Spring

Anxious, flustered.

Frantic, you call.

I knew you were going to betray your promise.

Your key does not work.

Did you think it would?

Locks

You called early, excited.

You received it. Took it out the package, felt the cool steel in your hand.

I waited, coughed. You were not following directions.

Suddenly, the light clicked within your dim perverted mind.

Placing me on hold, you fumbled about.

I heard a click. Another as you took a pic.

The rustle of your placing the key in the envelope, sealing it.

Tentatively, you asked if I were pleased.

I snorted and hung up.

No, you weak bitch, I am never pleased with you.

Such a horny slut, I have to resort in locking your tiny manclit in a chastity unit.

There is no other way to deal with a randy goat whore such as you.

Vocare

When I sleep, I leave my bed, my body and speed to you.

I stand there, waiting. Sometimes you notice me, reach for me.

Tender kisses, gentle caresses, imminent penetration of my soul.

Others, you do not.

There are nights when I fight demons, fiends, and drooling ferocious things. I know they are after you, so I bravely defeat things that gibber, that scare me to the depths of my mind.

Do you see me, standing there; bloody in my white gown, like the Lamb who has been slain yet is raised eternal?

There are nights when you wrap around me like a snake. Crushing me, hurting me with you need for me. I wake up, heart in my throat, and I see your lissome form fade in the dark, darker than the night.

I turn to the phone on those nights. Without fail, you call, saying that you were thinking of me. Or that I was thinking of you. It is 1:30, 2:42. 3:01, 4:22 in the morning.

Some nights, I am so afraid of that I have fought, wicked things I have seen, that I cannot get back to sleep, until the dawn.

That is when I most wish to be next to you, for I am never afraid, never disturbed, as I am sleeping in your bed. I sleep the rest of the holy and virtuous dead.

You protect me so thoroughly, so toughly, that we could be sleeping on stone in the cold, and I would be warm.

But it is not the night terrors that plague me, for those phantasms fade with the sun, with a walk around the room, with a glass of water.

It is the sinuous forms that slink unnoticed through daylight, that hide their true faces, which concern me.

They stalk you, easily sweetly. I scream at you to watch out.

But I am not sure you hear me.

Hear me.

Adoring

I kneel in the shadows of the Church. My eyes are on the statue of Christ, but my mind sees past it, to what he really should look like. Warm, kind, loving, luminous.

In this state, my mind wanders to you. For you are all those things to me.

I cannot feel Him on my flesh, but only in my heart.

I can feel you. Your are hard but warm. Silky hot to the touch.

Your hands, they warm me, pull me closer, push me towards my true purpose.

I have laid my head upon the stone Christ, my face cradled against his hard feet, my hands clutching his legs. My breath made small tears upon his sculpted robes.

I have buried my face into your firm flesh, marveled that such lean sinew could still be comforting.

I have been impaled by your cock, and cried out both your names, marveling and swooning in ecstasy.

Taking you within me, in anyway you want, is not what they say it is. It is the only weapon I have in the war to rescue you from the seductiveness of the Pit. I fight fire with fire,water, blood, tears, and pain.

He owns me but He gives me to you, for your use, your delight, even your abuse. He touches my mind, and shows me what I can and must do.

It has been said that there is nothing better than to give one’s life for one’s friend. I have also been told the Holiest of Flesh was given for us.

I give my body, my blood, my heart, my total being.

All to save you.

You cannot be lost.

Progressing

With every time,

with very action,

away from you,

I slide.

Moments

You turn away from me, your feathers the only thing hiding your nakedness from my eyes.

Reaching out, I rip handfuls of your soft fluffy feathers out of your skin.

Your cries for mercy are sweet.

Almost as sweet as the taste of your blood, slowly oozing down your shoulder blades.

Aroma

I am perched above you, panting, waiting.  My hands are coated in coal dust, itchy and dry.

Rooted, you stare back at me.

