Neanderthal Woman

Battle for the Planet of the Apes

Battle for the Planet of the Apes (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Thoughts on Ambien not so Full of Grace:
So, languidly and apologetically, I must say something. Not all twenty-somethings are the missing link to Neanderthal woman and Attack of the Fifty foot Dumbed Down Dyed Blonde.

P.S. Send Beckett Couvillion my love

P.S.
Send Beckett Couvillion my love

Not all attempt to defraud the government and profess a yearning to better the world in one false swoop of ignorant bliss.
Some pay their way through college on their dime and on their time and raise a family, sometimes with Baby Daddy, most often not.
Most do not claim indecent exposure of the plus side of life; they managed to work, volunteer, balance good with bad and cry at night once the kids are a sleep.
The handfuls of upper middle class ‘I want to be an adult…I really do!’ that live with Mum and Daddy. Rake sawdust to better the environment and pray to no higher power. These children dressed in Trazodone/Ambien disguise prey off the idea that ‘someone somewhere owes them something.’

Today there had been a beautiful woman to the likes I had never seen. She was balancing a child on one hip, scolding another child and handing out commands as though she had been running the tightest ship in the shipping business.
She gives to the local community via their needs and wants. She is proud and strong and versatile in what is given…for she and many like her know all too well what is needed.
She is a daughter to the next generation. No mother or father to pave a path of bad intentions and spoiled sexual ideation topped with gender bender idealism.
AmeriCorps VISTA, FEMA, spoilers of the spoiled brats have handed down karaoke machines, sweet drinks and open mic nights to these Romney descendants. The 1% of America that her majesty should disown. There are no nude portraits. No fingers held behind the back to which the Annie/Ambien’s speak promises with forked tongue. There is a generation out there willing to pay their fair share. Pick up the mess and gluttony of my group of wanton hippies and attempt to make the grass green again.
Why is it the privilege few are marking every leg with the scent of oblivious inadequacy? The papered in money few are soiling the lot of the working class.
Again, there are your tax dollars at work.
I suppose there is nothing we can do but POP another Ambien and hop it all goes away.

Mother Theresa the Martyr

...my gift unto thee... Gracie Willams

…my gift unto thee…
Gracie Willams

Ever since I can remember…my Adopt-A-Mom; Mother Theresa has been, well, how does one say it nicely? She has been the hair across my ass to which no salon will remove.
Trust me, I’ve tried. Of all the areas I which to leave blank, other than my mind and soul, my pubic arena and my since of timing, the area in most need of cleansing, Mother Theresa.
She has out and out disowned me for all the stupid mistakes I’ve made. Well, guess what Mum, I’ll probably make a shit load more.
In an attempt to be in sync with Mum, physically and sexually, I’ve asked myself the following question:
What is the greatest self sacrifice I can do for humankind?
Mother Teresa, the true martyr, accomplished many things; a self-less dedicated women in pursuit of the betterment of society. In total disregard of self, she became a beacon to many discarded and poverty stricken societal mishaps and human miscreation’s.

Mandated by mania and driven into martyrdom via trailer and it's trash.

Mandated by mania and driven into martyrdom via trailer and it’s trash.

So, I’ve thrown away my pointless education? I tossed down the shitter any attempt at originality in my folly for photo’s of dead trees. My sexual treasure map reads like Teddy Bundy’s diary and, well, I’ve just about given up on any pride from inner beauty.
Yet, I rake and I study to be a liaison to those poor unfortunates. An agent with no governing agency.
How is it then that my self sacrifice pays off my poorly directed Bachelor’s of Not so Fine Art? How is it that tax payers, poor and not quite so poor, are willing to pay for my relocation?
What the fuck? I’m confused enough about this selflessness crap!
Isn’t a society, small or large, better off, choosing it’s own particular needs? Does it not behoove Winchester Virginia, the Bronx or Anywhere, Impoverished, USA; to make those decisions for themselves?
And, didn’t I read in my sloppy way somewhere that FEMA on a whole is an over fed canker sore wrapped around US debt? Didn’t we really make a mess of things in the last two disasters?
I sit at a desk on occasion and listen to old and young hippies wanting to make me a seedling from their blooming righteous flower. I sit and don’t comprehend half of what I read. I have a learning disorder for Christ‘s sake. I meander and study over righteous thoughts and think, I have no single minded purpose and I am an addict who is unwilling to let go.
I don’t pay taxes. Or, at least, I don’t think I do. Father Floyd takes care of that for me. But if I did, I’d be pissed that martyrdom isn’t taxed!
Peacefully Yours-
Ambien, not by the Grace of God, Grace!

Diaries of a Sex Addict

Orgasm Addict

Orgasm Addict (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Excerpt from the taunting sex tales of ambiguity amongst Gracie Willams of the world:

I like it when someone’s full weight is on me when I give myself an orgasm. It amuses me and my ego when someone gets off watching me get off. Almost like letting someone see the real you and than pulling the curtain shut!
ha-ha just wait till you get me to orgasm its weird looking ha-ha-ha! I contort, shake and my face gets puffy and swollen. A sight to scare the sexual-ness out of any formidable lover.
I just can’t get my body to relax when I’m fucking someone. Some have come close to giving me what I want…but than I just drift away to my own little world.

