"Yes, Master".

Rolling on the floor, however I pleased
Knelt down and wacked till he came
All because I made him do it.

He called me "master" cuz I asked it.

Hell, would'va painted and licked my toenails clean if I asked it.

The first Afroman I ever met who'd beg for me to rule him.

Hmmm... that power!

That shit was worth more than money.

My slave... done up... and got its own mind.
My slave... done run... and made me "just me".

I master no more, I, have become the slave.
enslaved to the thoughts of he that was mine to rule.

I tell you, the slave now made the rules.

Another flip of that page in my book.

hey! let it not ever be said that I have not lived.
I certainly have lived.
I once owned a slave.

This is Truth's uterus.

I've always known that I do not have to have kids.
Once I grew well enough to know that I had rights and that the status quo is only so till you change it, I fell in love with the idea of challenging the world on its presumed right to my womb.
It is within me. I own this. This uterus, has my name on it.

My body, my cervix, my eggs, my choice.

Simply put, I was not having anyone tell me what to do with my vag.
Armed with that knowledge, and the recognition that love is love regardless who it is bestowed upon or who gives it; I decided on adoption.

Then sometime when I was a teen, I saw a TV show about a family with several adopted kids from different ethnic backgrounds. The idea of rearing kids from different races appealed to me. I fell in love with the whole theme. I decided then, that I'd have seven kids; adopted from different races.

Years later, I realize what I had fallen in love with is what the family symbolized; unity. The idea of having the whole world represented under your roof, living as a family; gave me a little reassurance that it may be possible to achieve unity in this world of ours.

Truth is, adopted or not, I dont think I want any kids to share my time with. I am selfish. Yes, selfish. I dont want to share my wealth, my time, my space with kids.
Though (now am about to sound really confused) the idea of having a person who looks like we who i can teach my ideals, is really appealing. I feel like deciding to not have kids would be a poor idea because it would be a loss to this world that someone who has my ideals (yeah, am about to sound really proud) isnt going to procreate. I mean...

Taboo.

Never revisit your one night stand. You just might end up doing it again, only this time, while standing.


Hmm... it fit just right. But Mr. Stand will have to learn how to make me come, or he wont make it to our fourth night. I just might be getting disillusioned.

One night only.

"I'll come home with you. But I know myself; I wont be able to sex you."

Those words, have been rehearsed. I can speak them, in my dreams. They simply roll of my tongue, with no thoughts involved. I have been here before. I know myself.

This valentines day, I ate my words, as I released my body to meet with a man that I had only met hours before. This valentines day, I ate my words as I had my first one night stand.

Any regrets? Yes. Absolutely. I regret that he will not be available to have a second night stand, tonight, and a third, tomorrow.

I'd tell you about his body. But... of course, that'd be like me beating a dead horse.

Would I do it again? Yes. No. But only because it leaves me longing for more... and well, who would want to crave something they may not be able to have? That truely, is the only bitter aftertaste I've got.

I continue to replay his smile in my mind... often smiling along in recognition that well, we were "there" in that little space where we connected.

When I skip town tomorrow, I will delete his number... but his memories, will forever be stacked in my mind... slithering in and out of my mind as I remember..."Mr. Stand".

I will delete his number. Will let memories of him replay within my mind. Will save a link under my bed. ;)