Hello, check out my poetry as well.

Hi Hi! Thanks for stoppin by and for the comments and such!

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"Real loss can only be felt when you lose something that touches your soul."

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One Word Photo And SO-HOT

Time travels to a new destination
Undetermined, except by revelation
To us, He wakes and pulls us closer
Shaking beneath the moon and the slaughter
Blood on the cement and surrounding extensions
The sacrifice gives us a little longer

Soon to sleep, we shall go
He has come in through the door
Down the staircase up to the clouds
Endless ceiling in the sky that allows us to pray
Here is to the Holy Man of the Creator

thanks for the fav

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Come out to play in my Atomic Garden ~ A_@
well sir i dont mean to toot my own horn but i used to be the biggest idiot in high school. THats me in the corner in the spot light loosing my religion.

Elle flipped back her strawberry-blonde tresses. As if this was her movie moment, she stared up at the sunshine while running her long red fingertips through her shiny hair. She pulled off her rose-colored glasses. Her full mouth dropped open as she sucked on the string attached to the glasses. Her beauty was striking. Too bad for her habit of biting her nails, which cracked and bled on a regular basis. She ate the polish, too. Her attempts at quitting by using polish hadn't worked.

The blatantly sexual lyrics of 'Nine Inch Nails' pounded against my flesh. I felt that I was caught up in some cynically violent mesh of reality and the fantasies of the lead singer. Though Elle had promised me never to listen to the band again, she had relented. Alex was driving her car to Money Mart, so she had full access to the cassette deck.

Instead of the usual alternations between gangster rap, Rod Stewart and alternative rock, we were driving down Lakeshore towards the downtown with Trent Reznor having an orgiastic personal breakdown.

We had left the windows open because of the heat, so all the pedestrians and other drivers could hear the ordeal firsthand.
The heavy, grinding beat of the music was wearing me down along with the heat. Of course, Elle cranked up the volume to full blast. I felt like I was at a 'Who's on Bass?' pub jam. Though the idea of having sex with Trent Reznor hadn't ever crossed my mind, I felt like I was part of the band's orgy right there. Just as I was wishing for her to take out the tape she was addicted to, the curse of the tape deck set in. My little black magic voodoo wish had worked. A loud crunch echoed against the fading music as the cassette got devoured by the deck.


As the early evening sun beat down on her skin, she watched the tape deck devour then spit out the cassette. Alex had shown up at the park just as Elle was pulling out onto the road. He couldn't wait to see us, apparently. I think it was because he wanted to drive Elle's car instead of waiting at Money Mart. He was in love with her red Taurus and having had his license suspended, he couldn't drive his own car.

Elle let him get away with driving hers and he loved the route along the beach. Since Alex needed to go up to North Glenmore to pick up a parcel of some sort at the elementary school, he offered to talk to us before dinner at the pub. Fascinated by the grinding noise, Elle observed the destruction of the tape for a moment as 'Nine Inch Nails' disappeared out of the atmosphere. Then she reached over with her right hand and forced the tape deck all the way open from its halfway position.

"This tape deck is good for the garbage, Alex. Now my 'Nine Inch Nails' tape is destroyed," she lamented. Tears started streaming down her face as her red cheeks swelled.

Attempts at covering up her sunburn with calamine lotion and Mary Kay foundation had failed miserably. She looked like a ghost with red cheeks. The chalkiness of the calamine lotion sat on top of the pancake makeup she'd piled on all over her nose and cheeks.

Alex stared blankly at the cassette she was holding up in her left hand. He looked slightly flabbergasted, as if he had no idea whatsoever why that happened. The tape deck made a habit of churning cream into butter. Unfortunately for Elle, she kept shoving new tapes back into the tape deck. With his birthday coming up anyways, I didn't understand why she refused to purchase a compact disc player as a gift. Then she wouldn't have to watch her tapes get destroyed.

She started sobbing and whined. "We'll have to stop by the mall," she insisted. "I can buy a new copy there." Tears streamed down her face as droplets of lotions fell into her hand. She just looked awful and I wanted to clean her up but what could I do in the car?

