Posts tagged ‘Freewriting’

November 9, 2010

Are you a good friend to yourself?

If you had a friend that spoke to you in the same way you sometimes speak to yourself, how long would you allow that person to be your friend.

When I saw this question, I immediately thought of how hard I can be on myself at times.  The things I repeat over and over in my head to myself.  How I always seem to focus on my shortcomings, my failures, my flaws and my mistakes.

I tried to imagine a friend speaking to me, berating me, bashing me and verbally abusing me… just as I do to myself.  I also imagined me punching that person in the mouth.  Why would I subject myself to such abuse FROM MYSELF?

I started to really explore how damaging my thoughts really are.  I wondered about all of things I have talked myself out of…the different ways I have held myself back.  Why do I spend so much time acknowledging my’ have-nots’ instead of celebrating my ‘haves’ … why do I always put the spotlight on my failures instead of celebrating my successes and daily accomplishments? 

I am going to sign an emotional contract with myself. 

I promise to only uplift myself.

I promise to only inspire and encourage myself.

I promise to celebrate myself daily…

My survival…

My courageous spirit…

My heart…

My successes…no matter how small…

I promise to LOVE myself better…

In my previous post… I wrote about treating others as you wish to be treated…

It just hit me…

I have to treat MYSELF the way I wish to be treated…

Because ultimately…

Who will treat me any better than I treat myself?

August 18, 2009

the person you once knew.

I’m coming home to you
As the person you once knew
Things have happened
Changed us
You and me
But I still feel you
In the tender spots
That still resemble us
I wonder if you see my fight
The endless struggle
The uphill battle
That has kept me from you
The person you once knew
Almost unrecognizable
But I still feel you
In the places where you originated
In the places that make my smile pure
And my laughter real
I’m coming home to you
As the me you once knew
This walk home has been the longest
But I imagine you there waiting for me
The person you once knew
As I walk up the stairs
My insides feel tight
I can feel the closeness of you
Just moments of way
From standing before you
The person you once knew
I knock on the door
And hold my head down
Feeling the shame of being gone for so long
I can see the knob turning
And the door open slow…
I pick my head up to see your face…
My face…
The person I once was
Meeting the person you once knew
You take me in your arms
And instantly
The other me evaporates
And all that’s left of me
Is you
The person you once knew.
June 3, 2009

feeling the need…

to ramble and release.  feeling overwhelmed and lonely.  feeling lost and frazzled.  from conception it feels as though i have been “dealing” with something or other.  never at peace.  as a child it was dealing with my father beating my mother.  with his alcoholism.  with his drug abuse. with his lies and promises. and finally his death. with us being broke. being evicted. with knowing too much when i was too little to “deal.”  with my mothers depression. and coldness. with my own.  my abusive boyfriend. being a parent at 14. and then again at 15. his mental and physical abuse for 12yrs. the financial struggles of being a teen parent. now the financial trouble of being a parent to teens. with no support from the dead beat.  my son leaving me to live with his dad. getting him back.  dealing with his behavioral and academic issues.  just add it up. dont forget the bills. the dogs. the job. the fibromyalgia. toxic relationships. the fake smile to greet those who arent TRULY concerned with my reality.  Fine..I’m just fine i say.   i’m not fine.  im cracking. im losing. i am forgetting to breathe. to pray. to count my blessings. thank you almighty for my job. for shelter. for clothing. for food. for the ability to provide. for my sanity. for my strength. for your strength. for the energy to cope.  for my mother.  hard to look to the sky when you’re watching your every step…trying not to fall.  trying to keep focused on the road. need to be prepared for the upcoming stress.  there arent warning signs that read: WARNING: Stress 5 miles ahead.  My thoughts are like bumper-to-bumper-traffic…never ending.  my head feels full. and my heart feels heavy.

