the life and musings of a kinky slut

1.18.17 In Another Universe 2

Live from Washington D.C., I’m Poetic Desires.

President-elect Clinton and her aids continue to lay out their agenda plans for their incoming administration’s first 100 days. Commerce Secretary Elizabeth Warren, in a press conference following the Senate’s vote to confirm their former colleague, announced plans to greatly expand the United States’ use of solar energy. Using the tagline “All 50 in 10”, Secretary Warren briefly explained a proposal to equip every roof in the US with solar panels within the next ten years. The push was billed as both a jobs program to aid in manufacturing losses and a clean energy crusade to pull the country further away from fossil fuels. Objections from the coal and natural gas industries have been swift, with Rex Tillerson, CEO of Exxon Mobile, calling the plan “pie-in-the-sky politics.”

Two more key hearings for Mrs. Clinton’s cabinet have been set. Attorney General nominee, Senator Amy Klobuchar, and HUD nominee, Senator Cory Booker, are due to face their colleagues on Monday. With the now even split of the Senate, and soon-to-be Vice President Kaine as the deciding vote, both are expected to be confirmed, though grilling in their respective sessions is still likely.

Current President Obama has announced his plan for a thank you tour to start in the summer of this year. The outgoing president, in an exclusive interview with BBC News, communicated his heartfelt gratitude for his time in office and his wish to continue working towards a more perfect union even as he fades back into a simpler life. Mr. Obama floated ideas for his next four years as a citizen, including possibly teaching or writing a book. As the “Reader-in-Chief”, Mr. Obama was lauded for his patronage of local D.C. bookstores.

This is NPR news.

~ if only ~

1.17.17 In Another Universe

“Live from Washington, D.C., I’m Poetic Desires.

President-elect Clinton continues to urge the Senate to accelerate the pace of cabinet confirmation hearings. Her Secretary of State nominee, current Vice President Joe Biden, is set to appear on Thursday, the day before Mrs. Clinton’s inauguration. The new President’s national security team has had their sessions, but Majority Leader Mitch McConnell has been slow to schedule any other hearings citing the need to complete all background checks and financial disclosures. If confirmed, Mrs. Clinton’s cabinet will be the first to have an equal number of men and women, and it will have the most non-white secretaries in US history.

Meanwhile, in stark contrast, the Senate, also on Thursday, will vote to confirm Merrick Garland to the Supreme Court. President Obama’s pick, who was initially put forward in March of 2016, has waited the longest of any other Supreme Court nominee, besting the older record by more than double. Rumors of Mrs. Clinton possible naming of soon-to-be former President Obama to the position is believed to have spurred the chamber into action, an allegation the Majority Leader continues to evade.

While Mrs. Clinton’s cabinet takes shape, her advisors have taken to newsprint and social media to begin laying out her initial legislative goals for her first 100 days. Today Huma Abedin, Mrs. Clinton’s Chief of Staff, gave an exclusive interview to Al Jazeera America to announce the administration’s proposals for a new National Volunteer Core and plans to push legislation for universal national daycare and Pre-K. Ms. Abedin insisted the efforts would enrich communities by solving much needed maintenance efforts, creating jobs, and relieving some of the burdens of working families. However, the interview and its topics have already sparked controversy among right wing media. Allegations in popular white nationalist and conservative Christian websites are fomenting conspiracy theories that Mrs. Clinton is attempting to push secular values on religious communities and wants to establish a culture wars army, all of which the President-elect denies.

In other news, Mrs. Clinton’s former opponent is wading through yet more legal trouble. Former Republican nominee Donald Trump now faces lawsuits from over twenty women alleging he sexually assaulted them. Notable accusers include former contestants of his reality shows and beauty pageants. The erstwhile billionaire has denied every charge, but continues to vacation with his wife and youngest son in Argentina, notably a country with strained diplomatic ties with the United States.

This is NPR News.”

~ if only ~

1.16.17 Conflicted

Pay rent or symbolically protest?
Speak the truth, and possibly lose work, or stay quiet and keep your job?

I cried today during my gig. Only for a little bit. Only for a moment.
Lyrics to “One Last Time” from Hamilton came to mind:
“Teach them how to say goodbye.”
I know it’s been eight years, but it’s still too soon.