"Are you sure? I need a Tim Hortons fix. I really need to go to the bathroom as well. And I'm starting to get a headache from the lack of caffeine and sugar. You know I hate taking aspirin because of the taste, so unless you wanted to buy the flavored baby aspirin and some apple sauce or yogurt. Then you can crush them and feed them to me. Otherwise, we have to go to Tim Hortons, okay?" Alex moaned in a melancholy tone.

"You need what, Alex?" I questioned, rising out of my seat for this one. Alex was in his early twenties, but he was still a Mama's boy. He needed her to crush his pills into aspirin. Since he was a complete caffeine addict, he would get headaches from lack of consumption. The heat beating down on us factored into how he felt as well. I was starting to get dehydrated.

"Oh! Alexander! Don't be such a baby! No wonder you still live in Dilworth with your mother! You Mama's boy! God knows she got a good divorce settlement, that woman! Is that why you live with her?" Elle yelled out.

"No, it isn't. She needs my emotional support. I want to make sure she doesn't finish the Scotch collection downstairs. I've been trying to convince her that vodka is better. The hangovers aren't as extreme," he pleaded with her.

"It's not because of the college expenses?" I questioned him. He had been attending photography classes on a part-time basis. The course fees were expensive enough, but the cost of the supplies was astronomical.

Alex drove into the left turn lane at Highway 97 and Pandosy Street. He said nothing while waiting for a break in traffic. Lakeshore Drive had turned into Pandosy Street at some point in the Mission, but I always forgot because I wasn't from this district. Elle lived down in the Guisachan area part of the time with her parents, and the rest of the time with Doberman at his Pacific Avenue basement suite. His welfare checks paid for his room. Elle insisted that he had three different claims going at the same time, so that he could avoid work and devote himself to his DJ aspirations.

So far, Elle had managed to keep Doberman and Alex away from each other. Alex really didn't care about sharing Elle because they had made a deal. He wouldn't be obligated to support her financially so they could have an open relationship. I don't know if he was seeing anyone on the side. Given Elle's taste in various boyfriends over the years, he might be seeing another man.

Alex simply didn't want the stupidity of Doberman in his face. Doberman had fathered four kids out of wedlock. He was banned from any form of visitation by a court order. Since he had neglected to pay any form of child support, the court system inferred that he was a useless-to-society type. He had gone on welfare to avoid the court-ordered payments to his ex-girlfriends.


Having heard about this through the grapevine, Elle nevertheless decided to check on the situation with the girls. Just to be fair, she decided to pay a visit to the girls. She had gone to visit them at the trailer park and after a full tour of their dwellings, she had concurred that they were interested in taking care of their children and not funding their supposed drug habits.

Nobody could substantiate their claims of the girls being drug addicts and Elle felt like giving them the benefit of the doubt.
This called to question Doberman's claim of their wanting his money for drugs and alcohol. I don't think he should've been excused from his payments, but he signed away his claim to custody in exchange for their dropping their support claims. That was why I didn't believe the women were crack addicts. If they were, they could lose their children. We really knew nothing about the situation, anyway.

Elle told me later that she didn't care about the child support. Apparently, they were filing for alimony when none of the girls had lived with Doberman. She said that they tricked him into becoming a father by lying about their intake of the pill on a daily basis. How anyone would ever know was anyone's guess. Men sometimes used that argument to avoid having to pay alimony and child support. Then again, Elle could be right. She was the only one to go down and visit the girls. I didn't really care since I worried more about how her boyfriends treated her, though I couldn't perform the balancing act of an acrobat without a safety net when it came to love. She was attempting to do that with her two boyfriends.

