Monday, December 19, 2016

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.

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

such a sinful word
as though you had a choice
get on with it girl
they are waiting for you

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

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

die softly

slowly dissolve into the soil
flesh to dirt
blood to water
just the same
no different than any other

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
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

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

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

Sunday, December 18, 2016

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.