The days are never long enough for my lover and I. The minutes go too fast and the hours disappears. The rest of the foolish world thinks time moves too slowBut in each other arms, wicked time moves too fast. When apart, time moves too slowWhen together, it is quick, fleetingand we are force to bow to time once again. Our days together, our time together is never enough. The days are never long enough, The minutes go to f...

Perilous Socks Do you want me to buy you, girly-girl socks? For if I'm not careful, I'll start to buy frocks. Not that it matters or is of alarm, because guys in dresses don’t do any harm.You might think it weird to see me so dressed, but this is what I do to prevent getting stressed. Its never the garb, the dress or the skirt, the brassiere, the panties or even the shirt, Looking so shabby, without form or sheen, its the...

Oh to be on the open road!Amassing the miles with such glee.Forgetting the burdens, the load, And just being happy and free. We love the prairie vast and rife. We love the mountains high and steep. We love the desert full of life. We love the ocean wide and deep. Travels will always be our way To make our lives full and at peace. Travels will always make us stay Young, alive, until our hearts cease. Once more we choose a...

Quietquiet is such a small word in typebut in the world you live in it's hugequiet of your home at 3am quiet of sitting with a cup of tea and dreaming of pretty thingsthese are the best of quietquiet is such a small word in typebut in the world you live in it's hugequiet as rape and murder swirl head hung low don't want to caretelling you it's not your fight quiet is a prison but you can break freethis is the worst of qui...

What will be will be. What will not will not. The past foretells the future. The present is ever lost. Tomorrow we will set out. Tomorrow will send us home. Regrets we have in numbers. Rue the past that's gone. These are merely trifling thoughts. They are never for naught. We'll reach the promised land. Promises will ever be kept. Hold hands until you dream. Hold dear the dreaming time. Let all know your thoughts. Think o...

If my mother were still alive she would be 92 years old, twenty-six years my senior. Every Mother’s Day I fondly remember how well she took care of me. How she cooked and vacuumed and did my laundry and so many other things to keep our household going. If she were still alive I would be doing everything within my power to make sure that we lived together as long as she could still do those basic household chores.It’s funn...

Didn’t see that one coming, nobody did,We just kept on sliding, no end to the skid.Hold on. Just try to hold on,I know things have changed but what's done is done.Try not to be scared, 'cause I will be there,I’m here with you now, please answer my prayer.I can see by your smile that you’re still inside,They say that they're sorry; say that they tried.Fading away, say it’s not trueA lifetime alone, empty of you. I should h...

Journey Underground and The Men of the Mine Grumpy old men on the 4am shift. Would mumble and grumble, till given short shrift. But jokers and jesters and pranksters would then follow, making bitter pills of work, more easier to swallow. We'd cram in the cage like fish in a tin, until they couldn't jam, any more of us in. You’d feel the chocks clunk, away from the keps, hanging in space,and dampening your keks. The bells...

This poem only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.A coffee cup in a coffee shop,Clean white china,Round and perfect."Pick me," it smiles,A wink and clinkA-beckoning the cold travellerWith her scarf hiding her face."I can't afford you, coffee cup,"The weary wandererWhispers through the stripes,And her hand reaches for her little purse.Just a few coins,Just enough,Perhaps,To kiss...

“I feel useless.” “You’re not.” “It doesn’t matter. That’s how I feel.” I wish I was a bicycle. Silly, I know, but think of it. Throw me in the back of the car and take me down to the shop and… “Twenty dollars, she’ll be good as new.” Liar. We tried that. Once you’re broken, no matter how much tinkering, you’re never quite right. The wheel wobbles just a bit. The brake rubs. The kickstand is loose. The tire has a slow lea...

A promise. What is a promise? What does it mean to you? Do you make them? Do you keep them? I think we all do. We all know them. We all make them. We all keep them. But then there is those who make them, and don’t keep them. No matter the reason, they find reasons not to keep them. Sometimes it can be out of their hands, sometimes to just break the promise. I wonder why some people choose to make a promise, no matter if i...

The sky’s blue-gray – opaque and oppressive. The clouds can’t even seem to stand up to it, because they’re ghostly – unreal – their dark bottoms devoured by that steely background. Heh. Have to remember that. Sounds like a good opening for a story. I’ve got a nice view of it, not that I want it. The narrow rock shelf I’m lying on doesn’t give me much else to look at, other than the crumbled remains of the significantly na...

This work within its first few lines contains language or other material which some readers may find offensive. In consideration, Stories Space has hidden the preview of this selection. By choosing to view the piece in its entirety, you agree that you are 18 or older and do not object to such content.  His fists came down on me again as his words cut into my mask. Bitch, he called me. Whore, he said. Good-for-nothing cunt...

Would he never leave me alone? Could I live my life with him near? Should he always be in my zone? Must I learn to accept him here? He'll never be lost from me though, This boil on my being, this toad. His works are well loved, to my woe,  I hear of them, I bear this load. The past is the past we are told, And cannot be changed to this day. I was not proud or so bold As to think he'd not have his way. He is ever my hobgob...

I, as Teishu, invite him in  to our tea house for chanoyu slide the newly papered shojis  leftward two thirds, with the left and the remainder with my right hand having prepared already  the zen garden outside carefully raking the sands in waves  breaking 'round each island itself a cleansing, calming act a light course of stone soup, made in advance have swept the heavy cedar beams and steps and bathed in deep hot spring...