She had moved out of her garage apartment in North Glenmore after her gay artist boyfriend, Donovan, left her for another man. He had been sleeping with Mike, the same guy Elle had been cheating on him with. Apparently, they had had a few threesomes, but Elle refused to confirm or deny this while sober. Funnily enough, she told me one night when she was sitting on my lap while drunk and stoned. My boyfriend Andrew was driving us around the Rutland area. We always drove around the suburbs when we were bored. Back then, gas was cheap. The price had been going up and up the last few months, so we were making Elle pay for the gas. She was the one who got us doing this initially, anyway.

As Alex turned onto the highway, Elle grew impatient. She decided to break the impending doom of silence that forced each of us to feel awkward. We were always bouncing ideas off each other. Normally, our vibrations weren't stilted by a lack of progress. The energy was good between us.

"Andrew! Stop ignoring me! I can't stand to deal with this. You're so petulant sometimes if I ask you why you don't do things the proper way. Now let's go to Money Mart for Stephanie!" she sneered at him.

Alex turned into the parking lot of Money Mart. Elle pointed out that his precious Tim Hortons was just to the right. He completely forgot about how annoying she was being and got out of the car. Without saying anything, he headed over to the fast food outlet for coffee. Elle forced open the passenger door and hopped out. Mr. Cool was in his basket on the floor. She lifted him up and placed him on her seat.

"There's no way I can go through life without listening to 'The Downward Spiral'! After you're done, I want to go to the music store at the mall. Hurry up, will you!" she continued on her rant.

As I headed out of the car, Elle searched for her keys. She found them and then locked all the doors. Then she continued fumbling through her purse for something else. I was always fascinated by the constant change in items in her purse. Elle was a great collector of items and she items stored up in boxes in the basements of her condo and beachfront property.

"Oh, well. I probably do have some money. Let me dig through this old purse," she responded with an upbeat tone, while continuing to rummage through every pocket. She was certain that she had placed some additional change in there somewhere.

Her hands started digging through her large purse. She pulled out a twenty in one hand and a collection of dimes, loonies and quarters in another. Convinced that there was more money in there, Elle dug in deep to the bottom and felt around. She then decided to dump out all the contents by shaking the bag up and down.

An interesting and humorous assortment of items fell out of the bag. She was the same way with her purse, which was the size of a tote bag. Chocolate-flavored condoms along with the glow-in-the-dark variety, several balloons, three rolled joints, a bag of several hundred pennies, five unused razors, a can of shaving cream, a bottle of calamine lotion, birth control pills, blue lipstick, black polish, and five smashed-up cassettes fell out of the bag. Her identification stuck to the bottom of the leather interior.

As I observed Elle with her odd collection of items in the middle of the parking lot, I couldn't help but break out into hysterical laughter. She was holding up traffic by sorting through her purse right on the ground. Several cars started honking behind her and a redneck motioned her to move out of the way of his truck. Elle ignored them and continued shaking out her purse in futile hopes of finding more money. She had said that she didn't have any and was fortunate enough to be wrong.

Heading for the curb, I went inside with my check and had it cashed. When I returned from the store, Elle was standing beside the vehicle. The mess on the ground had been shoved back into her purse. Fortunately, I had missed any confrontation with the group of angry drivers who had waited behind her. She watched as Alex headed back her way, empty-handed. I walked up to her and waited with her till he reached us.

"Too busy," he said in a straightforward fashion. He raised his hands up in the air while raising his eyebrows. There was a lineup out the door, as usual. He would've ended up waiting thirty minutes for a cup of coffee if he had stood with them.

"Oh, let's go to 7-Eleven then. The traffic today is too heavy. Sorry. Let's head down Bernard towards Gordon," she said in a submissive tone.

Elle went around the car and unlocked all the doors. Alex opened the driver' s door and sat down. He turned on the ignition and motioned for us to enter. Elle insisted on having two sets of keys. Alex had a bad habit of locking himself out of her vehicle, so now he was only allowed to drive when she was in his company. The last time, he had smashed the window in and the police had come. They were planning on charging him with damage to the vehicle and attempted grand theft auto.

