Black book

from TheFeatheredSleep

hijacked amygdala

Apparently

men can gather bed notches and

this elevates them socially

whilst women of the same history

are sluts plain and simple

therefore

I am a whore

not because you tell me so

or for any notches or black books

but for the raspy feather in my chest

when it tickles

I gather up my fancy

and I imagine

all the rides I’ve taken

which is as far as I go today

given my propensity for not coming back

but there was a time

I let four boys into my room

not all at once or even

in the same afternoon

they were as different as

the rules for men and women

one I found ugly and angular

his penis was a sharp hungry thing

that burned the desire out of me

another was vain and glorious

a cheshire cat apt to lap his own cream

his was large and…

View original post 349 more words

The Sleeping Poet

from Hugh’s Views & News

Hugh's Views & News  

This is an incredible piece of writing from blogger Robert M. Goldstein. Rob shares a real-life story of not only how his life was changed, but how his lost past caught up with him and reunited him with items he thought were long misplaced. Click on the ‘The Sleeping Poet’ link to read the post.

via The Sleeping Poet

#WordPress #PressThis #Blogging #writing Image Credit: Pixabay

Thanks for sharing this story with us, Rob.

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View original post

Who Does He Think She is?

When we log into Virtual Reality usually one aspect is present.

Everything we do and say reflects a single menu of interests and attitudes.

The person called “I” can imagine being almost anything.

So virtual reality is not an escape; it’s a becoming, and our primary tools for becoming are the animations and objects we make or buy in the moment.

We shoot most of our photos in a dark surreal nowhere.

That is how life feels to us.

Sara is the oldest alternate.

She used to come out when the body was little and dress in Mother’s gowns.

Sara used to wear Daddy’s tee shirts and pretend they were a nightie.

Mother used to send us out on Halloween dressed like a little girl.

Sara liked it when the neighbors told her how pretty she was and Mother liked when Sara came out because Mother wanted a little girl.

Sara had to go inside when we started school and became a boy.

She often feels lonely.

Digital Portrait of a female avatar in a fur coat
Portrait of Sara

When Mother hurt us, Sara came out, dressed up, and danced
for us.

Sara is nice.

She likes people.

But Sara is a protector.

She’s a smart street kid from the Deep South with her nails out.

She’s a fighter but she’s fair.

I guess we made Sara from what we liked best about the girls
and sissy boys we grew up with in Charleston.

Sara likes torch songs from the 1950’s and 60’s.

She especially likes Julie London:

First posted in 2016.

(c) Rob Goldstein  2016-2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

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