Proud Appalachian. English major. Feminist. Artist. Writer. Body positive. Anime enthusiast. Cultural embracer. Music junkie. Binge watcher and eater.
Within certain connotations
I believe I would be obliged
to tell you I love you, but
the fine print is extra fine
and my glasses need cleaned,
or I need better ones, or…
maybe I’m going blind because
the words are shrinking,
disappearing altogether, along
with the tethered definitions that
evoke emotions neither of us
want to feel. Within certain
connotations, I believe I am
obliged to cancel this contract.
1. You begin caring less of others opinions. (Example: Someone calls you a self centered, conniving bitch and it doesn’t phase you a bit.)
2. When others are vocal of their purposely hurtful opinions, you become vocal yourself because you’re aware you deserve better. In other words, confrontation is no longer an issue.
3. You learn that realizing you have worth doesn’t mean you are degrading anyone else’s. (I’m not better than you, nor are you better than me. So the whole “out of my league” thing is completely abolished.)
4. You grow up. A lot. This means when conflict arises you aren’t being illogical or hurtful. It means you can & will sit down and talk about an issue logically.
5. Your standards rise & you demand that they be met.
6. Other people might begin liking you less. These aren’t the people that matter anyways. These are the people that enjoyed seeing you misersble, sad and hurt. These people try to pull you back down. These people don’t love you. These people don’t even love themselves. Love them from a distance.
1. I have not diluted myself into believing that the qualities I desire in a man include wealth, a hot body, or a nice car. When I say I appreciate a guy with a sense of humor and a nice job - I mean just that. I appreciate people for their uniqueness & their odd ensemble of qualities that make them who they are as a person.
2. There isn’t a step by step way that will perfectly lead me or anyone into your bed.
3. Some women find persistence an unattractive quality. When she’s giving you hints to leave her alone, you probably should.
4. Just because a small percentage of literotica includes rape and other “freaky” shit does not mean women want a man to be in control. I think I can speak for many women when I say I would like to have a sexual relationship with a man whom I trust enough to indulge in personal fantasies with. This fantasy has the possibility of including me shoving a dildo up your ass.
5. I don’t fuck on the first date because I’m not completely comfortable with you- not because I don’t want to seem like a “slut”.
6. I would considerably lose interest in a man if he will blew through $600 within three dates just to impress me.
7. I think the creator of this program is a misogynistic asshole that has diluted himself into thinking he’s developed a scientific method to being a more dominant gender.
8. I’m most likely not going to approach a man first unless he’s dying, has a cute dog, has a cute animal in general, looks like he needs help, or is selling food of some kind. Believe it or not but females can be introverts too, which means approaching another person is less likely to happen.
9. Despite whatever genetic code that you’re trying to exploit (which I doubt exists to the extent you’re taking it) within the female gender, I would like to make a statement that you’re privileged white man syndrome seriously needs some treatment.
10. I watched the entire 40 minutes of this video. This “system” is clearly targeting men of older generations and/or men who have social anxiety/depression/self esteem issues. Degrading women to cater to these personality types as a marketing/get rich quick technique is quite pathetic.
11. The only reason I watched the entire video is because I was so desperately hoping you’d reveal your methods on getting women would include treating them respectfully and equally.
You are the salty sweat
seeping from opening pores,
stuck on my skin, savoring
moments of the stench that
turns my stomach upside
down, stopping digestion,
of stale sentences that
will soon succumb to the
taste of goodbye, but
you will always, always
be under my skin.
I peel my lips
with discrete teeth
the way you unravel
lives, quickly and quietly,
but there’s always
someone who sees,
a witness, a soon-to-be
prophetess of my bad
habits and your bad
everything, but that
doesn’t stop me from
gnawing on my lips, nor
you and your mischief.
My mornings consist of side swept
smiles, lips tucked in between teeth
and sleepy eyes eager to gaze upon
the screen of my phone to read your one,
two, or three texts saying, “Good morning…
Hey lady… Hey.” They’re simple words, but
I give them more meaning. Good morning,
I’m awake and I hope you are too. Text me.
Hey lady, you really need to wake up
already because I miss you. Hey,
I’m scared that you don’t miss me too.
My evenings consist of frantic fingers
afraid of saying the right thing
at the wrong time or the wrong thing
at the right time, so they make remarks
that can be translated in multiple ways…
Similar to your simple texts. I begin to
wonder if maybe what I make of your words
are just that - what I make of them. What if,
I’m giving you more depth than what you’ve
truly achieved on your own? What if,
I lose you when you’re only one message away?
What if I lose you?
My dreams consist of surreal stories,
late night fast food adventures, and
laughter, your laughter. I dream of you
and food. That has to be a good sign.
My mornings consist of side swept smiles
that are quickly tucked away in between teeth,
and it won’t be long before my sleepy eyes
read a simple text that says “Morning,”
and I can’t help but to feel like you mean so much more.
This Halloween I might try dressing up as a cat & hand out tacos to the trick-or-treaters in hope that James Deen might possibly show up on my doorstep.
I’m beginning to hate you.
I’m becoming less apologetic.
I’m not really sure if that’s the right word.
I’m still not good with my words.
I’m exploring my sexuality and it’s amazing.
I’m not letting you stop me, anymore.
I’m in control.
I’m not so happy on other days.
I’m dreaming again.
I’m writing again.
I’m spitefully wishing you’re reading this.
I’m confused about life.
I’m afraid I don’t know how to love.
I’m disappointed with myself.
I’m trying to be honest.
I’m trying to be normal.
I’m not very good at being normal.
I’m scared to meet new people.
I’m meeting new people.
I’m not letting fear shape me.
I’m… I’m a lot of thing.
Spine curved, rounded
like the moon’s smooth, gray edges,
Thin, white whiskers
drape over his cotton pelt
like tree branches.
I’ve never tried
to look at a rabbit through
a poet’s eyes.