He was hauled off to jail and managed to make a phone call to Elle. She came down with the family lawyer and $500 for bail. She dragged him out and negotiated with the police to drop the charges. They had wanted to charge him anyway but Elle's lawyer managed to squeeze him out of that sticky situation.

We got back into the vehicle. Alex quickly sped off down the highway towards Gordon. He ignored Elle's suggestion to go back onto Bernard. As we sat in silence, Elle pulled out the five damaged cassettes. She sighed and turned around to me.

"I guess these go to the box. I hate giving them up to anyone. If they fix them, I will have lost out on my tapes," she lamented as she passed me the tapes to look over.
Two albums by 'Nine Inch Nails', one by 'Rod Stewart', and two by a supposed Satanist named 'King Diamond'. They had all been destroyed by her cassette tape deck. I was thankful about Nine Inch Nails and wouldn't miss Rod Stewart. I thought the Satanist was hokey-pokey the same way that Fleetwood Mac was hippy-dippy.

Satanism as a claim to fame was cheesy. The cassette deck made a habit of destroying tapes by artists I didn't like. We had nicknamed it 'The Crusher'. I still hadn't figured out why Elle hadn't replaced it with a CD player.

"You can throw these into your box of ruined cassettes and hope that you’ll find a way to repair them, but I don't think you should bother, Elle," I told her as I looked over the crushed collection that was headed for storage in the box.

Elle gave me a questioning look. I contemplated what to do. Since we were going towards 7-Eleven anyway, I figured she could toss them out there. Maybe the cashier would take them. She clearly didn't want to part with them, though. This was going to take a little convincing.

"Throw them in the garbage at 7-Eleven, okay? You won't fix them. You haven't fixed any of them, now have you?" I insisted as we approached the intersection at Highway 97 and Gordon.

Alex turned left onto Gordon and went up one intersection. Then he turned onto a side street and went around the back of the building where 7-Eleven was. He parked in front of an undercover cop posing as a prostitute. They usually pretended that they were oblivious. However, most of the hookers downtown worked out of a certain Inn. The streetwalkers wore sixties style skirts with fishnet stockings and thick-heeled black boots. Sometimes, they appeared late at night in jeans with high heels and leather jackets. Few of them wore any makeup or wigs.

This undercover cop appeared in blue spandex with a see-through top. She wore a red leather bustier underneath. Legwarmers on top of stilettos completed the outfit. As for her hair, she had a frizzy yellow-orange wig on with about three inches of makeup. Black and blue eye makeup with false eyelashes, coral blush and dark purple lipstick finished her off.
Alex went inside for a coffee. Elle, oblivious to the undercover cop, took back her collection of smashed-up cassettes. Too lazy to get out of the car, she decided to ask the lady at the corner.

"Hey! Lady! Could you do me a favor? Since you're standing right there, can you take this these cassettes and dump them in the garbage for me? I'd do it myself by I have heat exhaustion and shouldn't stand up without help. My boyfriend is in the store, making a cup of coffee. Do you mind?" Elle pleaded with the undercover cop. She was leaning over the side of the open window while fluttering her eyelashes and smiling innocently.

"Look, that's not my job, okay? Now go and do that yourself!" the undercover cop shouted at her, while standing on the curb. Elle leaned over the side of the car, trying to reach her. The undercover cop shooed Elle away from her.

"Gee, you're not a very nice hooker! What's the big deal, anyway?" she insisted, as she handed her the collection of cassettes.

"Look, young lady! I'm working, so donâ't blow it for me. You're distracting the customers, you see!" the undercover cop yelled at her.

"Well, why don't you go downtown instead? You're closer to the wealthy clientele. There are more tourists there and the twenty-something boys head for the clubs at night!" Elle suggested in hopes of calming her down.

Andrew had been watching from the counter. He surmised that she was a prostitute but didn't seem to clue in on her status as an undercover cop. The whole situation was so obvious to me, I just couldn't figure out what it wasn't so apparent to them. I decided to stay out of the matter, so I said nothing at all during the verbal exchange.

