FireSoulPhoenix

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Frig me in the arse!"
It was a dark and horny night in the garden, and the rhododendron creeping up the sides of the gazebo trembled in the breeze as she came.  He finished shortly after her and the two lovers collapsed panting beside each other on the wool blanket they had laid out for that very occasion.  They lay in their supine state for a bit, sliding their fingers along each other's spines with the content expressions of settled lovers.
"It's so hot for Dublin night," she said, interrupting the stillness.
"Hot like my prick?" he responded.
"Hah. You're so crude.  Any other lowly chambermaid wouldn't give you the time of day."
"You're not just any chambermaid.  You're the most exquisite chambermaid in all of Ireland, and the only one with a talent to make my heart flutter like a Painted Lady when it is near yours."
She laughed an angel's laugh and rolled on her back, throwing her arm over his chest.  "You know it's been exactly year since we first met.  June of last y

When they met on Topless Tequila Tuesday, he asked her if she wanted to be his beer pong partner.  She smiled and said sure, but she had to go back to her dorm room soon to study for an exam the next morning.  He said that was cool; he himself had taken extra precaution to not schedule any classes before noon. She was in the pre-med program. He was studying business.
They both eventually graduated.  
She was accepted to a third-rate med school. She took the offer with great enthusiasm. But after performing several prostate exams and learning that a three-year residency was the same thing as indentured servitude, she moved back in with her parents to save money. She found out that she could made a decent living wage as a bartender.  
After graduation, he tried some entrepreneurial endeavors, like managing a regional high-end knife chain that hired college kids to sell the products to their own parents.  But after realizing that these businesses were essnetially modified pyramid schemes,

I think it's hot when strippers cry on their master's
degrees, when meteorologists make innuendos
when your mother pretends to be Jewish.
Sometimes I wish I had synesthesia
so I could palpate youtube's
myriad turtle sex clips with my retinas
though I wish there was more to do
on a Friday night than watching
ugly animals fuck online.
I have a Dukakis sticker on my teenage
mutant ninja turtles lunchbox from 88'
It's currently filled with positive
pregnancy tests, disposable cell phones
and a picture of your mother.
Love insurance premiums:  $99.99 a month!
Good student discounts. Press 1 for more options.
It's like that time I asked why she didn't
love me anymore and she replied
"supply side economics."
I told her her metaphor sucked;
our relationship had too many uncertainty principles
to be graphed criss-cross on an X and Y axis,
We were more like 2 out of sync sine waves reaching for infinity
until the tequila ran out.
Para continuar en las lenguas románticas

1.
that girl in pigtails
i sat next to second grade
later fucked the mayor
when scandal rocked the town
she hung herself with electrical cords
he was quoted as saying said she was shocking in bed.
2.
my senior year class president died
trying to invent the cure for cancer.
he tested on himself instead of rats.
3.
my eighth grade biology teacher
needed money for grad school
so she robbed a bank
but decided to leave
a pair of panties at
the crime scene
4.
my mother set all three of my schools on fires
she said that education made me
an anarchist homosexual son
and she how she hated to learn
the truth

of all the words and orders
in the world I chose
the final ones
carefully
a teacup balancing on the nose of a dolphin
that grew legs and is biking uphill drunk
a cardboard countertop is where we count
our daily rations.  the cat-eyed clock says “look
at me, I’m vintage” and brilliance erupts
betwixt the bullshit.
crystal meth in the morning. xanny bars at night.
love love love love love love love love love
your pituitary gland
your 401(k) plan
your mother
these are nights we failed to live they’ll say
yeah?  and these the nights you failed you shut up
whores.  all of you.

I left my shadow
swinging on your bed
the one that bet upon
our love and lost
the nights where words long said,
meek and soft, lie dead and hope
finds fear in a handful of lust.
for these are not words we speak—
these ebbs along our ribs,
hallowed and sacrilege—
just interjections, enjambed
upon the line breaks of our lives,
an absence of warmth,
grace, or anything of relevance
in an age
built upon
escaping reality.
silently we feed;
cold-blooded and hot-hearted,
we taste the night in palms;
you
deign to smile while I pulse
in time with irony
and vicissitude lost,
I fail the standards
I never knew I had.
tomorrow, the morning
will rise reluctantly
in a belly-dancing howl
of a post-equinox swirl;
tonight, I fold
outside your cellar door.
dear darling, the walls are made of glass
and the centre cannot hold;
the world collapses in sheets and riddles
and I continue to ask for answers
I know you cannot give.

Same Sex Marriage:  Why Are We Still Arguing?
Perhaps it is the irony of a half-naked man in fairy wings parading the streets of San Francisco claiming he’s just like everyone else.  Perhaps, Congress, full of disgruntled men sympathetic to Senator Larry Craig and unable to exercise their public restroom fantasies, exude their anger by passing constitutional amendments barring same-sex couples from marriage.   Americans, quite vehemently, are still bickering about what should be done with what President Bush has called “the most fundamental institution of civilization.”
But what exactly do gay people want and why are their opponents so intent on denying it to them?  Libertarian journalist and gay-rights proponent, Andrew Sullivan, says he wants the right to marriage, “a lifetime legal commitment between two unrelated, consenting adults to take responsibility for each other (and their children, if any) and to share their l