Skip to main content

A New "You"

I don't want a new You. I like the You I've got right now, I like him a lot.

But you know... I don't know if it's worth the effort with You; I mean... you obviously don't care what happens to my pussy, and as for me...well I do care about where you put your dick. But I don't see it often enough to honestly believe it isn't getting handled every other hour by every other girl around.

So I don't know... should I start taking applications for whoever wants to be the new "You"?

Or should I keep writing to You? Because if you don't read it, then that is the ultimate sign of your indifference. But I don't know if you do or if you don't....and I'm trying to avoid crediting my assumptions as a substitute for truth.

Anyway... I don't want a new you.... I just want you to want me.


  1. Are you talking to me?

  2. I don't want you, I want golden grahams. Oh sweet decadent, delictable, golden have always shown me the sort of respect i want from a woman. silence.


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I Can't Hear Your Little Red Rooster


I call this room Home.

He will not look at me

His eyes flicker with

a speck of violence.

my strained smile,

disgusted by

my pleading eyes.

my veins freeze

icy blood

tearing through coronaries

May Day

'Hope, you don't have to use it on your wedding night.'

She handed the pistol to Hope, right after the vows, right before the reception.

'I'm just kidding, darling. Don't worry. He's a good man. You did well sweetheart. He's a good man. You'll be fine.'

Hope's paper-thin smile tried to grow as she stared at her grandmother's reflection in the mirror. The mother-of-pearl grip sparkled in her grandmother's hand, bathed by the Chapel's cheap buzzing lights.

'There's a bullet for you, just in case.'

Hope had left the gun on the table.

A week earlier, drunk off self-pity, she had taken it out of its case and walked to the kitchen, where she stuck the barrel in her mouth and proceeded to take pictures of herself to send to Ray.

In a rare instance of good fortune, her phone ran out of battery before she could indulge her sense of pithy revenge. She woke up and pried open her tear-salted eyelashes then made sure to delete an…