When you are in the Amazon,

You have to know,

Which way to turn

Which way to go.

If you have to go in, you have to go deep;

If you just scour the edges, what rewards will you reap?

The beast comes out when it is wet,

But you can only win then,

On that I will bet.

Be decisive and quick

Speak seldom and carry no stick.

The amazon is repulsed by weapons that naturally grow;

If you carry a stick you may as well go.

Better to use even just your hands,

Than carry a stick in these lands.

The stick, the sword, any melee,

The Amazon’s beast will make go away.

Bring specialized weapons to fight it’s fury

But if your hands are skilled, have no worry.

Feed the beast’s hunger with your hand’s thrust.

Be hard, be firm, be just.

If the Amazon throws at you a vine,

Then you can surely find,

If you use your mind,

A way to bind,

The beast’s wild attempts to halt you.

Don’t let the Amazon take control

Take charge and you can sooth her savage soul.

But don’t fool your heart.

She will not be tamed.

Anyone who tried would sooner be maimed

Than her heart allow her to be owned or claimed.

lying in you bed
watching the sleepless hours tick past
the red clock glow on the ceiling
the thin green line that marks the curve of your wrist
lets me know your there
my fingers lightly dancing upon your arm, your breast
the sudden release of passion in that first kiss
forceful, primal, succulent
that, sweet love of mine, was heaven
the way our bodies moved
frenzied and clumsy
with newborn passion

Hell

Hell is heaven turned sour,
stale
it’s my bed empty
because your gracing
some other lover
with your presence
while I’m left
trying to remember
what you felt like
what you smelled like
what you tasted like
Hell is losing you the bitch
that left you bleeding and broken

why you can’t love me

the way i love you

you gave of yourself

till nothing was left

and she drained you

of your being, your life

and so here we are

i have a choice

build you back

or lose you

pierced the window with

heavy lidded eyes of fire

but you were not among them

for your eyes are deep like the ocean

It is that ocean that I long for now

the fire in their eyes burns my soul

as I search for the comfort of your embrace

only to find some past lover in my place

The box was almost full and the dresser only half packed. It had been six months since the “accident”. Zoe had left her six months ago and now that her lease was up, she was forced to look back on all their memories together. She lifted a bundle of love notes from high school. They were from when they first started flirting. Zoe always perfumed her letters and they still smelled of lemongrass. Hot tears flooded her eyes and rolled down hills of her cheeks. This was all her fault. Zoe would still be here loving her if they hadn’t of been fighting that night. She couldn’t even remember what the fight was about. She just remembers getting pissed and driving off. After driving through the mountains for while, she returned home to find her beloved on the couch, breathless and without a heartbeat. She blamed herself for leaving. If she had stayed home then she could have saved her, helped her. She couldn’t believe that she would never again feel Zoe’s lips beneath hers or feel tender nibbles nip at her flesh. She would never hold her tight during the scary parts of movies or cuddle under blankets in the dead of winter. Six years of her life was spent with Zoe at her side and she wasn’t sure if she could make it with out her, especially since it was her fault she was gone.

She snapped out of her recollections. Her lease, their lease, was up tomorrow and she was moving to Seattle to start grad school. She had to finish packing tonight, but first the bathroom beckoned. Upon returning to dresser she noticed the well-worn edge of a note taped the mirror. She released the thick bundle of paper from its cobweb prison. It smelled of lemongrass as she opened it. Scrawled in her lover’s delicate yet almost illegible handwriting was a note dated January 5th. The night of the fight. The night she lost Zoe. The tears didn’t stop. They got worse. Her face got red and hot with emotion. Through blurry eyes she read the note.

Dear Olivia,

When you read this I’ll be gone, but I want you to know that it’s not your fault and I’m sorry I have to leave you to the mercies of this world alone. I love you very much and I always will, but I can’t deal with myself anymore. I’m going crazy and I can’t bear to see what it’s doing you, to us. I can’t ask you to live with me anymore. It’s just not fair to expect you to be able to deal with my insanity when I can’t myself….