I feel something stirring in me: weariness.

I am tired of the tribulation of your salvation.

I turn my face away and feel my feathers ruffle against my face.

I smell freedom but it is not yet mine.

Yet… soon. If I can only endure.

Dig

From within you, I emerge.

I am now able to reach into others and take their very essence, to burrow my face into them and pull out their souls with ease.

Is that what you have hoped for?

Or do you only wish to shove me back into you, leaving not even a trace of my presence?

Flashback, again

*reprint, weekend edition*

Thy Kingdom come

If these signs and wonders are any indicator, I am not beholding the hereafter…not unless it is a hellish landscape that awaits me.

Thy Will be done

what will drives him to me, and I not away from him but even closer to the abyss?

On Earth, as it is in Heaven.

He is thrilled to be in this time in this place, as he is wielding his power over me with perfect tyranny. I gnash my teeth and wait, as for this too, shall pass.

Give us this day, Our daily bread

WHO is getting fed? He is, as he feasts on my very flesh, while I have a mouthful of ashes and dust.

And forgive us our trespass, as we forgive those who trespass against us.

I am bound to forgive, to forget, to wash anew. I have only two cheeks to turn, as I kneel and serve him with whatever hole he seeks.

Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil

What is this dark twisted thing that had emerged from the cocoon of such promise? Give me strength to stand and face the beast that is unchecked desire, arm me with the right words and the blessed water-my tears. Empower me to not flee as I walk through this pulsing valley-this place that strums with grief mingled with desire and pain.

For the kingdom the power and the glory are Thine,

He fancies himself my demi-god, and I am the altar that he pounds upon, howling in frustration as he tries to find his place in the schema though the flesh. Not only mine, for it uniquely threatens to engulf him, but others

Now and forever, world without end

Nothing that hurts can last this long without leaving madness in its tracks, like the wetness given to us as snails pass. It must come to an end, the hurt, the burning of punishment. As I await resurrection, let me sleep the uneventful slumber of the dead, not the terror of the dreamer with no way out into consciousness.

Amen.

Which means “let it be” but in this case it is one man, on this tiny speck of dirt in the Divine Eye. A man that had reached in and touched me in a place where only Thy Son was able to reach.
========================
I’m not the one who’s so far away
When I feel the snake bite enter my veins
Never did I wanna be here again
And I don’t remember why I came

Candles raise my desire
Why I’m so far away
No more meaning to my life
No more reason to stay
Freezing feeling,
Breathe in, breathe in
I’m coming back again…

Voodoo, Godsmack

Stance

I am facing you.  No need for words.
Quickly, I whip off your mask.

I see your turmoil and your pain, but today, it is of no matter.

I am only here to save your soul and keep you away from eternal damnation.

The rest, as they say, is out of my hands.

Bow

As I do before the sacred altar at church, you expected me to kneel. I looked at you warily, for you are-much to your continued dismay-not my Father.

Your hands, in mock holiness, rested upon my head. In the liquid quiet of the room, your eyes were veiled.

“If you love me, you will kneel and kiss my feet.”

“But you mean it in another manner than that”

“Isn’t that what the Savior did, kneel and wash the feet of the Disciples? Aren’t you supposed to imitate him?”

“They were holy.”

“And I am…?”

“Not.”

Before the word cleared the air, you forced me down to my knees. I stumbled, barely keeping my balance. Automatically, my face tilted up to you.

“Kiss them”

With a firm push, I was eye level with your feet.

I heard the words, so softly uttered : love your friends, as well as your enemies. I sighed, and kissed the tops of your feet.

“No, tears? Shouldn’t you be crying? Aren’t you going to wipe my feet with your hair?”

” I am not hurting. I have nothing to confess to you.”

“Let me give you something to cry over.”

Wrapping your hands in my hair, you pulled upright, and drove your cock into my mouth. Your cock was ramming into my throat, and as I pushed futilely against you, overwhelmed, you only pressed your advantage.

