A Promise

Ive prayed for God to keep men away from my son and I…. anything bad that happens in my life has its roots grounded in a man. Since I have no self control, since I’m slowly killing myself, since I cannot interact with a man and avoid being myself, I want to just be left alone. My daydreams have gotten so vivid that I confuse them with reality… to the point that I can feed my own appetite for sex, I ruminate so much conversations with others are not needed and my heart has been lifted with all its scattered pieces and left beyond repair. Pray for me.


“Friends With Bennies”

…See you don’t have to front,

I know what you want,

but disguising lust as affection and fucking with no protection well see,

that just confuses things…

and lying and and selling dreams only leads to thoughts of sharing a roof and wedding rings,

and all the other bullshit that your wolf tickets disguised as our potential tends to bring….

I’m not expecting your love…

Matterfact…I don’t even care if I get ur respect,

all I’m asking is that you cut to the chase and stop taking up space…

and drop the hammer that you’ve been using to knock down this wall that I’ve built around my heart to protect…

Myself from people like you…

you use your soft kisses and uncompromising orgasms to wrap me up into your fist of lies,

and you hide behind “not wanting a relationship” as an excuse for me having no reason to cry.

You may not want this,

but it was your casual way of giving me the benefits of a relationship without the ship part of having relations,

and you told me things to make me fall for you when I was just a bitch in your rotation.

You know that lying to me with your actions will make me forget the honesty of what you say,

like when you say you’re not ready to commit but when a man gives me his attention you act like you feel some type of way…

Look… what are we doing?

Are we friends with benefits or something more?

Because whenever I try to walk away you start to convince me that this situation is something worth waiting for…

I need a man who considers me a blessing and not a decision,

and that gives me clarity and places a clear path of OUR future in my line of vision,

not just maybe’s, potential bastard babies, fucking on the weekends and endless waiting,

but laying the foundation for something beautiful, meeting one another at the spiritual level and dating.

I care for you at a level that only we understand,

but I have no hangups, I’m strong in faith, I’m ready to love and I should not have to share a man.

 Just admit it…

You wanted to hit it and quit it,

but then you didn’t know the convo would be so intense,

the food would be so good, the sex to be so hood,

and now you’re confused and wanna let go but then you just don’t know,

then you  got this love you refuse to show and its all at my expense.

Well look… let me do this for you,

I’ll lose your number and change mine,

and the next time your dick gets hard, you don’t wanna sleep alone and your mama ain’t cook,

I’ll give you a friendly reminder of how you wasted my time.


There comes a time in the life of every broken woman,

Where she reaches this moment of clarity,

I’ve been putting on for all these men,

but no one is still willing to father, love, commit to, or marry me.

See, I’ve been doing all of these things that society wants,

asserting my independence, cooking, being a strong mother,

burying myself beneath makeup, weaves, defied spirituality, being an unrestricted lover.

I’ve often lowered my standards of love and romantic interaction,

aligning my wants and needs with the assumed capabilities of man,

using the “times” to excuse my desperation, empathy for my counterparts weaknesses and commitment-less one night stands.

“It’s the new millennium” they say,

“What you won’t do another bitch will”,

“A woman should support and coddle and hold down her struggling man”,

“Girl at least he trying, he might can’t afford to take you out… but at least he’s willing to chill.”…

But beyond all of the excuses and easy sex,

I’m still carrying my own groceries, carrying my own household and my own son,

Carrying this pussy over to the next nigga who would rather open my legs than my door,

I’ll continue to exhaust the little bit of food or dignity that I have feeding and fucking a man who has never even committed to me being his only one.

But I’ve never had a true basis of love,

see I was born to my mother out of adultery and promiscuity,

and my papa was a rolling stone who only “loved” my mother out of boredom and financial necessity.

I never had a man to provide me with the basics of love so there would be no void to fill,

A man to lead by example, to teach me patience, countenance, submissiveness or how to conduct myself when the love of a man is finally reciprocated and is real.

So in my own dis-intelligence I’ve been easy, became a single mother, a lover on the side, an “independent woman” to my own fault,

Love coupled with confusion can be so unforgiving,

But fucking, sucking, crying, lying, babies out of wedlock, and trying even when he’s playing me to my face is the only type of love that I’ve been taught.

They call us smuts, dummies and stupid because we are losing in a card game that came with no rules,

We are misrepresented in society because we take advice on our hands from other broken women, the whores that birthed us and the also misinformed married women and “the lucky bitches” who have never walked in our shoes.