"Andrew, this lady needs a ride downtown. She can't do her business here. She says that we're disturbing her. Anyway, can you take these cassettes?"
Elle pleaded with him as he approached the car.

Andrew scooped the cassettes out of her hand and passed them to the undercover cop instead of walking over the garbage can. Angrily, the undercover cop dumped them into the container. She then walked up to Andrew and sneered at him haughtily. The attitude of this girl was steadily worsening. I started thinking that we should leave.

"You know, we could give you a ride if you like," Andrew suggested innocently. She gave him no answer, so he just shrugged and got into the vehicle.

"Look, for your trouble, why don't I give you a little something? I appreciate you throwing those out for us, thanks!" Elle cooed at the undercover cop.

Elle pulled out a joint. She was going to offer it to the cop. She was absolutely convinced that she was a hooker and would appreciate any high she could get her hands one. Cops preferred donuts and coffee, anyway, so she was just asking to have her butt hauled down to the police station. Elle would look funny, being dragged to the downtown station by a cop dressed like a cross between a hooker, Marilyn Manson and a groupie out of a Poison video.

Only this hooker was not the usual one that hung out at the convenience store looking for prospective buyers. The real ones didn't dress like groupies out of the eighties to begin with. This one was obviously an undercover cop. After all, the girls usually hung around the back of the store beside the naturopathic clinic and the hair salon. The old video store owner instructed them to stop scaring away his family-oriented customers, so they started going around back. Besides, I don't recall hookers selling their goods at six-thirty in the afternoon. They could usually be found there after nine in the evening.

Reaching over the bucket seat, I grabbed Elle's hand. I tried to do it as gently as possibly could. As I placed my hand over hers, she got the wrong idea and thought I was hitting on her. Elle had been trying to get me in the sack for years. She tried sitting on my lap at bars and whenever I slept over, she invited me into her bed. The fact that I was a very straight girl didn't seem to dawn on her. Now she thought I was making a move at last. So she started caressing my hands and playing with my fingertips.

"Would you like a little something to get you through the day? I mean, I have a supply, you know. I know the best ones," she mumbled as her cheeks started getting redder.

"What are you talking about, you idiot? Can't you see I'm trying to work here? I don't get paid to catch these suckers because it's safe and it's fun!" the undercover cop screamed at her.

She headed towards the vehicle with a horrified look on her face. She started turning red and pulled on the passenger door, which Elle had locked. Elle quickly rolled up the windows and slammed the cop's hand in the crack. She slapped the cop's hand and pulled open the window slightly, just enough to release her.

Suddenly, Elle clued in. She was completely embarrassed. She dropped the joint out of her hand. The joint fell to the floor. I don't think the cop caught her doing that. She was too busy swearing and yelling. She hadn't pulled out a gun or a badge yet, so if we were caught, we could argue that it was entrapment and that we didn't proposition her. Of course, the cop could argue that we did and press charges because she thought we were harassing her. Immediately, Alex got the idea. He had been acting like he had just gained consciousness.

Before Elle could worsen the situation, he pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the highway. We were now headed for the warehouse for our discussion. Alex just had to pick up that parcel first. Elle and I braced ourselves for whatever was next.

WOW! Thanks for the devwatch!!!!

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:: BadRomeo ::

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Turn away,
from revenge against the uprising.
Run against,
the fall of the Empire.
Let the salty waves redeem you.

The oceantide inland falls,
below the plains, down to the badlands,
beyond to the bay where lightning strikes.
There is no sound unless a tree falls
in the forest, and somebody's around.

I must move on, I miss my wandering.
Though, I miss another home, no place for settling.

There was water in the well,
taken away without a dry spell.
Blame, play the game, to blame? To blame?
Wishing the war game?

There was once water in the well,
the supply was cut off.
At the height of summer, with the desert,
water in the well glistened beneath the
desert sunrays, reflecting the copper
canyon's image.

The sunset dawned the eve of night
as he looked down upon himself.
The last flecks of sunlight blazed behind
his head.

thanks for putting me on freinds list

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i everything