The Exorcist- the beginning, Blair Witch Project 2, and The Rite.

What a woman says:
"This place is a mess! C'mon! You and I need to clean up! Your stuff is lying on the floor, and you'll have no clothes to wear if we don't do laundry right now!"

What a man hears:
"Blah blah blah blah blah C'MON! YOU AND I blah blah blah blah blah blah ON THE FLOOR blah blah blah blah blah blah NO CLOTHES blah blah blah blah blah RIGHT NOW!!"

The setting sun behind me casts long shadows on her grave. I stand alone as the sweltering heat of the day gives way to the cool night. She was born here; amongst the fields of cows and sheep and the never-ending rows of meilies and sugar cane that we used to play hide-and-seek in as children.
Here in Sweetwaters, a place true to its name. Unkown by many, a symbol of poverty to some, and the place of no return for those who feel they are lucky to have escaped its dusty grip. Yet for her, home was truly where her heart was and she came back. Back to her birthplace, to sleep until the day after eternity has ended, under the cool shade of the Avocado tree.

I lie down on the cool, prickly grass, close my eyes and imagine that she is once again, like so many times before, laying beside me. I forget about the snakes and bugs crawling in the grass, I even forget that I am outside on a windy night. For just this moment, I allow myself to be blissfully ignorant to the reality around me and let my heart rediscover memories of her face, her smile, her laugh, anything that would bring her back to me.

I used to say that if I had one wish, I would wish her back. So I could selfishly keep her to myself and never again have to go through that icy hot stabbing feeling of losing her.
I know now that life isn't as simple as wishing on a star. In fact, wishes themselves seldom, if ever, come true. You accept what you're given and learn to live without that which is taken from you.

Nowadays when I wish upon a star, it is not with hopes of raising the dead. Those who leave remain in our memories; ageless beauties smiling at us. Now, my wish is that wherever she may be, my mother is proud of me.

12/06/1968 - 10/06/2006

This is beautiful.

Today is all we really have. We were strangers in our yesterdays. Tomorrow, an empty promise. But every minute of today is real. We can reach out and touch it, and know that as it passes, another is guaranteed.

Two weary hearts beating in unision. Battered. Bruised. Misery finding its company. In the pain we found pleasure. In the past, we found the present. Love may have not been the intention, but it was the result.

Forever isn't always long enough. A lifetime way too short. This is what I think as I watch you sleeping peacefully on the bed. A strong, sturdy body replaced by a skeletal frame. Where once I could feel muscle quiver as I stroked your body lightly with my fingertips; all that is left is bone and skin pulled taut around it. My fingers itch to dance across your body again. Slide smoothly, uninterrupted by IV lines and respirators. Somewhere far, where I could lay my head against your chest and hear your heart beating, away from the beep of a machine.

Time is a funny thing. It can drag on so that every minute feels like an hour, and every hour, a day. Your eyes open, slowly, as if the mere act of lifting your eyelids takes all the energy you can muster. Confusion clouds your eyes; you stare at me without comprehension. We are strangers once more.
Dry, chapped lips move soundlessly. Time moves too fast. Confusion fades into nothing. In the background, the machine's beep, endless.

Silently I lay beside you, your body still warm. Sliding my hand around your waist, I close my eyes and rest my head at the place where your heart used to beat.

Tomorrow never came for you my love, but we'll always have today.

She's standing alone. She's always stood alone, even in the midst of others. She isn't heart stoppingly beautiful, nor is she grotesquely ugly, just plain and easily forgotten. One of those people you pass in the street and see without seeing. An extra in life's production, never enough of anything to steal the show.

She is not moving, just staring in a manner that would be considered eerie by some. To look at her, you would never guess at the battle raging within; her constant fight to live and not merely exist. Behind her calm exterior, she bleeds.
Sometimes she bleeds so much inside, that she wonders why cracks and crevices haven't opened on her skin and let all that pain pour out for all to see. But who would look? Who would care?

Is that not the reason why she was standing there, inside her four walled prison with a razor in her hand? That little piece of metal that would show everyone how much she bled. Straight and deep. She watches in amazement as her pain trickles out in dark red rivulets, descending like coloured teardrops onto the white tiled floor below.
Along with the pain, comes a welcome release and a peace long forgotten...

As I slip from now into eternity, I feel myself walking away. Away from the pain. Away from the darkness. Away from the girl in the mirror.

