Your voice, the thread that I follow that guides me out of a sound sleep. Grasping it with closed eyes, I will my body to rise, to follow where you lead.
Lying next to you, head nestled upon your chest, I look up. I want to see what you see, even as my sleepy eyes seek to close again-this time with the pleasure of your lithe right fingers in my hair and your left ones lazily brushing my nipples to awareness.
25 light years away is Vega, softly winking. My back arches, my thighs part. I imagine that I am floating with you in Lyra. I vibrate in time with the strings of the harp.
16 light years from now is Altair, rotating rapidly. Your weight settles upon me, pulling my mind into Aquila. Like the flying eagle, you have descended. Pierce me with your talons and show me the moonlight captured in your eyes.
440 parsecs from here to there lies Deneb-blazing bright. You sweep me away, until I am at the tail end, dazzled and breathless. No more graceful flight has ever been executed. I am the swan that receives you, not able to shy away. Make me gentle, docile. Calm me.
The bridge is crossed and we are united. Yet the earth beneath us shifts, causing us to drift onto a new course, ever so slowly.
Some people have bullshit.
Others have Real Live Shit* they are dealing with.
Let us not ever confuse the two.
Fame has a cost; paid in blood, time and life.
~
I hoped you would come to my door, one day. I would be so lucky to get a visit from you, as your name was on the letters we received in the mail. I was too young to order the magazines but I pestered my Mom, anyway.
I knew I would not be a star but in my fantasy, I would have been announced by you, as I got to sit in on that infamous sofa.
With your big, infectious joyful voice, I bet every kid that met you on the telethon felt better, if only for a short time.
I hear you had a way of making people feel welcomed.
~~~
How could you be so lovely, causing kids in their teens and men from 20 to 80 to love you so? An Angel, grabbing the most eligible bachelors of the day.
Were you ever scared of your power over men, over people?
Did you see yourself as you were, in the hearts of those who adored you? Or did the false and merciless reflections in the mirrors held up to your face, dictate your eyes to what should be?
Those are questions that won’t be answered. But you never lost your true essence to my eyes.
~~~
What chance did you have, a tender babe of four that began doing work that adults had only begun.
Eleven years old when you fronted a band, the formal solidification of your isolation.
What did you know of love, lust and desire when you covered this? A song of adult love, filtered through your young lips.
And you retreated into a world of make-believe. In that false world, you were not cared for, your illnesses not treated.
Did you wonder what it would like to go to the store alone? To walk in a public park and not be mauled. To be normal.
Your talent still stuns me, as you did things others did not and you changed the entertainment game.
I will remember you like this, with your family, joy and happiness still on your face.
I fell into a troubled sleep and there you were. As always. Your eyes, full of light. Lips open, words to soothe me tumbling out.
I buried my face in your hair, feeling it spiral and slip past my cheeks, down my arms, the tangled ends brushing my thighs. Moving gently in the breeze.
Then I awoke.
But this time, I could not reach out and touch you, run my fingers along the silky curtain that holds your scent.
Not this time.
Maybe not ever again.
She started it. -L
****
The Beast rages. In you and others. Like the mighty Roman army, like the primeval forces, it is Legion. Multiple consciousness, single intent: possession and violation.
The monster. Basilisk. Orthrus. Ladon. Minotaur; boxed in.
Flee from me, Leviathan. Manticore, you riddles shall not ensnare me. Tower above me Kraken and find you will only grip the air where I once was.
Unlike the grass under the blades, I will not submit to being cut down, whittled to my quick. I will not lie still and ask urgently to be trampled.
Rather, reach out and run your cold fingers up my stem and rip your flesh on my thorns. The tears sting no less than your misplaced pride.
“You are merely the girl I am furnishing. Yes, of course, I’ll be there. Now run along.” -Story of O, p.5
*
I hold no misty love of sadists, dominants, masters, rulers, owners. I do not dream of the yoke, the tether, the leash, the rope. Or the lash.
My deepest desire is not to be the furrowed row. Soiling breaking before the plow.
Forewarned is forearmed. Watching intently their progress, I learn their habits. I plan my escape route and nurse my eventual insurrection.
For The Beast is always ravenous, always hungering, always looking for new fields to despoil. Desecration excites it. Tears from sad eyes and blood oozing from violated holes are to it as what rain is to roses.
“Using the familiar tu form of address, he told her not to move and told the women to hurry.” Ibid, p.8.
*
Know this: wily is the the Beast. Often it slumbers, appears tame and small. Pet it and watch it unfold, snarl and handily devour your mind. Your moist flesh is the dessert.Your cries are the finger bowl which only serves to clean it’s claws before it reaches out again.
