A Barage of Garbage

Signing on beckons…
I've checked my mail dutifully
Placed "remove" on those meaningless mailers
What else can I find to scandalize me?
How much more can Pandora cast?
How much more of me is still masked?
Embarrassed about being harassed
On erotic themes that I take to bed with me
It's only in my mind these fantasies unwind
And oh of course on Literotica.com
Where authors draw me in with their
carnal ravings and suggestive lore…
Their words an aphrodisiac pressing me to be
A willing participant,
taking on a more active role.
Masturbating to dreamy flesh
and imagined limbs
A nexus rife with a scentless power,
a power to experience
and a power to mold
to help me shed my inexperience,
to let me finally be bold…
Wanton abandonment almost fully realized..
Oh well,
as real as those "happily ever after" lies.
Back to being just plain little me
After my exercise at being reckless and free
I began surfing the channels
looking for a fresh site
Almost like trying to find the right
summer berry
For a sweet, tart pie…
Overcome with boredom
I was finally heading to bed
I thought I'd try one avenue that
I haven't tried out yet
Not that I haven't, it's just been awhile
Chat rooms are usually the last things on my mind.
Unavoidable when nothing else is interesting.
Like at any other bazaar
Bizarre is actually the better word
An alternate reality where everyone is
Superman or Wonder Woman
Adonis or Helena of Troy
It's a meeting place for all sorts.
You'd like to think it as an episode of "Cheers"
For die hard fans addicted that's true
But the lonely souls are many
We tend to argue with that over commercialized "truth".
Either a virgin explorer or
a whore who knows the game
It's the same bar scene
Just with a different name
A crowded room with nothing much on its mind
Just a barrage of garbage-
"What's your name?"
"What's your size?"
A/S/L?
It's a query that I know well.
A crush of names with nothing much to say
Only if you're looking for a "good time"
A phalangeal romp on virtual "hey's".
Alone in my room scanning what's left
Sadly there isn't much
Just more pathetic me(s) prowling
And more of the same text.

Written at 3:10pm on 9-21-01