Don’t tell me I deserve better when I’ve been trying so long that my pussy hurts and I’ve got more notches on my belt than fishes in the sea,

And please excuse my trepidation when I meet a “good man” who finally wants to be with me.

They all have potential at first,

They all call you beautiful, commend you on how you’ve been holding it together and go on about how they just want to settle down,

But once the lights come on, the semen has been cleared away and the panties are replaced with real expectations they all stop coming  around.

We have all had our breaking point,

met a man that introduced us to happiness, made us feel loved, like he understood and wanted to help us heal,

and at the height of our happiness he pulled the love from beneath us, crushing what was already broken and killed whatever was left of our courage in love until…

we began to self medicate,

making failed attempts to put back together what love had destroyed forever and replaced it with self hate,

we sucked dicks, wore “facials”, and sucked our own breasts trying to turn a man on to our lust because our love and personalities didn’t hold enough weight.

We have all made these evaluations of ourselves,

but we continue to climb into beds and extend ourselves beyond our comfort because we have learned to do everything that we can to hold a mans attention,

blocking the ascension of our own pain refusing to let the light in that will help us to embrace and to act upon our misapprehensions.

So we sit at the foot of beds,

and watch as our desperation dresses himself after planting another seed of insecurity,

and we will move forward embracing our impurity until we reach the bottom of our love addictions, blaming men and building bitter walls around our emotional immaturity.

I wanna be loved,

But I can’t do it without the blueprint of how to act while I’m waiting, when its coming and when its here,

and they all say “look in the good book” it’ll tell you everything you need to know,

but those women didn’t possess my urgency, my single parenthood, or the seed of fear based on experience and this craving for sex that won’t disappear.

A product of my choices and my own disparity,

the spawn of my parents failure to introduce the pretentiousness of love and commitment to their posterity,

There comes a time in the life of every broken woman where she fucks love and embraces and admits the truth of herself,

and  reaches this moment of clarity,

Today while walking into work I overheard a man complaining that he hadn’t taken his HIV medication in over a week because he was trying to get the money together to pay his water bill. I got on Facebook and saw a post of a video that a masked man had recorded naming all of the women he had purposefully given AIDS. It seems like everywhere I turn all I hear and see are public service announcements, quotes and people talking about sexually transmitted infections. This of course bothers me more than it does most people because of my lifestyle. I took an HIV test over a week ago and I still haven’t received the results but the sickening thing about it all is all of my adult life I have been trying to desensitize myself to the detriment of the virus because I’ve always tried to put myself in a responsible and proactive head space to deal with a positive result. It almost sickens me to even type that but I made this blog so that I could have a place to purge all of my truths, well.. to purge the type of truths that I know that the general public would be uncomfortable with. So here is my truth, I took an HIV test over a week ago… and not even a week later I went right back out and had another unprotected encounter. After that long night of emotionless tussling in the bedroom I realized that I really do have a problem. I really have no control over my impulsiveness toward men, sex and affection… not even enough to save my own life. Its like my son, my family, my health, not even my own happiness is worth more than a kiss. How desperate could one person be? I am so desperate for the pursuit and conquering of a man that I am willing to move through life mentally preparing myself to die. I know that I need help but I just cannot bring myself to walk into the office of an addictions counselor and put my cards out on the table and just ask for help. Every time I have sex with a man I get this eerie feeling that he’s going to be the one that eventually kills me. I get this thought, “Is that the penis that finally gets me sick?” I’m constantly afraid, some nights I can’t even sleep because I’m constantly plagued by thoughts of where would my son go? Who would hold him when he experiences his first heartbreak? I want to one day meet his wife, be healthy enough to play with his kids and to enjoy the fruits of all of my labor throughout his adulthood. But I just cannot get past this need that I have. It feels like I’m chasing a feeling, a passion a satisfaction that doesn’t exist. What am I looking for? How will I even know if I’ve found it? What does it feel like? I need help but I can’t even verbalize what I need help with?

Me: Hi… I need help to stop flirting, sucking dick, fucking raw, binge eating and wanting to die, do you have a doctor for that?

Front Desk Lady: Sure, his name is God.

Ha… I make an interesting point. As spiritual as I am I’m so afraid to ask God for help in this situation because I’m not so sure if I have the strength to hold up my end of the bargain of anything he has planned for me…surely I’ll destroy it as most addicts do in their moments of weakness. How can God send me a partner, how can he bless me with prosperity, how can he cover my life if all I do is shove past it to get to a dick? I hate this….

