Ripples in the ponds I call home, treading in the water and splashing in the sea.
Some come for a feeling of being sexy, of being wanted, of kinky reams of rope and leather, latex and black lipstick, ripples in my waters.
Some come for power and control, alpha males and top dog bitch showing whose boss with mystery and aloof intrigue. A splash on my shoreline.
I am little to these and they in turn are little to me, shadows on each others winds.
Drawn to it, madness and addiction, pain and fear, twisting writhing cruelty, pain and pleasure, hate and lust, love and anger, victim and crime mixed with sorrow and sated honey cakes. We swim together.
I joke about myself, belittle and digress, I wax and wane and shrink to a small insignificance. I know my value, I am the best, I am in small company. Doors have been built, firewalls erected, gates locked. Be honored, be fucking honored to see them at all, trust me, I hate you and if I can, Ill grind you into the piss filled mud and drag your tits through the thorns. trust me, I love you.
Paradox waits for us, it holds us and comforts us.
Define it and it withers and dies, let it free, wild and cruel and it grows, like a flower, like a cancer, like a cock.
Morality, ethics and our personal standards are an individual thing. Nothing is one size fits all.
I have chatted with child molesters and rapists, saintly souls who give their all and kind hearted friends with warm spirits and those who have killed and those who heal. I look through their lenses. I neither revel or recoil from the stories, just listen and look as well as I can through glasses not colored by my own thoughts and in doing so I learn more of the paradox that is myself.
I have filled my body and mind with enough drugs and drink to lay waste to a small nation and come out the other side, now even a glass of wine makes me a little high. That time has passed.
I have rode in a car with a friend, stalking victims we never could quite find, wrestling with my humanity and staying ahead of being a monster not by strength of character but by luck and the grace of the Gods while my understanding of my humanity, my cherishing of it grew. That time has passed.
I have hated myself and all I knew and begged the Gods to slaughter me now, screaming and crying for death but too afraid to pick up the knife. That time has passed.
I fancied myself a God in humans clothing, speaking to rivers that spoke back to me, seeing the spirits of the stone and tree, understanding the cosmic journey and the paths of the very divine. That time has passed.
I am selfish beyond any I know and in my selfishness I give to all around me, for in giving I sooth myself and ease my pain just a little.
It comes in cycles and waves, it ebbs and flows. Today the waves flow high over the bar.
I am selfish beyond all I know. each painslut or submissive soul, I rage inside when another holds that flame, they are mine I scream, branded by birth and kin to my need, I seek them like a moth to flame and recoil in horror to see them wasted on fluff and romantic prose of leather clad wankers with little hats, knowing they are meant for more, at least in my delusion of myself as more, my opinion and esteem for myself.
Time can pass me by in vast stretches, mostly I do not care, I have come lifetimes to be here and will spend lifetimes more before I pause. I know this, I feel this, it is like air to me, like sky and water, it is natural and understood.
I can throw a whip, better then most, worse then a few. Seek me out to throw a whip, slash a cane, hurt and explore. I may agree, I may not, it is a job, a hobby, a good time or a yawn.
Seek me out to spiral downward, to take your hand and sear our souls together in the duality, in the madness, in the lust and hate, in the pain and anger, in the love and addiction, that is more then a good time, more then a toss in the sack, more then a tear and a welt, that’s the core, that’s the addiction, that’s the religion.
Image from Shadowslaves
FREE PORN VIDEO CLIPS
No comments:
Post a Comment