Gasping, I beat your thighs with my fists. I soon shed tears, as I fought to regain my breath. Fingers upon my scalp, you pulled my head back and forth.
Over and over, you repeated, ’suck, you cunt’.

When I thought I would not draw a full breath again, you erupted into my throat.

Falling away from you, I choked and sputtered. My vision was cloudy, my body, shaking.

“I see you are crying.”

“Yes, because I couldn’t breathe.”

“Kneel, and and kiss my feet.”

“Again?”

“Again.”

Silence

Before you, I kneel.

“Suck”, you said,  and I did, vigorously working my mouth.

“More”, and I took every inch down my throat, as I felt my air supply becoming restrained.

“Drink”, you breathed, and I did.

You arose, walked away and there was nothing more to be said.

Lash

You hit me so hard, that it didn’t hurt. Until I looked down and saw my blood.

I dipped my fingers into the crimson drops and held them out to you, as I slowly sank to the ground. Eyes wide, mouth slightly ajar.

You face shifted, just a bit. Within that small moment, I knew I had won a coup.

There is power in the blood, as the old hymn says.

Koimisis

I was scared. In the soft gloom, I heard my breath. It rattled from my lungs and up through my nose.
I bet that His did too, as He waited in the twilight for his jailers to come.

The click of the door, so simliar to the click of a door over 2000 years ago.

It was best to look away from the sounds of movement, for it would make no difference. The pain to come, the sacrifice nedded, it would not be abated by gazing and peering.

I felt your hands, and was assaulted by questions. During that time, I did take measure of my adversary, one of the agents that is here only to drag you to the depths of damnation. That you could not see the roiling under the serene transculent flesh she wore, told me how much more urgent my mission was.

Then it began; the itching, burning pain of the lash on my flesh. I begged for small respites, as I felt that I was not going to be able to stand it and stay sane afterwards.
In the spaces between, the tiny gaps, I was transported back to to a small town, just an outpost of the mighty Roman Empire near the sea, where religious people claimed their authority against Caesar.

It hurt; every flicker of the lash, the clamps upon my chest, the paddle. The gag, it did not help. I smelled the acridity of the rubber, it only made my eyes water. I think it may bear my teeth marks for all time.

Finally, you got your pound of flesh. I vaguely recall the insanity I slipped into, for I was held down by you, as I was clawing and crawling away from the source of my agony.

My voice was no longer even mine, as I pleaded for help from above. But…no rush of wings, no thunder. Only intense, focused, sustained pain.

Then, tears. So many, that they splattered upon your chest. I felt that my heart was breaking, just as my flesh was torn. Although every lamb is precious… Eloi Eloi, why must it hurt so?

You did not see the lone angel that brought me solace, but that was what helped me to pull my thoughts together enough to see that I sucessfully did, what I was sent to do.

I forced my eyes to your face. The light was shining through you, as the taint burned away. A sign that you are moving back to us, stumbling toward Bethlehem.
After you were gone, the blessed quiet. I felt my spirit slip lose of its mooring. In the arms of my Father, I simply asked, “Is this enough?”

I felt, rather than heard Him say ‘Yes.’

I suffered my degradations, for the only reason I must-to save you, to pull you away from the darkness in which you were trapped.

But He suffered much much more than I ever could, so to save you and create me. I often gnash my teeth at my purpose, but I obey. He did.

For this, I hope you are grateful.

For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places. Ephesians 6:12.

Dwell

Leaning back, you drilled into me with abandon. It seemed that you were not quite yourself. Your eyes, your luminous skin, the power with which you grasped me. The heat rolling off your skin.

Still, I disregarded it;  no hint of sulphur, no flashes of light or tendrils of smoke.

You said that I turn you into a beast.  Terrestial or diabolical, you did not clarify.

I discreetly rubbed a bit of holy water across my lips, before I kissed you. In the event there was a bit of the infernal left that need purging.