:”( FUCK. All I want to do is cry, fuck and eat a huge burger right now. I need a sitter.

Living to Die…Apparently.

So I’m sitting here waiting,

the clock is almost at three,

that fire between my breasts competing with the flow between my legs,

My phone begins to vibrate as he texts me:

Unlock the door Mel, I’m outside

So I quickly run to the bathroom to fix my hair and to gather my pride.

As I walk quietly pass the living room I hit the lights to hide my sin,

Saying a quiet prayer to myself that I promise to never ever do this again.

I slowly open the door to face what’s behind my shame,

I ignore his face and focus on his purpose because after awhile they’re all the same.

I step back to give him entry and he steps past me with no kiss,

But I ignore the subtle disrespect because I’m just so used to this.

He makes his way to the bedroom and steps out of his shoes on the way,

I follow him creating my own flash fantasies hoping for foreplay.

He unzipped his jeans and revealed himself to me,

And took me by the hand placing it on his love zone as he pressed me firmly on the shoulder moving me to one knee.

I shook his hand away and grabbed him aggressively.

I watched him with admiration as he grew inside my hand,

He moved his head from side to side enjoying my symphony as I began to stroke that baby grand,

I eyeballed it and watched its largeness with anxiety,

focusing on my thumb work as I planted my affections inside this other woman’s man.

I spat once,

and carefully inspected his reaction,

I spat twice,

and licked the tip rapidly as I felt for his muscle contraction.

I dove forward placing my hand at his backside expecting him to resist,

 He let out quiet vulgarities as his mouth opened and I gave his balls a soft fist.

I buried my face in his lap,

and moaned each time he entered my face,

I squeezed my pussy muscles tightly careful not to cum as I sped up my pace.

He begin to stumble backward as I muscled his ass to the bed,

he sat down violently as I firmly sucked on the head.

He called for God and then nicknamed me his bitch,

I watched his stomach rise and fall quickly as he pushed my face into his lap and he began to twitch.

I rose from my knees as semen and saliva dripped from my chin,

I watched him get himself together as I stroked my clit dramatically as my patience began to wear thin.

I pressed his legs together and crawled past his chest, settling on his face,

he grabbed me at the hips as I pinched my nipples and grinded,

dancing to the songs of his  depictions of how he enjoyed my taste.

Just as I was peaking,

he lifted me and pushed me to my hands and knees,

pressing aggressively on my back,

he pressed his mouth into my anus sucking and driving his finger as I begged him “Please..”

“Baby you want this dick?” he growled…

With no energy to speak I nodded yes,

So he rolled me onto my back and placed my foot in his mouth as he palmed my breasts.

I grabbed at his dick and desperately rubbed it back and forth against my clit,

I felt him begin to thrust forward as he gave my toes a lick.

He began to press himself inside me as I submitted with assistance,

unprotected with no ties I gave him no resistance.

I closed my eyes to avoid his as I focused on the feeling,

he drove into me slowly as my soul hit the ceiling.

He grunted and I moaned and I heard my wetness drain,

his dick filled my stomach so I massaged my pelvis to ease the pain.

He saw my uneasiness so he moved my hand and began to pound with no hesitation,

he licked the bottom of my foot landing at my big toe as I pushed at his chest with aggravation.

I clenched my muscles trying to force him away,

“open that pussy up” he said as he wrapped his hand around my neck, pushing my knees to my shoulders,

“Yeah bitch.. I don’t play”

He repeatedly dipped himself inside as deep as he could,

quickly drawing out my cum,

I let out a long gasp as I shivered as he massaged my ass with his thumb.

I came quickly to my senses moving him to his back with my thighs,

I mounted him with no problem as I placed him inside me as I focused on his eyes,

with everything still so sensitive I grinded on his dick releasing orgasmic sighs.

I drove him inside of me,

slowly moving up and down,

he grabbed my ass and squeezed tightly,

biting his bottom lip intensely he began to pound.

I grabbed the wall ahead of me,

catching my balance as I threw it back,

he sucked my breasts as I leaned forward as he grunted

“bitch you get some dick and don’t know how the fuck to act.”

He couldn’t keep up so he gave up and enjoyed the ride,

I leaned back placing my palms on his shins,

I could feel my titties bouncing violently as I came again.

I moved back and forth…







He grabbed me by my waist and lifted me,

guiding me to the edge of the bed,

I laid on my back but he flipped me over instead.

He gave my ass two smacks as he inserted the head.

