Another poem, revised

Ok that Dr. Seuss shit can just fuck off and die.

Major mood swing in progress.

Time for a different poem, reflecting my reaction to this afternoon's discussion with Pete, who wants to go play in a dungeon with yet ANOTHER vanilla chick. Yes, another vanilla chick comes forth from the lurking shadows and wants to play with him---and of course, he's all for it, so GO FOR IT my friend. To you, I say this:


Happy Horseshit

You can stuff your plan of marriage
And your promises of love
You can fuck your vanilla chickies
until the stars fall from above

So just go Mindfuck someone else
with your happy horseshit lies,
Cuz honey, I ain't fallin' for it,
And now I must say goodbye.


He can spend July 4th weekend alone. You don't sit on the phone with me for an hour during lunch talking about marriage plans and the future, and in less than 10 minutes later tell me you want to play with another vanilla chick on the one weekend we're not going to be together. All that talk about fragility in relationships apparently went in one ear but flew right out the other. I've wasted enough time on a Dom-wannabe. I'll just go see Big Al that weekend and continue onward with Peter. At least with them I have no competition. I win out over their vanilla wives every time. But 2 divorces and 6 other vanilla bitches who gave Pete a ton of shit this past year apparently aren't enough for him to learn his lesson. If these vanilla bitches are so great and he wants to play with them instead of me, then honey, you go right ahead and do just that.

But I don't have to stick around to watch. And I won't.

---Sassy Girl