What are we going to say to our children when they ask about this time?
How will history recall this election and the soon-to-be presidency?

I am slammed with work, exhausted, sleep deprived, and achy.
My feet throb every day as I trudge through 8, 10, 12 hours of physical labor.
I have to setup for parties for people I abhor.
But I’ll be able to pay my bills this month free of the fear of my credit score dropping again.

I know my goals, know I’m working towards them.
Just a little bit farther. Just a little bit longer. A few more things left to do.
My path is a crooked twisting road; today it was dark and foreboding.


1.15.17 My Fantasy Man

~ who I see when I’m cuming ~

I dreamed you up one day
to soothe my aching heart.
You are the man
who loves me,
charms me,
tames me,
and trains me.
You are the man
I want and need most.

I call you Daddy because
that’s what I want.
Protector, by my side,
though currently only in my mind.
Lover, the best I’ve ever had;
you know what I want
when I want it
even when I dare not admit it.

I imagine you most often
as the classic gay male leather Daddy.
You have their confidence,
their swagger,
yet you want me.
Lately, though, you’ve been in more dapper attire:
vest, pressed pants,
shined shoes, and a pocket watch.
The butler to my young mistress.

No matter how I envision you,
one thing stays the same.
The look in your eye:
knowing my secrets,
plotting devilish deeds,
caring for my needs,
craving me so,
but a hint of terror coloring all.

What will you dream up for me next?

1.14.17 The Wannabe Busker

~ thoughts from a character ~

How many big stories can you tell? I’ve got lots. Comes from growing up the way I did, with the people I did, and living the life I do. I’m a special fucking snowflake.

Most of my stories are full of shit. They’re real, but consist mostly of all the craptastic ways life can throw a curve ball into your face. I’ve learned to duck real fast.

Most of those wild pitches have been people. It’s hard to really know a person, even if they’ve been in your life for years. Worse still is trying to predict how they’ll act on drugs, or when their devastated or threatened. Huge emotional swings, whether natural or chemically induced, make for tales banked for special occasions.

I sometimes wonder if I could live just off telling all my stories. Write a book, maybe. Or scratch out a sign on some cardboard. “Pay me $5 and I’ll tell you a tale that’ll blow your mind. And, it’s true.” It’s hard to pirate a whispered experience, but I’m sure someone’ll figure out how to soon.

I’m just glad I haven’t inflicted my luck or DNA on anyone yet. Lord knows, no kid deserves the family I’ve endured or the life I’ve muddled through. I like the idea of one of those pretty families, full of smiles and hugs and no debt. Their clean and fake and safe. But, until I start trusting people, I’ll stick to my dive bars, park benches, and quiet library corners.

Stop by some time, and I’ll tell you a doozy.

1.13.17 Loss Of Control

~ a nightmare from my fucked up subconscious ~

[trigger warning for a depiction of kidnapping and rape]

I woke up cold, in a cave, wet, with sand on my extremities and my face. I wore a ripped long nightshirt and nothing else. I was dazed, disoriented, and confused.

My hands were cuffed and attached to a cable that was bolted to the wall. I guessed it was late afternoon from the bit of Sun seeping in. Waves brought water in up to my feet. It was the chill from what I guessed was the ocean that woke me up.

I tried pulling at the cable, but it would not budge from the rock. I couldn’t grind the cable loose with my teeth; it was made of metal, and the effort would only harm me. I panicked for a moment, fear rising.

And then they came in.

I didn’t know who had taken me, didn’t know how I’d gotten to this place. But as they filed in one-by-one, I began to remember the party, the booze, and the people I had trusted.

To my left was water and sand and rock. To my right, out of my reach, was a metal wall, a metal floor, and a metal door. When they entered, my dread only grew.

She was his slave by choice. She flitted about like some twisted fairy in a nighttime tale. He was her master by consent, standing stoically as she pranced about. Their friend eyed me up and down. He was followed by two more women I didn’t recognize. They both wore freakish grins. The group stared at me. I curled up into a ball, hugging my knees to my chest. I wanted to shield myself from their gazes, and from what I knew was coming.

“You’re ours now,” their friend said.

He approached, grabbed my arm, and unlocked the cuffs.

“And you’re mine first.”

I felt like I was going to collapse, and vomit, and die inside.

