Jim, traveled.

A Poem.

I've been gone for too long.
Mainland Europe, reported.
Ready to take-off,
Must find something that rhythms with 'reported'. Fuck.

My First Time.

I'm not gonna lie - this is my first time. I'm scared pooless. This isn't my first, but it's my first time. What's in a first time around the merry go around anyway? Is it that important? I'm going to get lubrication just in case.

I'm putting myself out there. I've extended the fickle hand of courtesy and have gotten a thus far well received response. Some fell asleep and some have even vomited all over me but I know how to relax someone into enjoying the experience. It's going to be memorable.

I normally have people do it to me but this is me on top, doing the whole lot of it. I don't really know what I have to do. I've had four years experience. I've watched, been there and critiqued loads. It can go well sometimes, but sometimes not.

I don't want a "he wasn't that great at it - it was pretty small to be honest' response. I talk myself up too often that it could be terrible for me. Well, whatever, I'm leaving in a few weeks so what if my first proper time goes terrible.

Lubrication is the key.

Christ, I hope people come to my party.

Crumple and...

I'm sitting in the Arts Millennium Computer Suite and translating away like the mad hoor that I am. Suddenly, a one eyed monster representing every shade of mundane and pity comes and sits right across from me.

'P'tak fy-oop glee'

Her Clingon-speak unbenkownst to me, her IPOD is screaming out of ears some rocknrolla song that I'd rather not be listening to.

I, being the kind, biopticular enabled pod that I am, attract her attention.

Mouthing, I enhance: Would you mind turning down your music, please?

She continues typing, then glances: the middle finger in all its glory. The 'fuck off'. The 'who are you to tell me to decrease volume'. The 'you can swing for silence, ya twat!'.

I'm so embarrassed. I can't believe that someone would treat me with such lack of respect. It's not as though I willed her first born spawn to me. What a...

Right, I'm bound by a deadline to finish this thing and I will.

And I did.

I wasn't going to leave without Mary knowing what she was. So I scribble.
'I HOPE THAT YOU KNOW THAT YOU ARE A CUNT'

I attract her attention but her alien senses had by now adapted to my human attractions.

'You're a cunt!'.

She still can't and won't let herself hear me, although most of the upper half of the room are stunned that I have stood up and called some unsuspecting a cunt.

I slap the page right in front of her screen - cause I'm going to let her know what I think. It froths and grunts and crumples the page into a ball. Fucks it at me she tried, whacked the girl to her right she did.

Poor bitch.

I left seething because I was treated like shite. I hope that there's some part of her inside that knows that she did wrong.

And I hope that I never have to call a woman a cunt again.