It’s My Anniversary!

img_20140328_2j12920 (1)Today is the anniversary of my surgery.  My have my life changed since then!  I am socially, mentally, physically, and emotionally different for the better.  I truly got my life back that day.  I am so humbled but at the same time proud of my experiences fighting this incurable disorder.  People keep telling me I am strong and I am starting to see that indeed I am.  Even in my weakest moments I am strong.

Just last month, I experienced the worst pain I have even been in during my entire life.  One weekend I went to the emergency room and just six days later, I was back.  That morning, it took me forever to get out of bed.  I took my shower and noticed how sore the skin on my stomach was.  When I got out of the shower and sat on my bed, I noticed that the skin around my navel was very swollen and red.  I showed my best friend because I had never experienced it quite like that before.  I laid in bed for hours after that.

When I got up to get something to drink, my stomach hurt so bad that I couldn’t bend at the waist.  I dropped a bottle of Starbucks out of the fridge and just left it there because I couldn’t bend over to pick it up.  I lay in bed and took a Lortab, the first one I had taken in months.  I slept about 4 hours, then the pain woke me up.  I woke up crying and whimpering.  I was in so much pain that I couldn’t even move my body.  I lay there crying about 20 minutes trying to maneuver my body enough so that I could reach the body of pain medication that was in bed with me.  I took the pill and lay there crying until the pain subsided enough for me to reach my phone.  

I wanted to call the ambulance but I know I didn’t have the money to pay for it.  I called my roommate and asked if she would drive me to the emergency room.  It was about 2 am and she basically told me to drive myself.  I just hang up the phone.  I was in too much pain to explain or argue.  I felt like I was dying.  It felt like I was getting stabbed with knives from the inside.  I got up and threw on a jacket.  Yes I still had on my night gown, but thank good it was cute because I didn’t have the energy to find clothes to put on.  It took me about 20 minutes to get to my car from the house.  It was cold and raining but my skin felt very hot.  However, by the time I sat in my car, I was shivering cold.  I live approximately 4.5 miles from the hospital but it took me nearly 30 minutes to drive there.  I was in so much pain, it was raining, and I still had the Lortabs in my system even though they were barely keeping the pain in check.  

By the time I pulled up at the emergency room, I couldn’t even get out of my car.  I called the hospital and had them transfer me to the front desk.  Two nurses came out.  When they opened my car door, I almost fell out.  They couldn’t believe I had driven myself there in that much pain.  I just started to cry.  They helped me into a wheelchair and the male nurse went and parked my car for me.  I pretty much went straight to the back.  I was in so much pain that I couldn’t even stand up to give them a urine sample.  The doctor came in and he was being a total ass to me.  He basically asked me what my condition was then tried to argue with me that what I was saying wasn’t true. Being that I was in so much I pain I basically schooled him about my condition in the nastiest voice ever.  The nurse that was in there was horrified.  He said, “Man, I can’t let her be in pain like this, we have to give her something dude.”  I guess he got ashamed and he suddenly started being nice to me and instructed the nurse to give me morphine.  They set up my IVs and the morphine calmed my pain down enough and I was able to give the urine sample.  The came in and took blood.  I slept a lot.  My temperature was climbing.  They admitted me at about 9am.

By that time my temperature was at 103.7 and climbing.  I was having shivers and chills so bad that the whole bed was shaking.  They gave me something to get it down and I just remember passing out.  When I woke up at around 1pm, I was soaking wet with sweat but my temperature was back to normal.  It was around that third day when I started to feel better.  The doctors told me that I had gotten a dangerous and rare blood infection caused by my skin disorder.  The fifth day they told me I had MRSA.  Everyone that came in my room had to wear these mask and suits.  Nothing could leave my room.  I was considered highly contagious.  They told me that I would have to stay in the hospital for 2 more weeks and that I would have to be on IV antibiotics from home for about 2 to 3 months and that I would need a nurse.  I was devastated.  But the doctors were baffled too.  They said that if I had MRSA, I should have still been feeling very sick but I wasn’t.  I was still weak but not nearly as sick as I was when I came in.