5. Diverts attention from the fact that you also came to work drunk.

4. People stop stealing your pens after they've seen where you keep them.

3. You want to see if it's like the dream.

2. "I'd love to chip in, but I left my wallet in my pants."

1. Your boss is always yelling, "I wanna see your a*s in here by 8:00!"

Eminem

She hates the fact that when she looks in the mirror, she doesn't see what they see. So she turns to them, men, countless men, to tell her. But in her hatred there is love, a need for these faceless males with their roaming hands and slurred compliments.

Words whispered in the backseats of cars, in dark alleys behind unsavoury joints are like drugs to her system. She craves them like an addict craves his drug of choice. They soothe for a moment, but are never enough. There's always a need for more.

In the dark. Grunting and panting, these strangers will be her eyes, and for a short time she will see as they see; love what they lust after. They will use each other, one gaining physical satisfaction and the other, emotional fufillment, if only for a while.

She does not delude herself with dreams of love. She doesn't expect flowers, candle lit dinners, words of gratitude, or even a crumpled bank note on her nightstand. It is their desire she craves. For a short time, she fills their minds just as they fill her body. During those stolen moments, she belongs to them.

It is only when it is over, that the self-disgust returns. They walk away without so much as a glance back to where she lies curled up in a ball, alone with her hatred. They leave not as they came, for great chunks of her self cling to their retreating backs. She is left filled with emptiness. It is this emptiness she loathes the most, so once again, she'll go searching for herself in another's arms.

I know what you mean! Personally, I'm on team Ranger

Thank you

The years hadn't been kind. They hadn't been harsh either. Standing under the orange glow of the streetlight, she could've been anywhere between fifteen and twenty-five, innocence and experience fighting a strange war on her features so you thought of her as a child until you noticed the harsh set of her mouth, and the dead stare of her eyes. This was her calling card, she knew. She could be anything to anybody. For an extra ten bucks, she would even call you "daddy".

This was her job. No-one forced her to stand out here night, after night in a skirt that left little to the imagination and a top that took that little and made it nothing. Choices. She'd made hers. Swaart Street was one of them.

On quiet night like these, she could just be. Let her mind wander to a time when she'd dreamed of marriage and 2.5 children, a career, and arms that held her in the dark until dawn. She'd been touched. Her body was covered in fingerprints, for there was no place that hands had not been. All of them touched her, none of them held her. It was for this simple pleasure she yearned the most.

At the sound of sirens, she looks around. Cops. She had to watch out for the police. Years on these streets had taught her to be wary of those that had vowed to serve and protect. They either handcuffed you and threw you in a cell for the night, or they parked in a dark alley. That was worse.

A car approaches in the distance. A black Landrover. Tinted windows demark status. Upper middle class. Tired wife. Teenage children. The driver stops and rolls down the window. In a move that is both cliched and elegant, she leans down; forearms resting on the space previosly closed off by glass, giving him an even better view of her cleavage.

"Hey sugar, need some company tonight?"

Ok, let's play word scrabble "PNEIS". Did you get SPINE?
Like hell you did, pervert.

A wife had been in a coma for several months when one day, whilst bathing her private parts, the nurses notice a slight acceleration in her heart rate. So the nurses tell the husband that some oral sex might bring her around. They close the curtains and leave the husband alone with his wife. A minute later, the wife's heart rate slows down and then stops completely. The shocked nurses ask the husband what happened? "I think she choked."

I think I might have a slight drinking problem. A friend asked me toast some bread for them... I raised my glass and said, "HERE'S TO BREAD!!"

Maybe you should write it

Guy: Can I buy you a drink?

Girl: No thanks, alcohol is bad for my legs.

Guy: Why? Do they swell?

Girl: No, they spread.

God looks down and notices Adam all alone while all the animals have mates. He decides to create a companion for Adam as well. He comes to see Adam and says to him, "Adam, you are my greatest creation and therefore, I'm going to create the ultimate companion for you. She will worship the very ground you walk on, she will long for you and no other, she will be intelligent, she will wait on you hand and foot and obey your every command, she will be beautiful, and all it will cost you is an arm and a leg." After thinking for a few moments, Adam replies, "What can I get for a rib?"

Judge: Well sir, I have reviewed the case and I have decided to send your wife $700 a week.

Husband: That's fair, your honour. I'll try to send her a few bucks myself.

I find other woman sexually attractive. It doesn't mean I'd sleep with them, but there's nothing wrong with looking, and maybe fantasizing.