I drove myself into him but he came back with ambition,

He touched the bottom of that shit and knocked the strength out of my knees with extreme precision.

He grabbed me by the hair and yanked my head back,

and beat into that drum even harder tapping my pussy repeatedly with his sack.

I screamed out painfully but I didn’t want him to let up,

I could feel my ass take on a rhythm of its own as I drove it backward to keep up.

I could hear him cursing my pussy between his teeth because for sure he couldn’t take it anymore,

I could feel his dick begin to swell beneath me so I released myself from his hold and sat down on the floor.

I sat flatly with my mouth open wide rubbing my pussy vigorously,

as he pounded himself violently in my face, he released himself and I sucked at him desperately.

Holding the sides of my face he threw his head back in ecstasy,

his chest rising and and falling as he shook his head in disbelief rapidly.

He stood and looked down at me and smiled as i diverted my eyes,

I stood and walked past him unfulfilled which was no surprise.

As I ran warm water onto his rag I stared at my sweaty reflection,

yet again I had played myself when all I really wanted was his affection.

I walked back into the bedroom to see him texting on his phone,

I really wanted someone to hold me but my sadness wanted him to just gather his things and go home.

I kneeled before him and cleaned all evidence of our encounter,

he texted above my head and I wondered if it was her.

I finished and sat beside him but he immediately got up,

“I’m about to dip out” he said, “A nigga gotta wake up.”

He put his clothes on and tied his shoes unusually neatly,

put his coat back on and I followed him door,

he opened it himself and left with no embrace,

leaving me feeling emptier than before.

I walked quietly to my bedroom,

eyes lowered deep in thought,

admitting to myself that it was me not them that had continuously broke my own heart.

I lay back in my bed,

burying my hands beneath my sheets,

I cried desperately to myself and I massage myself to sleep.

Just as I’m about to close my eyes,

a light illuminates on my phone,

another face has left a message

3:53am: Hey Mel, are you home?

I sit up and return

4:03am: yeah why wassup?

an immediate chim returns

4:03am: I was gonna come through, I was seeing if you was up.

4:03am: Yeah its cool come through, I can’t sleep I was watching tv,

4:04am: Aight I’m on my way, have on something sexy when you see me.

I rise to my feet and wipe the tears from my eyes,

I run to the bathroom and run a shower as I tell myself lies.

“At least he wants to spend the night”

“I’m not having sex with him”

Saying a quiet prayer to myself that I promise to never ever do this again.

Self Destruction



Friendship it…is…

Friendship doesn’t mean shit. It isn’t a commitment ordained by God… there’s nothing in this world that holds a friend accountable for their honorability and their scrupulousness. When they hurt you there are no divorce proceedings, no settlements, no division of property and estate... they are just allowed to slowly destroy you. They bruise your trust, find so much pleasure in causing you so much pain until they finally drive that last knife into your back–strategically inserting it so that it also touches your heart and they move on to their next victim painted in smiles. Tonight, I’m typing to you in tears. I have many facets to me. Yes, I am sexually unrestricted… yes, I tend to embrace my own promiscuity but I am a vessel of love. When I do love, I love deeply and I embrace every detail of that love. I’m completely meticulous in driving that love positively.  I can admit I tend to be selfish with that love, but how can you blame me? I have had my heart beaten, ripped apart, spat on, mocked and placed on hold for my counterparts personal gain time and time again my entire life. Men have hurt me yes, but friends have undoubtedly wounded me much deeper.

