Pleasured

Here we are again:
you down on your knees
begging me, “Please
let me please you” again.

And I can’t look into your eyes
and tell you no anymore.
I know I’m the cause
behind all of your sores
and I can’t tell you that
I’m sorry without crying
and you know I don’t cry,
not in front of you anyway.

So girl please please me
just let me see me
inside of you
and I will never
have to cry
again.

Long stares
and unhealthy glares
lead us to display our wares
in a manner that is ungraceful
for anyone who was raised
how you and I were raised

So instead of staring,
glaring and over sharing
just please me
how you want to
and forget about
the world
tonight,
tomorrow
and forever.

Forget about so much
that you forget yourself
and you forget me
and all that remains is us
together, pleased, happy
and pleasured.

I Lost You

An impression
is all that remains
of where you once were,
sheets the same
as you left them
as I haven’t slept
since you left me.

I pray to a god
that I don’t believe in
for you to return,
but you will never
be in my bed
or in my arms again.

Tears roll down
and they coalesce
with all the rest
as we watch
you being lowered
and I realize
that the hole
is your bed now
and the silk
is where your
impression will lie

without me
until I find the courage
to join you
in the dark.

Giving In To Give Up

She was carefree
and running barefoot
through Devou
when the pansy
fell from her hair.

Gunshots were so close
that my ears were ringing.

Bending down
and picking up
the yellow flower,
she saw me
watching her.

I turned to see what I heard
and missed what I needed to see.

With a smile
that was meant
for me,
she tried to meet
my eyes.

The shot was meant for me and how
I wish it would have hit its mark.

Crimson soiled her
and her knees hit grass
and her smiled faded
and she looked
relieved.

I rushed to her side to stop the ebb,
but her outstretched hand stopped me.

“I will gladly take a bullet
for the man with love in his eyes
for a woman he had only seen once
for love at first sight
only happens when
we let go and
let another in
with trust
and without
expectation.”

A Poem

Hold Me

I never think
of me in your bed,
but I always think
of me in your arms.

I never know what
you are going to say,
but I always want
you to say it to me.

I came in
just to see
your eyes light up
and I stayed to hear
your voice touch my ears.

I never expect
anything from you,
but I always want
just a little bit more.

Just a little
more of you
to go with
a little bit of me
and a just
a little request:
hold me.

I didn’t expect
to even touch you,
but I wished
I could feel you
beside me.

I talked to hear
my own voice
in the silence
and I was shocked
to hear yours
answer me.

I glanced
in your direction
to see your reaction
and I was floored
when I saw
you looking back.

I closed in for a
simple embrace
and I found your arms
wrapped tightly
around me

And when
you’re around me
I seem to lose
my ability
to stand
on my own,
so I ask:
hold me.

I Gave It To My Wife And She Liked It

That sounds a bit dirty.

The letter I posted a short while ago, Seven Years Later – A Letter To My Wife, I actually gave to my wife and while I was not showered with love, she did say thank you. It was all that I could hope for. I honestly didn’t expect even that. It is hard being an emotional person married to virtually an emotional void.

Family Camping Trip Failure Leads To Mommy Blacking Out

My two year old daughter’s first camping trip started after her soccer practice on Friday evening. The tent was up before full dark and we were in decent spirits … until she realized she was going to have to sleep in tent. Not in her bed. On her own air mattress. Not in mommy and daddy’s bed. Without her music. Not in the climate controlled luxury of a home.

She finally passed out around midnight on my wife’s arm as we flitted in and out of sleep. She was being pinned in place and I was fighting to not fall off the mattress. I should have gone to my daughter’s mattress, but I refuse to sleep with an animal in my bed and the dog was occupying my daughter mattress.

We tried to recover in the morning, but as the cloud of condensation poured out of my mouth I realized that I packed nothing for weather below 65 and sunny. A morning trip to Walmart for clothes and McDonalds for a quick breakfast as it was nearing 8:30 am after the leaving the store and would be too late to get breakfast cooked by the time we got back.

We got back and the demon came out. She demanded that we go hiking so it wasn’t all bad, but as we had to drive to the trail because the one off the campsite was not suitable for a two year old, she screamed the whole way that she wanted to “GO HIKINIG NOW”.

Hiking started out marvelously.

On her own to start the hike

Getting a little help from mommy up the first hill.

This was the las happy face until it was all over.

