere dangling
when I think of him he becomes a screenplay in my mind
a movie adaptation of drama and ectasy.
He is my pornography, my romance, my comedy and melodic bliss.
The tradgic flaws held at standstill
whimpering in each sudden breathtaking kiss.
...........................................................
That's all fer this morning folks.
zzz.
The party was definitely an experience... (omg I don't want to be like that when I'm older!) Uhh... after the party we went to clarks (this 24 hour diner place). I had lots o' fun being miss attention whore and performing for the cute girls. Yeay.
umm.... so it's 4:22 am. I have work at 8:30. am. I don't think I should go to sleep (because then I won't get up.) I'm not tired yet anyway. My roommate is having some conversation with a boy about orgasms and people going down on her. I accidently overheard... what can I say, it's quiet in here and the walls as thin as Christina Agularia's right thigh.
....
two poems I wrote two days ago:
...........................................................
Back into this inner personal bubble
of gawking at the social elite
those prancing around the lobby carefree
speaking loud, writing stories through action
worrying less than I on my blank minded days...
my stomach growls, hungry for a life I thought I'd find
somewhere in the world far away from home
distressed am I, the victim of an extended one night stand
fucked over
the victim of the blood red tide seeping in
covering the curves of two bare breasts
quivering in hopes of finally fitting in-
side everyone's the same, all wanting one
thing, just one thing, but my beige lace swatch of a soul
has been deprived from longing-
to the left of satisfaction I creep into my skin
feeling like a little girl, too stubborn to give in.
My heart beats heavy, stomach pulses at the speed of light.
All around people are people, humanity without distortion
they refuse to be afraid by speaking loud.
loving the moment.
smiling.
he somehow makes me happy, I think.
he somehow understnads
except he doesn't fear the world like I do.
And in his arms I feel all right.
It doesn't matter that all around
time is spinning into a fictional fairytale.
Call this all irrelevant babble if you must,
call it anything you want,
you watch us
lick the sides of tender warmth,
as I find the remnants of my sanity
lying under his sky blue.
.........................................................
This is how I feel.
I feel like
the smoke of a ciggarette
being extorted from the air,
an expensive ventilation system
sucking me away,
into the north pole's suicidal trend,
an overdose on ice
melting before twilight
gone by dawn,
sometimes even on a swollen afternoon
north of kisses
fallen onto bare palms
moist with acid tears
gliding internally like slush
weighting down contentment.
I drown.
The quicksand is stronger than the weak
my lungs fill with wild dust
a cough builds, nausea pursues
all invisable to you
because my eyes are closed
and you can't see me.
My eyes are closed,
I'm not here.
......................................................
Random impromtu because I feel like it (it's 5:03 am, so forgive me for making absolutely no sense)...
If i were to close my eyes and think of him by name
the skin as soft as that of a child untainted
would paint itself into view
I'd reach out and draw my fingers down his spine, following around the sharp corners of masculinity
to his chest where two tiny nipples symetrically balance the other, sweet and pink- one pierced, the other bare, delicious. My hands walk down the street to his stomach and sides, my lips follow soon thereafter.
When I think of him I think of skin
and the way the pieces of his face fit together
into a simple expression of adorable
His body is beautiful, not because he is a man,
but because he is a combination of a statue, man and child
evil in the most angelic way.
He is skin, soft, supple, vunerable, thin.
I see the the blueness of veins build through into lines of living.
Hips lined up perfectly, thighs and ass worthy of more than just a grab.
When I think of him, I touch the afterglow of a sun shower,
acid rain, delicate pain, two inside a sphere dangling
when I think of him he becomes a screenplay in my mind
a movie adaptation of drama and ectasy.
He is my pornography, my romance, my comedy and melodic bliss.
The tradgic flaws held at standstill
whimpering in each sudden breathtaking kiss.
...........................................................
That's all fer this morning folks.
zzz.
VIEW 11 of 11 COMMENTS
Your description of that party is pretty funny. You wouldn't think that older lesbians can behave like overaged frat boys, but yes they can! (I always find that to be a hoot, but then again they're not asking ME to flash them.)