a hand rests on my shoulder…

reminding me to…




May 12, 2009

Daddy’s Girl – Parts 1&2

The room was dark except for a single purple bulb that gave the room a mysterious glow. Bruised black leather sofas lined the blood red walls. Electric tape used as makeshift patches for rips and tears. The floor was a mix of mitch-match tiles. There were no windows, just a single door painted black. Strange mechanisms hung from the ceiling and walls. I tried not to contemplate what they were. I felt uncomfortable in what I was wearing.  She told me what she wanted me to see me in and warned there would be consequences if I did not comply. She gave me $60 and told me to be a good girl and get something she would like, and to get my pussy waxed. I was instructed to wait for her in the room. She inculcated that I was not to leave the room for any reason, or again, there would be consequences. So I sat there on the edge of the sofa closest to the door in my braless and crotchless ensemble nervously fiddling with the key to my locker. I was told to stand and wait for her. I stood for the first half hour, but my feet began to ache and I made the decision to sit for a bit risking the punishment. She didn’t want me to wear anything less than four inch stilettos. She said nasty girls liked to get fucked wearing heels, and that I was going to be her nasty girl. I knew I would be penalized if my attire did not meet her requirements. It had been over forty-five minutes and I wondered if I should open the door and investigate. I decided not to as I recalled her instructions not to open the door under any circumstances. I was massaging my feet when I heard footsteps approaching. I fumbled with my shoes and attempted to get them back on so she would find me standing obediently as per her instruction. I was only able to get one on.  The door opened as I was shoving my foot into the other. I stood up quickly as she entered. Unsure of where to put my hands, I clasped them behind my back. I looked to the floor. She demanded my attention. I forced myself to look directly into her eyes and hold my gaze. Her locs were pulled back. She was dressed simply in black combat boots, black jeans and a white tank revealing her masculine tatted arms. She grabbed me by my upper arm and pulled me over to one of the other sofas. Her grip was firm and forceful. She sat and positioned me in front of her. She inspected the garment, felt the firmness of my exposed breast and asked, “Is this the best you could find?”

“I’m sorry, I thought you would like it,” I replied.

“Tell me, why you were sitting?”

“My feet started to hurt so I –”

“Didn’t I tell you there would be consequences for non compliance,” she interrupted.

“Yes.” My stomach began to feel unsettled. She pulled me down to my knees and placed me over her lap. It happened so fast. I was surprised and strangely turned on by my position and her aggressiveness.   She rubbed my bare bottom and I fought the urge to cock my ass up.  I could feel the bulge in her pants pressing into my stomach.  My juices quickly began to seep from my pussy.


I flinched each time she hit me.  I squirmed in agony, but with the strength in one arm she kept my body in check.  I cried out, “Please stop, no more!”   I felt the tears escape  my clenched eyes.  After what seemed like an eternity, she paused.  She rubbed my sore cheeks, running her fingers over the raised fleshy outlines of her hand.  She eased her way to my pussy and slipped her fingers between my lips, releasing a pool of my juices.  I whimpered as her fingers grazed my clit.  She withdrew her hand and told me to stand.  I rose in front of her.  My mascara had bled onto my cheeks and my inner things glistened from the trickling juices.

“Look at you,” she said.  “You’re a mess.”

“I’m sorry,” I said pushing my disheveled hair away from my face.

“Do you see what happens when you don’t listen to daddy?”

“Yes,” I answered, sniffling and still nervously fixing my hair.

“Yes who?”

“Yes daddy.”

“Good girl.”

She took me by the hand and led me to the center of the room.  She ventured into a dark corner and reappeared with a chair which she placed behind me.  “Sit,” she ordered.  I obliged.  She walked across the room and faced me.  Her hands sunk deep into her pockets.  Her eyes were luminous.  Her square shoulders and toned physique exuded masculinity.  Her cocoa skin and almond eyes made her seem as edible as a candy bar.  Her forbidding eyes seared into me.  My heartbeat fastened as our scorching gaze intensified.  “Spread your legs.”  I hesitated for a moment but quickly parted them.  Again, unsure of where to put my hands I rested them on the seat between my legs.  “Move your hands so I can see your pussy,” she said in a soft but firm tone, her voice like velvet.  I rested my hands on my thighs.  “Good girl,” she said pleased with my obedience.  “Touch yourself,” she demanded.  My hands began to tremble.  My pussy felt open and eager to be caressed. I slid my hand to my throbbing center.  My fingers circled my clit and became immersed in my nectar.  She licked her lips and I imagined the warmth of her tongue replacing my fingers.  I could feel her energy from across the room.  I slid my ass to the edge of the seat.  Our eyes still locked, I rocked my waist as my fingers moved swiftly causing my clit to become swollen with pleasure.  I bit my lip and closed my eyes as I felt the warmth within me begin to surface.  She ordered me to keep my eyes fixed on her.  My waist began to move erratically, almost involuntarily.  My fingers still massaged my clit vigorously.  I let my head fall back in surrender.  “Stop,” she said abruptly.  My face flushed with anger.  I looked at her in confusion as she made her way over to me.  She reached into her pocket and revealed a blindfold which she placed over my eyes.  I felt her leave my side, then heard the distinct sound of metal clanking.  A lump formed in my throat and my stomach contracted to a tight ball…

