Poetry from darker times

As a preface to this: I wrote these poems late one night after getting into a horrible fight with a loved one. It was a very dark time in my life. I am not there anymore. I hope that in allowing people to see the darkness that I have escaped that they might have hope.

1

my life is fucked beyond all reason

like a man in his twenties who is losing his hair

the sex appeal dies early

all that is left is a sea of pale smooth skin

glistening by the light of the moon

2

orgasm

such a sinful word

or-gasm

as though you had a choice

get on with it girl

they are waiting for you

3

i met a man once 

whose eyes were full of promises,

kisses, dreams,

all the things for which a girl creams

but he was no different

the dreams were lies and 

the kisses screams

tear my heart out baby

without you it is dead

but it was dead anyway

4

tears kiss me sweetly

my eyes my face

streaming with joy or pain

screaming the same

the world is a dull dull grey

full of digust no play

kiss me darling

kiss me sweetly

for tomorrow brings nothing but the same

5

harness

rock

penis

break

scream

die softly

bleed

slowly dissolve into the soil

flesh to dirt

blood to water

just the same

no different than any other

6

cliché

that same hackneyed phrase

don't test me darling

i know your name

you cry you preen

your skeleton shines in the 

moonlight gleam

you are empty i say

but your face only smiles

cliché

eyes empty like pits

get away from me with your dreary kiss

take your grin 

take it away I say

there is no room in my life 

for such a cliché as

once upon a time

7

fortune favors the prepared

what about the rest of us poor fucks

what about the meuling creeping public

what about the worthless self-saboteurs 

we get to die in our own shit

with no dignity and no choice

your laughter is cheap and hollow now

your voice it merely stings

my heart is in a ruin love

beside all of our things

what use to plan a life

when fate you can't predict

to hell with human nature

that is what truly reeks

you cannot know yourself until 

you have truly seen your darkness

your filth

your smut

disgusting sour putrefying shit at the bottom of your soul

that filthy tar baby that sucks you in

smothering you and all the light that is left

as the filth closes over your head

you gasp your last breath

the tar flows around you now

in you

the ghastly taste is in your mouth

creeping down your throat

you can feel your life receding from its onslaught

8

there are different types of darkness

the mother's womb quiet and safe

the blackness of lace at a funeral

dusty and cloying

and the blackness of death

destroying decaying

taking all that was precious and turning it to dust

no matter how you hide in the light

darkness will find you

what is light without its antithesis 

but for the sunlight streaming in your window

you couldn't see the dust

the fragments of your life

no fallen apart and dying at your feet

you may try to hide your face

but the sickening smell creeps into your nostrils

it tears your heart and rends your mind

separating you from all your kind

your pain a stain upon a fresh cotton cloth

no washing will remove

just as your blood burns your heart

leaving an eternal scar

an altar to those you lost

Hold me so tightly that it hurts

It feels like someone staring at the back of your head, that feeling you get when you just know that you are being watched. Just a little bit of tension in the shoulders. The hairs stand up on the back of your neck. You feel the need to whip around suddenly, but the idea scares you. 

That is how I feel. 

It's just a little too familiar. It's too similar to the past. It's setting me on edge. Depression is wrapping its shroud around me, lulling me into pitiful despair. 

He said it today... or maybe it was yesterday, "You need to talk to your doctor. It seems like you are getting worse." My heart sank. I have been trying to not see it for weeks now. He is so patient, so understanding, so much kinder than I feel like I deserve. He doesn't get upset when my moods keep me from helping around the house, or when I have surprise anxiety attacks, or sudden anger... when my words turn to shards dripping poison. I get a gentle reminder, a firm hand on my arm, a whisper in my ear. "I should spank you for this." 

I feel like my discipline is fading. I feel like I am losing my purpose: to serve my Master with everything that I am. 

It's a difficult line for him to walk, trying to protect my mental health and still provide the discipline and structure that I crave. I don't know if there is a right way. I don't know how to deal with my fragile emotional state. All that I know is that I want his hands on me. I want him to take me. I want to be his plaything. I want to be helpless in his arms. I want to be used for his pleasure, to satisfy those carnal cravings for fear and pain. 

I want to serve! I was born and raised to serve! I'm so frightened that I will lose this... lose focus on something that brings me so much joy. I am beginning to feel like I'm not contributing anything... I don't know if this is just depressive chatter in my head or if it is the truth. I have never really felt that I had much to contribute... but I felt safe and secure in my slavery. I feel as though that is slipping away. 

Oh, Daddy. I am frightened. Your little slave girl is frightened, and disappointed in her weakness, and so desperate for you.