I have mentioned in previous blogs that my one true love left me for my best friend in college, which left me with this lingering fear in my heart in regards to bringing women around men that I was interested in. It not only ruined my confidence, made me question my worth but it gave me very deep feelings of inadequacy. I am always afraid that people are going to leave me for someone or something because they always have. I’m not sure if I am simply speaking these things into existence, if I am just really a poor judge of character or if it may be a combination of both—Fuck this shit… Let me be candid. Someone hurt me deeply today, someone that I loved so deeply that it made me cry and I never cry. This is a man that I have always been a true friend to and he has consistently disproved his love, respect and regard for me. We have bounced back and forth between a friendship and having a flirtationship on and off for the past 6 years, mostly flirtationship than friendship.  This is a man that I wrote and kept in contact with while he was in prison, that I helped throughout his house arrest and that I have just simply always been there for through thick and thicker. But he has always treated me like I was a person of convenience, sometimes like a cum deposit, sometimes like a therapist but never like a friend. My romantic feelings have always persisted with this man but I kept them at bay because I knew that I could never compete with the type of women that he was accustomed to… which I accepted and completely understood. In him being in prison and on house arrest we became closer. We got to know each other on a more intimate level, we asked all the right questions and the bond began to grow. I knew that he was using me because he had little to no contact with the people who were his friends before he went to prison. I never expected him to continue that same level of communication with me when he came back home but when he did my love began to fester. I started to volunteer and inconvenience myself as I often do, to prove my loyalty to him. I wanted him to know that I loved him and that I was his friend for the long haul. The only thing that I asked of him in return was for him to take my son and I to the Aquarium when he got back on his feet because at that point I was a struggling single mother and neither my son nor I had never been and I knew that was something I would never be able to otherwise afford. He happily agreed that it would be no problem; but instead, when he got on his feet he ditched me and I didn’t hear from him for months. He fell back into the life of money, moochers and women and forgot about my son and I. He called once because he was hungry and wanted to go to a buffet, and eager for his friendship I agreed to take him since he was treating but then he disappeared again shortly afterward. The vicious cycle persisted, he would call me to use me and I would happily oblige because I loved him.

A week ago I decided to end the cycle. He called to ask if he could come over and spend some time with my son and I, so as normal… I ran out in the snow to buy the ingredients to prepare his favorite meal. I came home, prepared the meal and my son and I sat… and we waited. I shot him a text

Hey, are you coming or did you decide to just stay home because of the bad weather?

No response… so we waited. He never showed up. My son was devastated because like myself he loved him and his attachment issues are nearly as bad as mine. This man was my sons friend and he disappointed him. I sent him a heartfelt text message outlining the various times he had let me down and I concluded with my goodbyes. Of course there was some opposition but my heart just simply couldn’t take anymore. Sometimes even the unloved breaks to the point where they have to separate themselves from pillars of sadness in their lives. He subsequently called me earlier this week asking if I was home and I told him I wasn’t available and got out of the phone call. But in that phone call he placed himself back on my mind. Again rolled in the thoughts, the daydreams, the tossing and turning thinking about him which lead to me pulling up his Facebook to see if I could catch a glimpse of his kids’ Christmas and there I saw it… we will call her Kelli.

Kelli and I had been really good friends and our kids had been friends at a point and time as well. She was the first woman I had put my trust in since the devastation I experienced with my best friend in college.  Kelli and I  spent all of our weekends together, spent hours on the phone, partied together and just genuinely had a million and one things in common–until I found out she was secretly trying to date a guy that I had been in a relationship with prior.  The  friendship ended in a deeply emotional verbal exchange and despised her moving forward. So… I saw her name on his Facebook page. “Merry Christmas, and thanks for buying the gift for my daughter”, she said. This was the same man I had invested 6 years of my heart in and all I had ever gotten out of the deal was a buffet style meal at a cheap Asian Hibachi Grill. My son and I were at a point where we were literally on our knees praying for groceries because that was the only resource we had, and this was the man that would call me and gloat about how he had taken this or that random woman to some four star restaurant.Oh’ pardon me, he had given me 20 dollars on one occasion for which he had belittled me and made me work for. This had been a man that my son had loved and he never thought to even purchase him a pack of gum and here he was catering to this woman that had broken my heart so badly in her own selfishness and callousness. I hate him… I fucking hate him… I hate him… I hate myself…I HATE HIM. I hate him with such a darkness there could never ever be a place for love to exist again. I hurt so bad… I’m so tired of trusting. I’m so tired of being the stupid one. Why am I always at the bottom? Every 365 days at a minimum I feel this way…at least once a year. I just want to own four seasons in peace. I want to own one true friend, one person that regards me… I have never felt that before. I feel like God is pitting me with purpose… like there is a small spoon inside of me digging and pulling and hurts so badly. I can’t understand… am I supposed to seek my own demise? I can’t continue to live inside of my own head like this. The only thing keeping me alive is my son… he is the machine sustaining my life, and even he suffers from depression. I’m holding on to a 6 year old that can barely hold on to himself. If I had the courage I would grab him by the hand and walk us both clear away from this earth… but that would separate us in death which would break my heart further.  I think that it would be a better idea to just purge all people that I have mistakenly labeled as friends, and that’s what I intend to do. It’s time for me to end this cycle. Everybody has got to go, the good, the bad… the unsuspecting,  I cannot risk another heart break because at this point it is a matter of life and death. logo_445125_944j586k_web

The Friendship Purge.