It will neatly pick it’s teeth with your rib bones and then yawn, already eyeing the next piece of juicy prey. Surely you did not think to tame the wolf, ride the boar, own the falcon. Then hardly are you equipped to satisfy the Beast. For it will consume and consume until even the world itself is is a memory.
“Then one of the men gripped her buttocks and sank himself into her womb. When he was done, he yielded his place to a second. The third wanted to force his way into a narrower passage, and driving hard, wrenched a scream from her lips.” -Ibid, p.10
*
Tell me to kneel. I walk away. Grab me. I pull away. Hold me. I shake you off.
My refusal causes you to salivate.The defiant tilt of my head is the whetstone upon which your cock sharpens. When I press my lips together in denial of you, your nutsac tightens in a strange sympathy. I do not believe you want me personally, Beast. You only want to Destroy.
Leaving ruin in your wake, ashes that are so fine, even the winds cannot hold them aloft.
“All four had taken her and she had not been able to distinguish him from the others.” -Ibid, p. 11
*
Tie me and I will chew through my binding. Chain me and I will work constantly, even if raw and chafed, to slip out. I will not offer my self to your immolation fire.
Persist and break me, to find me hollow, empty, all my essence flown away.
Do not take a different tack–one of tenderness and honey. Your sweet words, are only food for flies and maggots. It is your nature to lie, as you are the Beast. And I am Truth-my Truth. I know you have no way to love me, for you have no love within you.
“This pain will enforce upon you the idea that you are subject to restraint and to teach you that you belong completely to something that is apart and outside of yourself.” -Ibid, p17
*
If you manage to corral me, pass me on to your minions and upon your return, find that their now-lifeless eyes will not give you an answer. Only the dark sticky blood smeared upon my teeth and hands will tell the tale.
“The three men who were smoking commented on her movements, on the way her mouth closed and worked at the sex it had seized and along whose length it moved rhythmically back and forth, on the tears that came to her eyes every time the swollen member struck the back of her throat and made her choke, to shudder as though from an imminent nausea. It was with her mouth still half-gagged by the hardened flesh that filled it that she murmured again the words: ‘I love you.’ “ -Ibid, p.19
*
Do not think to brand my ass. Do not hope pierce my cunt lips with a ring bearing your name.
I reject you. I cast you out, back into the abyss that is your home. Get thee not behind, but far away from me, Beast. Leave the vessel which you have falsely claimed.
*
Open your eyes, my love. In my arms, you return. You are a clean house, not to be filled again.
Hyperion, I name you. Call me in return Theia. Then I will receive you like a god and take you as my sacrament.
Love defeats the lies, slays the beast.
Wanting to rest my face in the crook of your neck. Feel your hair whip around my face, the soft curtain that lulls me into a theta state that pulls me deeper.
Align my universe.
Then the fleshy blade that cuts my butter will rip me out of the dream-which only is the prefix to the stem of you.
This morning, I stood mute and frozen, all around me, mouths opened and poured forth the hymn. The one from your final service.
My eyes were rooted to one spot, slowly filling with frozen water that could not fall.
Inhaling, I smelled the flowers that sat on my mantel, withering slowly, returning to the Earth, as you did. As we all will.
In that room, someone took comfort from those words that only stab me in the base of my brain. Over and over, with each refrain, the sharp blade lifts out and then go right back in. The hole is no wider or deeper-it hurts just the same.
I carry your voice in my heart, and the sounds of the laughter of those who left us. Until the us become a solitary I.
I drag the songs of the dead behind me.
Follow the trail I leave.
It leads to my grave.
I come to you for silence, to wrap my fingers in your hair, to watch dusk spread slowly across the sky.
That is all I want from you.
You give me talk, action, movement. You turn me from the spectator to the participant, you make me your unwilling physician.
You want me to heal you, to fill the gaps, fill the cracks with love mortar. Strengthen you.
I cannot.
Here I am, as me. I do not possess the tools to cure what ails you, bandage your festering wounds caused by long-ago injuries, heal your damaged psyche.
I do not exist to give you the love you need. All I can give you is what I have.
I am here to watch the day slip away into night. With you, my lips pressed to your collarbone, hearing your heart ticking like a cooling engine.
That is all I want.
That is all.
Like the all beasts that creep stealthily across the earth, you picked up my subtle scent before the stabbing pain emerged.
Distracted but concerned, I wondered of your persistent pacing, your fingertips twitching against your damp palms.
Then I knew.The cramps enveloped me in a tight fist. A trickle that signifies my membership in the triune club raced down my leg. I am still in the dream that is the Mother.
Maddened by the smell, the sight, you leaned against the wall and begged silently for strength. But your mouth watered.
You thrill over dead blood. You debase yourself.
God likes it fresh, pushed by a beating heart, spurting from a sliced neck. Hot and wet, as the soul unhinges from the body, eyes clouding.
You have fancied yourself Him. Imagined that I love you as much as Him.