May 11, 2009


at my desk.  thinking of you.  wanting to find out.  those things you do. my legs crossed. and squeezing tight. attempting to forget.  with all my might. i feel myself moisten.  as i read your words. i rock my waist just a lil. mmm maybe just a lil more. you wont stop. i dont want you to. keep going. i need to cum. right here at my desk. can they see what im doing. is it bad that i dont care.  i know i cant have you.  and its driving me crazy.  i wonder if you know.  just how tempting you are.  i wonder if you could imagine.  me here at my desk.  rocking my waist. pressing my clit down.  thinkin you should be behind me.  me over my desk. face down. ass up.  telling me how bad i’ve been.  me calling your name. telling you to. do what you like. or i can drop to my knees. beg you. to use my face as you please. lay me on the bed. my hands tied above my head. cover my eyes. take my panties. and gag my mouth. watch me squirm. as you tease my body. damn im so tempted to take it there.  but i know i cant have you.  right now.

May 9, 2009

for @djbluelight

my reality

just doesnt seem fair

look to my right

and my left

aint no woman there

to help guide me through

each passing day


knows just what to say

and understsands

just what i need

a beautiful pair

of watchful eyes

to make sure

 i dont burn

my curly fries


May 8, 2009



i thought too much

and you said too little

not even sure

what the fuck you’re thinking

what is this we’ve created

this undefined

pool of nothingness

empty words

and false embraces

tilted smiles

and dead end chases

leading us back to where we are

where we never belonged

May 7, 2009

I have since…

forgotten the feeling of exploring hands.  yearning to learn my body.  fingertips gliding up my thighs causing shrills of anticipation to resonate at the base of my spine.  the weakening tingles creeping to my core.  the warmth between my legs.  the breathy pleas for mercy.  hands grabbing for something, anything that will enable me to withstand the torture.  opening wide.  giving you room to play.  your tongue freedom to roam. your fingers the invitation to enter.  the ecstasy.  the trickling juices that you wont allow to hit the sheets.  your face delving deeper as my hips thrust forward.  the warmth that ignites in my stomach as my clit dances to the beat of your tongue.  the implosion that causes the warmth to gush from within me.  as you continue the rhythmic pulsating movements that require skill.  i try, but i can’t stop myself and my body begins to tremble as the volcanic hot juices escape from within me.  you suckle and nurse on my clit.  i am bucking, but you are clung to me like a pro bull rider.  i explode and bury your face between my thighs.  I release into you.  and you take me in.  i let out the unmistakable cries of orgasmic pleasure.  you slow your pace as  my body limps in exhaustion.  you look at me pleased with the result of your efforts.  literally drained.  you lick your lips as i trace them with my thumb…

where are you…

i need to remember…

April 25, 2009

Napowrimo #9

Mi Paraiso
I have not yet experienced
I can only speak of
What it is not
Crowded trains
With grimaced faces
Heavy tense shoulders
Carrying something
Or the other
Blank eyes
Dreaming of better times
When there were no
Red striped envelopes
Demanding payment
Funds that do not exist
Sky high rents
Minimum wages
Robotic movement
Like worker bees
Going somewhere
To do something
That needs to be done
The palpable stress
And anxiety
Like a ticking bomb
Waiting to implode
The tormenting
What if’s
And how’s
The menacing
I cant’s
The false promises
To self
And looming failure
Waiting patiently
To be acknowledged
This is not mi paraiso
Nor are the crystal blue waters
Or black sand beaches
Mi Paraiso is
A light heart
And a peaceful mind
And the ability to
Go to “Paradise”
If I want to

April 20, 2009

Napowrimo #8

List all of your old flames. Try to go back as far as your first kiss in the 2nd grade coat closet. Sit with your list. Depending on your mood today, choose the flame with the most sparks, or pin the list on the wall and throw a dart. Whatever your method or mood, write a poem about an old flame.

You were my flame
There used to be fire
You don’t touch me anymore
But it doesn’t matter much
Because I can’t feel you
I wonder
If it’s even worth
Lighting the fuse
To ignite a spark
In hopes of a flame
That might heat things up
And start that fire
That once raged
Between us