I have fucked over 220 times in a matter of four or five months. And, it was all the same thing.
I don’t know how many times I’ve used these lines. To me it’s just another day not in paradise:

...this isn't Beckett Couvillion...

…this isn’t Beckett Couvillion…

…you don’t have to make me orgasm to make me happy.

…you get me weak in the knees when your in me, you give me goose bumps, you get my nipples hard

…your doing so much better than anyone I’ve have slept with

…you are doing everything right, its me

…I think I have a back of the mind fear of letting myself go

And, so it goes to Kate the psycho-bitch and my pleas for pleasing:

…no body has ever gotten that close with me. you made my body feel amazing. I can still feel the essence of your fingers in me and your shoulder and head on my stomach pulling your finger in and out of me

…you made me extremely happy….until we got caught by the police and then I was disappointed ha-ha

I adore it when it’s rough. I feel I deserve it. I witness my mother’s stoic head looming above my love victims. I hear her same old song and dance…Ambien, no one will ever love you. You are unlovable.
Sex, sex and more wonton, sex. The volunteering has put some showers on the self-love. However, late at night when I turn my anger inwards, I find myself taking care of my own business, like nobody’s business. Who knows? Maybe, a Brittany, Amber, Mercedes or Jeremy might want to just sit and watch.
It’s so hard to find good help now a days!

Nik(ki) of Time

Worse I ever Had...

Do ya’ suppose it is hard for someone who has been silver spoon fed and neurotically boxed up by mighty white folks; to understand the true injustices in the world?
Pretend I was gay. Not that I am mind you. For a moment though, make believe the Ambien Grace that stands before you is a known lesbian.
How is it that I am making this bigoted world better by hiding behind the shadow of homophobia?
How can I state, yeah, Sista’s of the world! Let’s unite in battle against the bias that has been laid upon our uteruses, our sexual preference and pride!
How in any females’ good name can I place myself in a category of a courageous women  A role of righteousness that has taken many older lesbians years to unravel.
Had I been born in another era I would have witnessed unfounded hatred non like I have ever see. Women closeted for decades for fear of elimination by the Man. Lesbians who have worked their whole life to correct such hatred.
I am indeed what most deem an albatross around the necks of homosexuals everywhere. I am what many would call a coward for when it comes to standing for something I fall down.

I suppose that it would only be logical to become a muted mascot to others. To the ‘real’ adults who have fought physically, mentally and emotionally for what little ground they have.
A lesbian such as, Ambien Grace, sends a message of fear not foresight! The fates have dealt me a hand filled with jokers produced by my unwillingness to right wrongs!
I am indeed the anti-lesbian.

Waste away to nothin’ in a dark dusty tomb
lookin’ for the traces of what used to be a room
wipe away the blood from a tormented brow
solve the wicked problem never asking how

Rock the sinking vessel till it rests on the bottom
count the waves of water don’t remember forgot them
taste the stench of livin’ on thin dimes and a dream
opening an ear to a painful silent scream

Oh life is bad
Oh no, worst I ever had

Ache and writhe in agony like a vise on aging bones
tar and acid drip from an ice cram cone
holding onto a wind that chases the hell
fallin’ in the darkness of an inner descending well

Caress transparent night as a demon with a sword
speak with an eloquence never saying a word
look into the clarity then erase it with the muck
lying in a pool of consciousness no such thing as luck

To being a beginner, to inventing the end
to livin’ with a strangler never a friend
saddle slobbering beast trouble is abound
ride the devil’s bronco never hit the ground

Oh well, no need for thought…There are many more like me!

Lesbian Wardrobe 4 Sale! Cheap!

my Mum forbids thoughts of reckless individuality

my Mum forbids thoughts of reckless individuality

Long Distance Love Note to Mother Theresa

How to be a Homophobic Lesbian
1. Wear non-earth tone colors. Preferably, pink, chartreuse, grammar school bathroom green and/or any purple you can find.
2. Have continuous unprotected sex with males and brag about it to your mother.
3. Run away and join the circus, the armed forces or volunteer with other large young adults to do the next right thing for America.
4. Pursue your mother’s passions not your own. Conform. Conform. Conform.
5. Have your mother braid your hair and pick/buy your clothes for you. Remember she has been a practicing heterosexual homophobe ideals much longer than you have.
6. See life as a box and do not step out of it with any ideas such as; originality, individuality and attempts at questioning authority.
7. Boost and boast about your sexual triumphs with men and disregard the failed attempts at being gay…perhaps, it was just a passing phase.
8. Become frumpy and dumpy and hope that no one notices the weight you’ve gained while transitioning over to heterosexual land.
9. Take a boat load of meds and nude photos of yourself. Remember bad publicity is better than none at all.
10. Last and certainly, not least, the only true love you will ever have for women will be your overbearing mother. The relationship maybe as close to ‘sexual’ that you will ever have without having to be who you truly are.
In my case, the flannel, the work boots, the thermals, the episodes of porn with women on women need to be tossed away. I’ve learned to bat my eye lashes, which are in need of waxing, and boost my biggest asset in hopes of attaining non innovative thoughts, my breasts. Every man loves a woman with swollen breasts. At least, that is what mother Theresa has told me.

Thank You for your time, you’ve all been so much more than kind-

Ambien, the Annie C., Grace