Friends, Lovers, Enemies, Welcome bitches. If you've come along on this blog I am pleased you made an effort to be the nosey son of a gun- I know we all are. I would like to warn all of you's: typos , profanity, bad grammar and names/fake names will be posted :) with that said Welcome to my inner Abby the beast that lives within.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Top Self




I'm tired of playing teacher to my past Cons-Alcoholics-and Starving artist. I'm finally whole. I find it cute and amusing that I maintain to have the same image after having Emma. My image is still clean. Shining, Sparking Clean. Do they not see how much damage my hourglass has been chipped away. I put myself on display  just to be looked at -"Admired" and only the few with class try me enough until I go back on the shelf. I'm never confuse for "well"- Always handle has "Top". And because of that leads me in the arms of a guy who knows his liquor. Doesn't hesitate but to ask for me, rather then some generic brand. So, how can I find someone who is willing to handle me on regular basis. To always want Top -When Banker's Club is cheaper, about the same, and most people will never know the difference.
 Guess, I'm just destined to be in the arms of a man to pick and choose. Rather, then to take me off the shelf permanently - When the cheap vodka that is easily reached by any common bartender is severed to any innocent man that wouldn't know the difference. When the slick over powering drunks always want to have in possession what's too high to reach. But the only one's that ever try...



Monday, January 24, 2011

Heart Beat




Black swan
Fair in skin
You use to write poems
Now you linger before you swim.
Open your nest,
Watch her feet kick.
Your hoping for freedom
But you linger before you swim.
You watched the puddles,
But didn't mind the fall.
Black swan I don't recognize you at all.
I blame him for taking you.
Out to the sea.
Now you can't make a Wiggle
Or push with your feet.
Stuck by the rocks,
When before you use to swim..
Your feathers turned white and your beak grew thin.
You can't make a beat
So why pretend.
That little black swan died along with him.

Friday, January 7, 2011

Oh what big arms you have!


Wifey. Yes, I'm going there. The title has stuck to my veins the minute I let a boy three years older then me snatch me up and make me his dinner. What a stupid bitch. I've only had three relationships-three very long relationships. Two that made me cry dry, and One that left  a bitter taste and stretch marks to my hips. All three I adore in different ways, all three I was faithful, loving, and protective.An idiot.
So, why is it that the one's we admire are the one's that we clearly wasn't wifey with..We let our imperfections out and didn't give a fuck if they love us, hurt us.. But in some odd way they manage to have a hold on us. They figured us out better then the guy we shared a bed with. Nothing but laughs,games,a bond. How does that happen? How does someone who we went into knowing nothing can ever happen.Teach us, ooh so much more- then the guys we spent years with. Be able to tell us the dimples they've missed, or the habits we do in minutes. Rather then years. We leave the guys we pored our hearts to with anger but the one's who never tried forever in bliss. How does wifey become meaningless when title-less holds so much more worth in our heart.