….Just remember that I love you, Liv. I never stopped loving you and you did nothing wrong. You loved me and comforted me. You did the best you could. I don’t blame you for anything and I’m sorry that it must end like this.

your dearly beloved,

Zoe

your breath is in my ear
your fingers on the curve
of my hips narrating every
moan, shriek and giggle
that escapes my lips to
flutter into your ear urging
you on until the deed is shared

shared like the bed we lay on
wrapped around one another
in a tangle of sheets
the smell of you so sweet
its honey on my tongue
on my mind, in my soul
driving me towards your energy

your energy that flows with mine
and pools in the wrinkled sheets
the wrinkled sheets of the bed
the bed we’ve shared and tainted
with the scent of our passion
our passion so strong it left me
breathless

I want to wake up beside you
and hear your raspy voice in the morn

I want to kiss you tenderly
and feel the brush of your lips on mine

I want to lie with you
and be sheltered by your arms in the night

I want to adventure with you
and laugh our way through unknown places

I want to love you girl
but I need you to love me too

till dawn breaks the horizon

take shelter in your soul and

listen to your melody

I ache for your touch

fingertips barely grazing

skin creating electric

storms along my spine

Your scent still lingers

here refreshed by every

visit no matter how swift

or blissfully long

I want to wake up to

your hair tangled in mine

our bodies knotted ’round

each other’s soul

So what does this have to do with sexuality and gender? Well, after they had thoroughly fried my neurons, one friend said “Sometimes I get hungry in class, but, I don’t have any food. So, I shoot up heroin instead.” My head is propped up on my cup and my other friend just starts laughing.

I’m left thinking “….But heroin and food aren’t substitutes….”

So the first friend refills her root beer and puts the analogy in terms I can understand. “Sometimes I feel the need to knit, but, I don’t have my knitting supplies with me. So, I tie my shoelaces instead.”

To which I reply “But it doesn’t work that way!”

The previously laughing friend says “That’s the point. It’s a very direct analogy. Knitting is girls and shoelaces are boys.”

“Oh…in that case it works for me!” I said as my two lesbian companions shook their heads.

The moral of the story is that you should never ever hang out with facetious people who like to mess with other people’s brains at one in the morning.

The story is pertinent because it shows the difference in the way people see gender based upon their place on the sexuality spectrum. As I stated earlier my companions were (and still are) lesbians. I am a pansexual, which the American Collegiate Dictionary defines as “relating to, having, or open to sexual activity of many kinds”. This definition is rather impersonal and not very useful at all, however wikipedia has an excellent article on pansexuality if you feel like investigating further, also you could ask yet another friend of mine who would tell you that I am only sexually interested in pans. And yes, he does mean a frying pan…the one setting on your stove. Anyways, back on topic! So, I am a pansexual and a lesbian. This is the part where most people’s mind explodes, so if you need sometime to scrape brains off the floor, please do so now.

Most people say that I can’t be both pansexual and lesbian. I disagree…obviously. I am sexually a pansexual and culturally a lesbian. Why? Because there is not a middle-team or bi or pan culture. There is gay culture and there is it’s absense and that is all. Not even the straight people have a culture to call their own, it is simply a lack of gay that makes it straight. What’s the difference in a gay bar and a straight bar? Nothing, except the gay bar has rainbows.

Although I am pansexual and ultimately gender and sex don’t matter to me I find that I am more willing to have relationships with women. I am not sure if this is more due to preference or socialization but I know that is puts a toll on the guys I like. Those guys are mostly really adorkable nerdy or geeky guys. Most are heterosexual and they all have varying degrees of familiarity with gay and lesbian culture. This culture barrier makes it hard to explain to them my sexuality and to some degree my gender simply because both are fluid. My sexuality is significantly more fluid than my gender, however, gender is still somewhat fluid. Molasses comes to mind when thinking about the fluidity of my gender. My sexuality is more like water in terms of viscosity.  I would absolutely love to finish this topic now, however I have class in 24 minutes and I am not dressed yet and the post is already 716 words.

Peace out!