Just in case.

Fury

Gentle at first , but them we spiral away from each other.

The grating of your words in my ears.

The snap of me hanging up the phone.

The plop of my tears falling on my cheeks.

The whir of your windshield wipers in the sleet.

The pounding on the door.

The click of it opening.

The tap of your footsteps walking towards me.

The hiss of my breath as you stand over me.

The crack when you slap me.

The slither of your zipper opening.

The rip of my skirt as you yank it up.

The grunt that sprang out of my throat when you enter me.

The punch of your breath in the air.

The sharp inhale  as I cum.

The grunt as you do the same.

The silence of you collapsing on me.

The softness of your kiss.

The urgency of mine in return.

Soulpsychicsuicide

In the rush of anger and bravada, I countered his claim. A fast decision, made in anger. I am used to being a tad pissed at him, but the inferno of rage, it overwhelmed me.

In the aftermath of this potentially fatal mistake, I went outside for a stroll. It was icy cold, clear and even the trees were asleep.

My shoes crunched in the pristine snow, which was about as blank as my soul. The blaze of anger has fallen away, leaving me with a profound and penetrating grief. I stood for a moment and gazed at the bright, uncaring stars. It dawned on me that I had taken this walk before- only in warmer weather. I am on a cycle, but to where? An actual place or an endless empty loop?

I can’t see my way through this one, for to do as I so boldly claimed, it will rupture my mind. But, if I do not stop him, my soul will be demolished. I can’t pin this on him, he is on automatic pilot. This furtive sexual suicide note is written by my hand alone.

How do I live up to the bolstering of my mouth?

When I got indoors, I had little speckles of ice on my cheeks. I did not even know I was weeping. I am surprised that I did not collapse and become part of the landscape.

I think that this may be the only and only regret of my adult life so far. I doubt that he could look at me the same way, if I went through with it, for I couldn’t look at myself the same. Part of my power has been my pristine image. Shattered, in 60 hot-blooded seconds.

Those who know me are aware that I like privacy, especially when it comes to sex. I have not ventured into girl/girl love. It bothers me when women are performing for men. If I need a woman, why should I invite a man? That is my solitary opinion, however.

I told SR this afternoon that it seems like a curse- he won’t let go; I can’t release him. This strange tug of war is going to drown us both.

-p

——————————-

…2 words falling between the drops and the moans of his condition
holding someone is truly believing there’s joy in repetition.
There’s joy in repetition.
She said love me, love me, what’d she say?
she said love me, love me.
Joy, why don’t u love me baby, joy, why can’t u love me baby
joy, come on and love me baby…

-Prince, Joy in Repetition

Purge

You are in every part of me. I fear I am possessed by your desire.

To shake you off, I went to my Father’s House. When I dipped the tips of my fingers in the holy water font by the front door of the church, I felt a slight tingle. That was your essence burning away, like the dross before the fire.

I stood in the narthex for a time, feeling the cool winds sweep out of the sanctuary. I bet your head lifted, as I danced briefly across your mind.

But when I stepped over the threshold, you twitch and snuffed the air. Your eyes narrowed as I slowly walked past the silent saints, flickering votives standing before them, solemn entreaties. The floor, burnished with the footfalls of many over the years, gleamed softly.
The closer I got to the altar, the more agitated you became. I in turn, felt lighter than normal, as the weight of you curled away from me. I dared not look behind me, as I am sure the air held a smoky shimmer.
Approaching the Host, safely held in in the Tabernacle, I knelt and bowed my head. Rooted to the spot on the kneeler, I felt my soul yawning wider, as the peace of God settled within. Each deep breath brought incense, wax, and cleansing. I surrendered readily.

With a audible snap, I heard you grunt. There is no way you can hold onto me in the Prescence of the Almighty. Your despair was thick and gritty.

