I find myself in dark places
Open worlds and cramped spaces
Fear and lust and sorrow
Dread and hope tomorrow
I search in other faces
I try to walk in their paces
But I lose myself in their lyric
Their ivory towers vampiric
Worshipping painted idols
I see slaves proud of their bridles
I know that I cannot be found
In the grooves of well-traveled ground
To wander is truly the cost
When looking for things that are lost
And in the light I find only traces
But I find myself in dark places
How do I know I love you? You scare me. I could tell you it’s because I would die for you, which I would, but dying‘s easy. If I were dead I wouldn’t have to deal with this shit anymore, and, quite frankly, that doesn’t seem so bad. The reason you scare me is because you make me want to deal with the shit so, maybe, I’ll actually live here, not just exist here. I don’t know if you’ve got demons like mine, but they can be a bitch. So you scare me because you make me want to face my demons so maybe I won’t lose you in their masochistic self destructive frivolity…and that’s real.
Among the lights where I reside
He grasped the universe within my eyes
The brightness drew him to my side
But in the darkness he saw lies
Fascinated by my wrappings
They only prefaced our descent
Somehow he found me lacking
But he failed to see what I present
There’s always blackness between the stars
There’s always shadow in the day
So much more hides in the dark
But that is where he lost his way
He wasn’t meant to walk with me
And on my own I’ve done so well
It’s not an easy thing you see
And still I find on this I dwell
You’d think with worlds inside of you
It might be easy to be alone
With nothing outside to see me through
I fear at times I’ll come undone
Looking up to my reflection
I’ll ask the bodies time can’t reach
For one proficient in my affection
To navigate this stellar breach
And wonder if the stars are lonely
With so much emptiness around
But I can ever wonder only
While I seem tethered to the ground
Watch me softly heavenly forms
As I grapple with these scars
Finding words outside the norms
My conversations with the stars
I wanted you silenced
I’ve done my penance
Your anger and rage
Would not clutter my page
I left you in darkness
Sign of my weakness
A perfection to harness
And not a complete mess
‘Til no passion burned
And all my dreams turned
Into orderly chaos
And blind ripoffs
But I am no angel
I crave my danger
Without it my peace
Is a lie in belief
Now I beg you to drink with me
From this cup I failed to see
The taste of iron on my lips
Remind me of the strength I missed
The world will always turn from us
So find me something dangerous
I wish I was a bear
Wrapped and warm in fur
Hidden away from winter wear
In sleep I would confer
I find that I am bare
Naked without my faith
Exposed and retreating where
Sleep becomes a wraith
I wish I had a bear
Stuffed full of love and hope
With button eyes so fair
Stable against this tightrope
I have all these wishes
And the warmth of friends that care
Full of love their dishes
My heart beats as the bear
I got the kind of news on thanksgiving day that you keep thinking you’re going to wake up to find it was just a bad dream. Mostly. I knew the possibility of it all. It shouldn’t come as a shock, but when it happens to someone you love very dearly, someone who affects so much of your life, it’s hard to get out of that denial.
Now it colors every aspect of my thoughts and I’m not sure what to write about.
If this was just a diary I would write any drivel that seeps across my addled brain. I’m kind of glad I have an audience…however small. It discourages me from wallowing in my own self pity. It still makes interesting topics difficult however.
So the answer is…write. That’s always the answer. No matter what. Write.
I remember a little way into my first year at college in 1996 I wanted to go home so I pack my shit up and I went. I want to now so bad today, but there isn’t one to go to. I don’t think there was back then either, but at least I didn’t have to worry about bills and grades. Life as a teen wasn’t so bad, but there was always an underlying dark yuck that followed me everywhere I was. Seems it still follows me. Everything is an almost…well almost everything. What do I have now?
- A wonderful healthy daughter
- A full belly
- A full tank of gas
- Rent will be paid next month at least
- A Car I love
- A man I love even if I haven’t told him that full out yet
- Friends that I love and love me
Life is good even if it isn’t perfect. One thing someone with a rough past can almost always say is that things have been worse. And if you are sitting where I’m sitting now you can say they tend to get better.
Home isn’t where the heart is or where you fall back to when you have no place to left fall. It may be for some people, and I guess home is something a little different for everyone, but for me home is where you make it. Just some days it’s a little harder to make than others, but that’s why I’m the Battle Raven.