They began testing my blood like crazy and finally they determined that I did not have MRSA and I would be released the next day.  I was so happy.  I celebrated over the phone with my two guy friends, one of which had slept in my room with me for 3 days and the other which kept me company on the phone everyday.  I am forever grateful to them!  Even after that ordeal last month, I am still grateful for how far I have come and how far I plan to go.  Happy anniversary to me!



He didn’t see her. He only saw a woman, lying beneath him, looking wide eyed and innocent, though everything but. He saw ebony skin, curves of her lips, and the familiar scent of sex in the air. In his mind, a different woman than the one laying beneath him, a voice echo through his head. Flashes of her orgasmic moans and harsh words all melded into one. He physically scowls and grunts as he thrust all of his dick into her tight wetness. She cries out in pleasure, pain, surprise… He grips her breast in his large hands, pressing them flat with his grip and weight as he thrust hard again into her body flattening the swollen lips of her pussy. He is punishing her for yells, screams, hurts, pains, tears, and frustrations she never caused. She wraps him with her arms and legs, absorbing him into her. Aware that she is being punished but encouraging him to hurt her more, fuck her harder. She wants his pains and his hurts spilled into her body where they will die and slowly seep from her pussy as he lays sweaty and exhausted on top of her. The tears on her face bring him to reality. He sees her and realizes what she has done for him. He will fuck her and punish her until he loves her. ~The beginning~



Tongues caressing each other, laughing when our teeth click together. Feeling a finger stirring my wetness as you cover my nipple with your mouth. Back arching. Moaning. Fingers digging into your shoulders and back. Twisting fingers in your hair, pulling you towards my face for more kisses. Caressing my cheek and smelling my pussy on your fingers. Covering your body with mine. Nipples grazing your chest every other second because I am already breathless and anticipating you dividing my thighs with your body. Feeling a small pearl of liquid bead at the lips of my pussy and drip to the left. Bending down and sliding my lips across your thickness. Tasting the salty drips on my tongue. Wetting your length with my saliva and hearing you moan as I inhale you. Stopping before you release in my mouth and pulling you on top of me. Parting your lips with my tongue to taste you again and shutter when I feel the head of your dick slide against my clit. Grabbing your dick and rubbing it against my clit. Shuddering and arching my hips up to give you more access to my body. Grabbing your dick from you and looking into your eyes. Guiding you into my wetness. Closing my eyes and savoring every raw inch of you entering my tightness. Moving against each other. Everything is wet. Wet with saliva, sweat, pre cum, and juices from my pussy. Wrapping my legs around your body and crossing my feet across your ass. Pulling you deeper. Feeling all of you. Pain mixed with pleasure. The silky skin of your dick filled with throbbing veins against the tight, pink muscles of my wet pussy. Feeling your dick jerk and throb as it release jets of warm cum deep inside of me as I clinch you in. Feeling your body relax on top of mine. Your dick going soft and slowly sliding out of my messy wetness. Heavy ragged breathing with eyelids to match. We are raw in more ways than one. Our souls are tied in the little death.

Glass Walls


I started to build this wall around my heart not to keep anyone out but to protect what is within. Now that I have started to understand and know the power of my own love, I am amazed and intrigued by it. How consuming and deep it can be and only deserving of a man that can marvel at its beauty along with me. I remember before was I was so immature and irresponsible with my heart. Twisting and turning it in various scar-less and less damaged angles every time a new man came along instead of allowing it to grow and heal in a safe place. Not realizing that turning my damaged areas away from the light prevented the sun from shining it’s healing light on it. I kept twisting and turning it until there was nothing more to twist and turn and my heart became shrouded in darkness. But down there in that darkness, there is no love; going in nor coming out. It’s dead down there. It’s bitter and its cold. I was not in my natural habitat and I didn’t feel like myself anymore. That’s why I built the glass wall. It doesn’t block out the sunlight. Energy flows in and energy flows out but I control it now. I planted seeds and when they sprouted, I used it to love myself. Though the stems are small and the leaves are new, my roots are strong. I remember love. I know love. I aim to be love again one day. And yet I see it rising up me, in my eyes and my smile. My smile. I see it in the curl of my lips and the creases of my dimples. It’s so beautiful. I thought it was gone, but indeed it is here.

