Sometimes I write just for the hell of it.

Atop the fence she sat; A temporary feeling of invincibility running through her veins. The outdoor speakers from the dive bar blasting a familiar song. She takes a draw off of her cigarette in between breathlessly muttered lyrics. A quick scan of her surroundings brought her to the realization that she was not the only one singing along under her breath. Is this what they call a "moment"?

She considered throwing herself backwards off of the fence. Just high enough to hurt, not high enough to injure. Maybe her skull would crack if she pushed off with enough force. Maybe they would need to call an ambulance. Maybe someone would notice her, for once.

"I feel so alone right now" She thought to herself, snapping out of whatever daze she was in.

Her friends, assuming she could call them that, were still singing along to the soundtrack of the night. A cold tear streamed down her cheek, or was it raining? She couldn't tell sometimes. One of her friends offered to fill her glass back up.

Countless beers and innumerable morbid thoughts later she decided it best to leave her car in the parking lot and stay the night at a friend's place down the street.

A group of them arrived in the shared townhouse. The one with red walls that extracted the deepest, darkest feelings out of those who stood between them.

It was raining again, inside, selectively located on her face. Or was she crying? Upset about what was being left behind. Damn those red walls.

Everyone else had retired to bed, to fuck their lover, to sleep the drunk off, to create something beautiful that may never be understood; Everyone except him. He sat with her while she cried, he held her and told her she was beautiful. He asked her to get another beer out of the fridge for them to share.

While reaching in to the fridge he crept up from behind and pulled her panties down from underneath her dress. The blue and red panties that were her favourite. The ones that, up until this night, she had considered lucky.

It's okay, she thought. They were friends, he was drunk. "It's okay", she told herself over and over again.

Maybe someday she'll convince herself.

Masturbation Gone Green!

Finalement!

We have recycling programs for grocery bags, batteries, paint, cell phones and most anything imaginable. With a little motivation one can find recycling depots for just about everything... but what to do with those old sex toys?

Now there's a recycling program for those too! Simply ship your toys to:

Dreamscapes Recycling Program
5450 Bruce B Downs Blvd #366
Wesley Chapel, FL 33544

Once received, your no longer loved toys are dismantled and it's parts are sent to the appropriate recycling plants. They even recycle batteries!

Include your email address with your package to receive a $10 gift card for one of Dreamscape's affiliate retailers.

For complete info, please visit Dreamspaces Recycling Program's website

They say that the colour green makes you horny... could "going green" have the same effect?