Yet you delight in the decaying things, at the wrong time.
See why you do not compare?
Friend: mmhmm…unbelievable ambiguous yet with a tone of authority.your posts are veiled, shrouded, yet also so very pointed at the same time. I’ve always adored your prose.
there is never any real hint, not consistently, of who you may/may not be….
You don’t mince words- you have firm opinions. I never know if you mean them, or if they are just today’s observations. But they are never careless, never wandering…always spoken as if from a point of view of power.
Liras: Thank you. I do like to get a verbal hug every so often.
How can I tell you of my split consciousness or of my fractured will?
You would not be able to look at me the same, for it would pierce the very heart of you. The tender heart that drew me in, that I promised to cherish and protect.
I am the same yet different. There are parts of me that are growing, others that are dead.
As much as I love you, I love thinking of of others. Their soft lips, their naked breasts, the curve of their asses, the imagined scent that emanates from between their legs.
I love you and my soul thrills like a bird heralding Spring, when I see you pick up our youngest and dry her tears.
But there is a part of me that wants to leave you there-frozen, time still surrounding you-and go fuck others.
I might want a pair or a trio. I may prefer to line them up and go from one wet eager mouth to the next, until the final one gets filled with my hot sticky seed. Or it may please me to slip away and sped a weekend fucking a sex machine in all her holes, over and over, until the need is quieted and spent.
It has nothing to do or for you. It is me, my libido, my curiosity.
You however, do not dampen the flames when you toss me crumbs of attention.
The lie I will not tell is that you are the same. You are different.
The children, the house the dogs, the phone, your sister, my Mom, the bake sale, the garden, the old friendly widow across the street, your latest project. They are crowding out the space in your mind that should belong to only me.
You are not able to see it, you snap at me when I mention that I feel left out at times. But you promised me that you would never run out of time for me.
Remember?
Even when you let me fuck you-yes, you let me at times, for your mind is already dropping kids off at school the next day- I feel that I am an intruder. A distraction from the more important things that you do everyday.
Should I apologize for feeling bitter over it? Do you expect me to become neutered and asexual, due to the rhythm of our grown-up lives?
I am your husband. I do not want to beg you for your loving touch, your soft words.
You have changed. You have.
I want you to change back.
++++
You speak of change as if it is unilateral, not bilateral. As if it is only my issue.
You get impatient with me, with how I do not have the same amount of time to give to you. You are right–I don’t. But is that your only reason for getting bent out of shape?
Funny that you think I can’t see how you get distracted when the brunette neighbor from next door runs by on her daily afternoon trail past our house. I do not fault you for looking. But don’t blame me for your dick getting hard or the fact that I am not childless as she is.
Of course she has plenty of energy to screw her husband, as much as he likes and hang off his every word when he speaks. She is not juggling kids, this house, your Mom, work and all those things that make up our life. Or, as I see it should be called, my life.
You and I are living in these parallel spaces. You get that dejected look in your eye to my refusal, when you want a quickie while the spaghetti is cooking and the kids are screaming with glee in the backyard.
Yes, when we had one child, I could hike up my skirt and push my ass against yours for all of the hot 5 minutes you needed. I love you, so when you need me, I want to give, to satisfy.
When we had two children, I did have more energy and could also spend the time you needed, after they were put to bed.
Our lives are not the same, we have more of everything. We had another baby, I went back to work, your Mom needed support after your Dad passed. This new house, while beautiful, requires more time to clean.
And yes, I need a few minutes, not just a hurried bath or shower.
I do not make excuses, I only expect you to understand that sometimes, I have nothing more to give. I just want to sleep.
I do not always want your dick poking into me. I just want you to hold me. Cliche, but true. I love being in your arms just as much as when we shared our first kiss.
Hold me tight and keep me warm, as I grab just enough sleep to get me through the next day.
Were are here in the present, not in the past. So why are you acting like we are still those people, those single kids?
I have not stopped loving you one bit. You mean more to me than ever before. Am I suppose to neglect parts of our life, because you need more attention? What more do you want me to give?
The porn websites, the times you jack off in the shower, your discreet admiration of other women…I can deal with it; we don’t need to speak of it.
But your silent persistence that I have changed and that I neglect you…you are wrong.
That is what is in the bed with us at night-a cold shadow called Resentment. I can only lie there, when you come to me, already blaming me.
I have freely given you my love, my heart, my time. Bore our babies and see my changed body everyday in the mirror. Did all I could to please you, support you, be a partner.
Do you think I don’t care? Honestly, you know better.
You are not dealing with the changes within yourself as easily as you should.
I also want you to change back. Go back to the man who wears his ring around his finger, as well as his heart and mind.
Come back to us.
Come back.
Reminds me of you. What are those poor girls gonna do?
Succumb. Well, well…