Bedroom Bully II


Daddy, don’t just stand there.  I need you to tell me what you what to do.

Place your lips next to my ear so baby can get these instructions from you.

I will stay down here on my knees until you tell me to move. 

Place my eyes on the floor and balance my ass on my legs so smooth.

Daddy don’t make me beg for you to touch my body right.

Rip off my clothes, grab my head, and I will suck your dick all night.

Phone ringing but no interruptions. Daddy this night is all about you.

Stretch my legs, tie up my hair because I got something to prove.

Tie me up, cover my mouth, put your thumb deep in my ass.

Grab my hips, bully my pussy, daddy fuck me like you mad.

I might scream, I might cry, I might run from you too.

Grab me tighter, make me take it, just be muthafucking rude.

Scars 1 Cleonette 0….but fuck it…


Been riding the wave of being me for so long that I think I started to take it for granted.  It all crashed just for a moment….  The confusion, the questions, the eventual abandonment…the scars win again.  I usually have deep, meaningful conversation about who I am, what I have gone through, and life in general before I lay down and give my body to someone.  Men are so rushed to lay you down these days the only information they require is a date, time, and place.  Long drawn out conversations have turned to snippets of life in text.  No intimate, late night phone calls with heavy breathing and whispers.  He just wants the pussy.  The chemistry, the connection, all there.  So caught up in lust.  Never had a chance to slow down and tell him, “Hey, I’m not like the other girls! I have scars that will never go away and more that will come one day.”  He freaked but he still fucked me…  They will still fuck you!!!  Worried messages the next day.  “What is that? What is wrong with you?  Why didn’t you tell me?”  He freaked but he still fucked me…  I told him.  Explained everything away.  I actually didn’t even realize I hadn’t told him.  No one has mentioned my scars since before my surgery.  Or maybe they freaked but still fucked me…  I don’t know.  I don’t define myself by my scars anymore.  I am becoming more me…slowly over time.  Even through my Gemini induced mood swings I am becoming ME.  And it’s kinda beautiful…

I Can’t Even Think of a Fucking Title








I don’t like who I am becoming.  My heart feel like its dying.  It’s different and I barely recognize it for what it has become.  I even wonder if there is even a reason for having a heart any longer.  Should I just become a pussy that happens to be attached to a body?

This darkness closing around me is relaxing and scary too.  I put my feet in and swirl my toes around in it, too afraid to slide my entire body into it’s depths.  I walk around in a thick fog; every now and then I bump into another body that is naked, yearning.  We comfort each other with dry, empty kisses and misshapen touches.  Sexual connections that mean everything but nothing.

I remember love.  The smells, the tastes, the touches, the feels, the sights…  How beautiful it made me feel…how alive….how wanted….how  needed…how confident…  It was like swallowing a drop of forever and feeling it radiate throughout my entire body.  How defeated I was to feel it slowly ebbing out of my body as he filled himself with someone who wasn’t me.   How angry I was at my heart for still loving him. Even as he passed my heart to her and watched her scratch and tear at it with a smile on her face, laughing at my pathetic tears which he drank and became intoxicated by egotism.

Once again I feed off the residue of love that is emotionless sex. Round things in square, foil packs that are supposed to protect me from scary things but leave my heart laying ragged to the left to the scariest things…  So many of us down here scrapping the bottom that we are starting to scrap each other.