I’m cheating. Season 12 of Diablo 3 came out and I’ve been enjoying my “free” time there. So I slacked on writing. You get a story I wrote a while ago. This story involves consensual non-consent. Sometimes that means what I have with my boyfriend: he can do anything he wants to me any time without discussing it first. I can ALWAYS call “red”, but it would take a lot. We have this arrangement because I trust him in a way I’ve never trusted anyone before. In the case of the following story it is what some might call fulfilling a rape fantasy. I don’t like calling it that because its not rape….consent is involved (red will always stop a scenario no matter what) even if it walks a fine edge. If this isn’t your thing move on. If it is….enjoy.
A few years ago I was standing at a reunion of a family that was mostly not mine. I wore capris jeans with frayed holes in them and became the subject of conversation with a preacher. The standard joke: “I just threw away a pair of jeans like that. Should have had you pay me a hundred bucks for them.” He also asked me why I would want to scar my body in reference to my tattoo. I tried to tell him they were free, but he was far to amused with himself. Honestly it should matter. Petty shit like that from “Christians” made me give up on being spiritually awakened.
At one point I decided I rocked those goddamn jeans and I’d rather be sexually awakened then whatever the fuck they thought they were. These days though I just want to….be. If someone wanted to comment on my jeans (still have them) I wouldn’t care. I honestly don’t understand why they would. It’s just clothing. Here…let me take it off if that helps ::evil grin::
When you are comfortable with who and what you are the “slings and arrows” of society stop bothering you. You don’t get pissed because someone attacks your beliefs or style. You certainly don’t get pissed if someone believes differently than you…even if it’s really fucked up. Difference becomes interesting.
This, I feel, is awake.
I’ve always had this fantasy of being tied and forced to orgasm long past the point of pleasure. For a long time I thought it was because I was a total freak. It turns out I’m normal in certain circles. A few months ago I gathered up my courage and went to a meeting point of one of those circles. Life hasn’t been the same sense. Tonight you get the story of my first scene.
I met a guy. He’s a sadist, though only because he gets pleasure from being on the top side of the slash. He takes nothing if his bottom isn’t enjoying it. I am a bottom because I thoroughly enjoy being on the receiving end. Marks make me giddy. I may very well be the yin to his yang. I don’t know that I can mark myself a masochist anymore. I am not a fan of pain at all, but I’m nearly addicted to the feeling of flying that hits you immediately after the pain subsides. The greater the pain the higher the feeling, and so I yearn to be able to take more. For now I’m only beginning.
My first scene starts in a dark corner with a fair bit of teasing while watching a small group converse at a picnic table. He whispers in my ear “do you want to try a little playing?” I indicate my desire and he leads me through the house to a front room a little away from everyone. He likes to be very public, but I’m still not quite there yet.
There are two crosses here; large X’s standing silently against a white wall. On the other wall is a small table with a radio playing the kind of music I love. If I knew nothing else about this group their taste in music would have made it for me. I stay there while he goes to grab his toy bag. There are so many words that will never mean the same to me again.
I’m nervous which I love. He takes out a pair of cuffs and secures them on my wrist before slipping off my dress. Leaving me only in my panties he locks my wrist to chains at the top of each side of one of the X’s. My first sensation is a pair of clothes pins attached to my nipples. They sting. I’m getting a little ache between my thighs thinking about it now. He starts with a light flogger made of wide soft leather. It’s more thuddy than stingy. I get remember all the toys he used on me now. Eventually he used a heavy piece of leather on my ass that left the most beautiful bruises. This is almost my favorite part.
He says he isn’t into playing when his play partner legitimately doesn’t like something and yet….I hate electricity. I’m terrified of it. He has something called a tazapper that doesn’t hurt, but it arcs quite vividly with a loud pop. It’s everything I hate about electricity and he hooked me with my back to the cross and started threatening me with it. I laughed and screamed at the same time. I managed to get my body behind the damn cross which is pretty impressive. I suppose you can honestly say I have a love hate relationship with this particular play.
Eventually I was standing breathless on the cross and he blindfolded me. I thought we were done, but the scene isn’t up to me and I would have it no other way. A collar was snapped around my neck and a leash to that. He led me in just my panties through the house to a chair in the living room. I had to dress while blindfolded.
I spent the rest of the night cuddling with him: safe, warm and on cloud nine. I can’t wait to do it again.