In that sweet moment, I saw myself as I am: torn between the the world, which is you, and the Flesh, which is He.

In that time, I spoke with Him and asked for help, for comfort, for understanding.

With firm resolve, I took my leave, hoping that I can survive you and your totalitarian demands of me.

Looking back, on my way out the heavy oak doors, I bathe in the glow of salvation.

It gives me strength to battle you.

What gives you the strength to battle me?

Murky

I know your secret.
You are upset because you cannot transcend your boundaries without me. Whereas I only have to close my eyes and I am within. That aggravates you, that I walk with the Son, glide with the Holy Spirit and go hand-in-hand with the Father. I even spend time with Theotokos and the Heavenly Choir, head bowed in adoration of the Eternal Majesty.

Care to join me? That’s right, you cannot. Pity, that.

Princess spoke of it, the need to enter the Divine but only able to do so through the actions of the body. But that is only a brief glimpse, it leaves you hungry.
So, you pummel, bite, gash, suck and wound my soul and body. Just because you are envious and trappped. A trap of your own making, let us be clear.

After I can bare you no longer, I spiral away, but you cannot follow. I can hear miniscule flakes of your enamel falling, as you grind your teeth in utter despair.

Whose fault is that? Didn’t you ask to have your wings clipped, so you could walk, not fly?

Cracked

I have places where you like to insert things.

My mouth, which receives the Host and speaks the Word of God, you desparately seek to fill with the visible sign of your divinity- your hard cock, which is marked with a pulsing veins. just as the wafer carries the Chi Ro. You are not holy and never can transcend the boundaries to become one of the Trinity, the Sacred and Everlasting. Therefore, you take a special pleasure in wiping the holiness of my lips. Nothing turns you on more and makes your ache for a cock sucking that when I return from Mass, the Host still melting sweetly at the top of my throat.

You have a fondness for my cunt entrance, so tight and moist. But even that is not enough, for you dig your nails into my hands, when I am on my back, in an attempt to mark me with your passion. Just as Our Lord wore his. His was for everyone,but you are sellfish and only want my agony for your self.

My ass crack, the fissure that contains my hindmost nethermouth- you eye it with increasing desire. I have been worried that you would in an attempt to make me like it, stuff my rosary beads into my hole, and draw them out, as I cum. That would be the ulitmate triumph for you, to take even my beads and turn them into an object that represents you, not God.

You only want to be my God, my Savior, my Blessed One. For me to pray to you for salvation is your dream.

But I see the place along your back where you wings once were attached and I have traced the mark on you with my tongue, where you were struck with lightening, as you fell from the sky.

Once/twice

He did it again- went to see her. I am not sure what I feel , but I do know that I think he is playing a game. A game with no winners, just losers.

That I have not went to skin him, is a wonder to me. I need to do sometrhing…to…him.

I did go and play traffic director- for a couple who needed… direction.

I sat in a chair and gave orders. It was like watching a TV show, for I was not involved. I took a bit of comfort from the control, the marionette actions of the naked puppets.

But my mind was on him. I do not believe he was having very much fun either. After all, I was not there. Plus, I let him know that I would be busy giving… orders. He snarled.

Being the prude that I am, I was nonplussed by all the excitement. I wonder how they can love each other, when they are so eager for sex, but not eager for sex with each other.

Hunger

What is it about dick hunger that drives so many women mad? Like the Bacchae, they weep and gnash at themselves in a ectatstic frezy, but to what avail? Has the undying desire for a man’s cock, ever swayed him from any course of action that was planned previously?

Does the cock feed? Does the thrust of it deep inside heal a wound? How filled can on be when the repeated insertion/wiithdrawal can only be followed by a period of prolonged absence?

An unhappy accident of biology,this yearning for 6-8 inches of hard veiny erectile tissue or a real and unquenchable thrist?

Could it be something as simple as the only way to escape the boundaries of the flesh, just for fleeting moments ar a time?