The remainder of the hiking consisted of standing still and being carried, along with crying, hitting, kicking the dog, and butt busting. We cut the hike in half and went back to the campsite.

While we were relaxing my perfect angel poured an entire can of soda in the tent, threw the dogs water and food, kicked the dog again, went on a general rampage to the point that I finally said enough and started packing things up as my wife cleaned and helped me tear down. The first camping trip was over. It did not look like there would be another one.

I called and begged my mother-in-law to take our daughter overnight so that we wouldn’t go further out of our minds and she (thankfully) agreed. When we dropped her off I realized that I forgot to give my daughter her nighttime blankets and buddies which could have been one of the reasons for no sleep and we also found out she is cutting her lower rear molars. All of that added up lead us to believe that we could probably try camping again under different circumstances and if we took her brother to keep her busy (and out of our hair).

We headed home and contemplated climbing in bed and not getting out until morning even though it was only 3:30 pm.

We should have.

Instead we decided that we were going to go home and drink a little while we watched a movie which, somehow, turned into, “Let’s buy a bottle of rum and play a movie drinking game”.

Watching The Hangover (a great comedy) and taking a shot every time someone says “Doug” is impossible. I remember making it 32 minutes into the movie and that is only because we were laughing and missed some Doug’s.

I woke up with a horrible headache at 9 am. I freaked out as we had to have our daughter picked up at 11 am. I rolled over to wake up my wife and when I touched her I smelled it. She had vomited in her sleep. She warned me not to come near her as she woke up in it at some point and apparently rolled it up in the sheets (which are being thrown out) and passed back out.

She was lucky that she wasn’t sleeping on her back or she would have choked to death as she was not sleeping, she was passed the ‘f’ out.

Sad part? Probably the best night I have had in years and even thought it took me until 3 or 4 pm to recover enough to not vomit every time I moved, I know I would do it over given the chance and I plan on doing it again. The next time we will wait until the guys get to Vegas to start drinking and instead of slamming shots we will drink mixed drinks and beer, adding a few rules of our own.

So now the house is a mess. Our daughter is asleep after being drugged with teething tablets and Tylenol. My wife is asleep on clean sheets, covered with a clean comforter. My week looks atrocious as I will be struggling to find a way to get back into a routine. And we all feel like we were in the back of a box truck rolling down the side of a mountain.

  • Camping with a cranky toddler – bad.
  • Drinking with your wife – good.
  • Drinking until you blackout – bad.
  • Smiling at the end of the day because you realize the love that exists in your familiy is strong, deep and real – wonderful.

How was your weekend?

Scared Of Missing Out On Her Firsts

I cannot watch my daughter during the day. My anxiety levels get too high and I end up prone and useless before the day is half over. I can barely take care of myself (some days I can’t) and therefore it is best that my daughter spends her days with someone else.

Luckily we do not have to result to daycare as my wife and I are both against it for many reasons. The only good thing that we believe comes from daycares is socialization skills. We attempt play-dates as much as possible to make up for the fact that she is alone all day with her great-aunt.

Mi-mi (my wife’s aunt) watched my wife and her sister when they were young and now she watches our daughter. She could never have children of her own and makes up for it by treating our child as her own. This is a wonderful thing in many aspects, but in certain things I find myself insanely jealous.

I have missed so many firsts in my daughter’s life and will continue to do so. Mi-mi and her husband take our toddler anywhere and everywhere they can. They buy her whatever she wants and while attempting not to spoil her, give her nearly everything she want and do everything she asks to do.

I want to be that person. I want to take care of my daughter. I want to be there for her firsts. But I can’t. I cry more often than a man should, especially since emotion has come into my life.

Instead I am the disciplinarian as my wife refuses to be. She wants to be the fun mom when she gets home from work. So I nearly never get to be the fun guy. The exception to the rule is on the weekends when my wife wants to go shopping.

On the weekends when it is just my daughter and me we color, paint, watch TV, have tea parties, cook in her kitchen, go shopping ourselves, go out to eat, etc. It is rare, but I cherish every moment.

I have had an issue with memory in the past and it is not completely gone, but it is getting better so I take pictures of everything I can, every time I can and of her as much as possible, especially when she is smiling because of something I did.

Today, when I dropped her off with Mi-mi my princess would not let go of me. She clung to me like I was the last piece of chocolate in the box. She cried real tears when I said I was leaving and begged me not to go. Part of me felt really bad, but part of me felt really good. I know my daughter loves me, but it is nice to be reminded from time to time.