He dragged me through the metal door, down a hall, and into a small room. There was a large dirty sink on one side, a well-used washer/dryer combo opposite, and an old toilet in front of me.

“Clean up if you want.”

He didn’t bother closing the door behind him. He stared at me while he pulled down his pants. My guts twisted as I began to cry.

He turned me around, pushed me over the toilet, pulled my shirt up, and began to hurt me. He smeared blood and excrement from his dick onto my face, and laughed as I wailed uncontrollably.

And then I woke up.

1.12.17 My Sense Of You

~ a poem ~

You smell like oranges,
rinds ripped,
zest tingling,
bright and peppy and alive.

You taste like candy,
savory and sweet;
I wanna gobble you up.

You sound like sex,
but, then again, you always do,
whether it’s your moaning now
or the way you pronounce my name.

You feel like heaven
warm, inviting,
Me against you;
you against me.

You look like home.


1.11.17 I Miss You

~ a poem ~

Your hair is shorter.
I guess you got it cut this past weekend.
Before your bangs shaded your eyes.
Now I see them as you pass by.

You never look at me in the halls.
You don’t really look at anyone, actually,
but it feels like you’re intentionally not looking at me.

Your stride is quicker now.
I guess your heel no longer aches.
I’m sure coach and the team will be happy when your doc clears you.

I still have that book you like.
I miss when you’d read to me as we laid in the grass near the soccer field.
We never did finish it.

Mom keeps asking about you.
I think she’s holding out hope that we’ll get back together.
I avoid her questions.

Sam is planning this trip to the ocean.
We’re gonna drive out when it gets warm,
pack food and spend the day in the Sun.
I’m gonna bring that snorkel you gave me for my birthday.
I’ll finally get to use it.
Find some awesome shells under the waves.
I would’ve brought you one back, but, you know.

I’m good.
I guess you are too.
You never look at me,
or talk to me anymore,
but you look good,
so, yeah. Yeah.

Maybe later,
when things are better,
we’ll say hi in the halls,
or sign each others’ yearbooks,
or something.

1.10.17 The End Is Coming

~ a meandering string of thoughts ~

My eyes watered many times during President Obama’s speech tonight, moments where I allowed the emotions and gravitas of his words to break through. I soon clamped those feelings back down out of a sense of self preservation. That’s how my head works.

The next four years are not going to be easy. For the past eight years, there has been a president who worked to make the lives of myself, my friends, and my family better. Our soon-to-be leader does not share those goals.

I don’t let people see me cry, but typing this by myself in my room is proving difficult with swimmy vision.

I don’t know what to say. In this moment, I can only feel.
Anger, towards the people who voted for him.
Fear, for what he and his ilk will rain down upon us all.
Anxiety, in anticipation of what the world will make of his ranting and ravings.
Apathy, as I watch this travesty unfold.
Resolve, that I must continue to live my life, no matter the trials and heartache.
Determination, that even if I should falter, I will get back up and push forward.

For eight years, there was a man who looked like my Dad in the White House. I can only be thankful for that significant fact. I lived through the Obama presidency.

Now, it is time to tolerate tradition and move forward.
Resist. Loudly.


As he turned to his wife
and his daughter,
and his eyes sparkled
from tears,
I saw what I want
both in my life and for my country:
love, appreciation, respect, and devotion.
Instead, we get Donald.
The gut punch
of November 8th
is a dull ache
that lingers throughout each day.
It will take at least four years
before the pain goes away.

1.9.17 Spelling Out Goodbye

~ a poem ~

All I ask
Before you leave,
Calling it quits on us,
Divorcing our lives
Ever after, is please
Forgive me.
Grant me peace.
Help me to move on from you
In a way that will matter, that will last.
Just the words will do,
Kindness shown in this moment, a
Last gesture of love.
Mind you, I won’t believe you
No matter what you say.
Only say it anyway.
Perhaps, in time-
Quite a bit of time- I’ll
Remember your words,
See them, feel them, believe them,
Take them into my heart
Undoing the hurt we caused each other,
Vanishing the darkness
Weighing down on me. I’ll
Xerox a picture of a rose
Yellow, for joy and cheer, and hang it on my wall
Zeroing out the emotional debt owed between us.