Creep Tonight.

I want to be your dominated love slave,
I want to be the one that takes the pain.
You can spank me when I do not behave
Mack me in the forehead with a chain.

Cause I love feelin' dirty,
And I love feelin' cheap,
And I love it when you hurt me,
So drive them staples deep.

In Retrospect.

The infinite possibilities each day holds should stagger the mind. The sheer number of experiences I could have is uncountable, breathtaking, and I'm sitting here refreshing my inbox. We live trapped in loops, reliving a few days over and over, and we envision only a handful of paths laid out before us. We see the same things every day, we respond the same way, we think the same thoughts, each day a slight variation on the last, every moment smoothly following the gentle curves of societal norms. We act like if we just get through today, tomorrow our dreams will come back to us. And no, I don't have all the answers. I don't know how to jolt myself into seeing what each moment could become. But I do know one thing: the solution doesn't involve watering down my every little idea and creative impulse for the sake of some day easing my fit into a mold. It doesn't involve tempering my life to better fit someone's expectations. It doesn't involve constantly holding back for fear of shaking things up. This is very important, so I want to say it as clearly as I can:
FUCK.
THAT.
SHIT.

Memory.

i remember a postcard.. a picture of venice, a man on a gondola playing to a couple, and in the other side a word written with lipstick,

"Memory". And that is all that i had of him.. I did'nt know what i was searching for, maybe of a love long lost, of an acquantaince i had forgotten,of an enemy i had forgiven.. But i knew i had to find her.. I hitched a ride from Texas to Philly.. The dRiver was polite, he called me Sir and offered to drive me witout any charge at all.. I had a fleeting glimpse of her on the highway, i can't remember her features, too blurred. I sat down in a coffee shop in louisianaville, there was a kid sitting there who reminded me of my own youth.. Of my wasted years, spent on booze and drugs..I told him to cherish the time he had and not waste it, he told me to Fuck Off. It has been weeks, or rather months since I have been out on the road looking for her.. I do not khow anymore of what i hope to achieve. It is her memory that drives me, to never stop for a moment of respite. I must journey on.. That postcard, the perfect love that the couple shared, the word on the reverse.. That is all i had to keep me going. That is all i was in love with. I was driving down Missisipi on a truck, with a genmtleman who wanted to sleep with me, though i rebuked his advances. I was looking for Her, though by now i had lost any idea of who she really was, i was in love with the idea of who she could be, for me. I sat down at a gas station for cheap fries and a cup of stale coffee, the waiter decided to overlook my cheap clothes and gave me enough respect, he calle me Ma'am and asked me if I was going somewhere particular, he could give me a ride. But by then i had lost all hope of meeting him. his vision all but a mirage of a future that i hoped to attain but never could.. Maybe that was all life had to offer, a fleeting glimpse of the ideal. My love, why do you shirk away from me, why lurk in the corners? In the hope of achieving the unattainable I lose out on all that life offers. But i am not sad, nor disillusioned. I am still driven by the thirst of being one with her. She would make me complete. As I ride out of a Cafe in Illinois, i see a postcard flutter lazily by me, i catch it in my hands,, It is a postcard of a couple serenely riding in a gondola.. It brings back a distant memory in my mind but i can't quite grasp it. I take out my lipstick and scrawl a single word on the reverse side, "Memory"..

A Tale Untold

Now Crownsville was a little town, a picture-postcard place

The sort of town where life flows by at a much slower pace

Its citizens were happy folk - they seldom wore a frown

That is, until the fateful day the dragon came to town

He was a massive, ancient wyrm - nine yards from tip to tail

He soared in from the East on windmill wings of red-gold scale

And down upon the town he swooped, blowing fire from his nose

To light in Crownsville's baseball field, for an afternoon's repose

It happened they were playing ball that dark and fateful day

The score stood two to four with but an inning left to play

So when the wyrm descended, and the pitcher he did maim

A pallor wreathed the features of the patrons of the game

A terror-stricken few got up to flee, but most held fast

For Crownsville's nine were up to bat, and there seemed a chance at last

That with their opponent's pitcher being torn apart and et

There was just the slightest hope that Mudville might win this game yet

So above the pitcher's dying screams, the umpire howled "Play ball!"

The dragon munched on noisily as the opponent's fans, appalled,

Protested in the age-old way: "Kill the umpire!" they cried.

The dragon, taking note of this, obliged, and the umpire died.

Before this day the great wyrm had not followed baseball much

He'd never fathomed men's intrigue for bats and balls and such

But now at last he understood! It was just his kind of game!

So Crownsville's Cooney died at second, and the baseman did the same

Ten thousand fans, up in the stands, clutched their hearts in dread

As the laughing dragon swept the field and on the players fed

Then from out the Crownsville dugout surged the lineup, armed for war

The dragon whirled to face them, his talons dripping gore

"Ten to one on the dragon!" from the bookies came a shout

Hundreds rushed to place their money. In their hearts there was no doubt

That despite the dragon's fearsome skill at knocking players flat,

The fight would be no contest - with Casey at the bat.

But Flynn preceeded Casey, and likewise so did Blake

Of the first, the wyrm made pudding, of the second Shake-N-Bake

So that on the stricken multitude a deathlike silence sat

As the dragon, calmly waiting, picked his teeth with a broken bat

Then from the gladdened multitude went up a joyous yell-

-It rumbled from the mountaintops, it rattled in the dell;

It echoed in the dragon's ears and filled its heart with hate,

For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the plate.

There was ease in Casey's manner and a gleam in Casey's eye

Though the dragon loomed before him, blowing smoke, prepared to fry

And when responding to the cheers bold Casey doffed his cap

No stranger in the crowd could doubt he'd beat that wyrm to crap.

Ten thousand eyes watched Casey as, taking off his shirt,

He warned the dragon "Son, you'll soon be in a world of hurt!"

He flexed his mighty muscles, as the crowd hurrahed his quip.

Defiance glazed the dragon's eye, a sneer caressed its lip.

The dragon leaped into the air, soaring high above its foe

Disdainfully it contemplated Casey, far below

With nonchalance it tipped a wing and dived down from the sun

It screamed down, missed, and augered in. Casey said "Strike one."

The dragon from its haunches sprang, came hurtling through the air

Its nostrils spitting fire, its talons poised to tear

Casey yawned, and made a sidestep - into the stands the monster flew

With a crash it wrecked the bleachers, and Casey said "Strike two."

A hush fell o'er the waiting crowd. They knew the end was near.

As the groggy dragon staggered, Casey kicked it in the rear.

The dragon yelped and limped away, then feebly turned, in pain

For one last shot at Casey, who stood watching with disdain.

The sneer has left the dragon's lip, its teeth are sharded stumps

Its wings are broken. It can't fly, no matter how it pumps.

And now it swings its battered head, coming at Casey low

And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land, the sun is shining bright

The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light

And somewhere men are laughing, and children showing grins.

But there is no joy in Crownsville : Sometimes the dragon wins.