On the Edge of a Blade

My eyes slip closed and my head slips back with a soft thump against the concrete wall. I keep my eyes closed knowing all to well what I will see it is what my body feels right now. I want to open my mouth and say something, anything. I begin to make a sound and his large calloused hand clamps over my mouth sealing it. He leans in close to me, his breath warm against my ear and whisper “Don’t make a sound.” As if I could my mind reels the oxygen deprivation quickly becoming apparent. The bulge against my thigh grows a bit bigger as he rubs it against me. I shiver excitement and fear warring in my brain. I am certain that he can feel my heart pound through the thin t-shirt that I have on. The slowly moves off of my mouth and nose giving me a split second to gasp precious oxygen.

While I am still gasping for breath a forearm is slammed into my throat pinning me to the concrete wall behind me. The rough brick pushes painfully into my back and the forearm is crushing my ability to breath. The pressure of it keeps me pinned on the tips of my toes. If I don’t strain to touch the ground my feet would be off the floor and I would hang there in his grip choking. I feel him fumbling with something between us and realize suddenly that he is unbuckling his belt and trousers. His other hand reaches completely up under my skirt. I gasp as his rough fingers brush my over sensitive lips. He tilts his head up to look at me raising an eyebrow quizzically.

“Expecting someone?” He whispers so close to my ear that it is all I can do to not to lean into him. I shake my head my eyes going wide because I went without panties on a dare from a friend. His hand roams across my bare ass and gently caresses the folds of my lips, teasing me. I arch my back trying to get more contact between me and his had, my fear fading as quickly it began. He cupped his hand and slowly curled one finger against the most sensitive part of me. I turn my head away pushing my cheek against the brick at this violation and that my body is responding to it so enthusiastically. His newly freed cock twitches in excitement as it slides against my bare thigh. The silky and smooth skin makes me shudder in what could only be termed anticipation. I lean my head back pushing my body closer to that silken warmth. My eyes flutter closed as his fingers trace lazy circles around my clit making me want to scream, I barely notice a flash of sliver on the edge of my vision.

Just When You Thought it Could Not Get Worse

It was my idea and half way through it I found myself thinking that if I didn’t already plan on not surviving in the same form I am now I probably would take myself to the nearest highest bridge and jump off. I remember when he loved me and wanted to be around me. That is what makes it so horrible it would be different if I couldn’t remember or if it wasn’t so clear. I shouldn’t have gone there, I shouldn’t have sat there talking pouring my heart out to a person made of black glass just barely see through. I just didn’t realize that it would hurt so much. It is as if at any moment I am going to look down and I will have ripped out my own still beating heart from my chest. I can almost feel the slickness of the blood that still seems to pour out of it. I did this to myself and I can’t undo it. Before I get labeled an emo chick who is screaming whoa is me what I am talking about isn’t the teenage angst that is felt because of hormones but is no less real.

I thought that people stuck by each other when they loved one another. I thought if someone hurt a person you cared about you defended them. There was a time not so long ago that I would have stepped in front of a train to save the one life that I valued above all others and for some stupid reason I thought he felt the same about me. I feel deeper than most people. Feel stronger and bond tighter to those close to me.

When all of this started I thought that he would be there for me as I was for him every time he needed me. I did not expect what happened. Now as I sit alone as usual contemplating what went wrong I realize that the embedded carnival glass is moving under my skin again. It writhes and twitches like a living thing that wants out. For all I know it is alive and is willing to do what it can to break free of its prison just as I would be willing to do almost anything to break free of mine. Almost every avenue I have out is blocked. The last one came today when I found out the person I counted on the most had friends that hated me. With each passing thought the feeling gets worse.

You know the feeling that you feel when you just want to be home with your back against the wall tucked into a corner, just waiting? Just waiting to let out everything you’ve taken in that day. Feeling both desperate and relieved because nothing is wrong but nothing is right either, you are just so tired, tired of being nothing, tired of everything and you just want someone to tell you that it is ok. But no one is going to you know that from years of being kicked when you are down because no one can fix you. Tired of wanting tired of fixing yourself and everyone around you. Just once you want it to be simple to be helped to be saved but you know that’s not going to happen?

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The Beginning

I sit watching the sunlight dance off the black sand as the hot breeze rustles the leaves that my prison has grown to protect me. Why the architects protect me I am not sure, why I am not impaled on the cross or pinned to the earth with spikes to be burned and torn apart like Prometheus.

There was a time before here. At least I think there was a time before here. There are vague memories that float through my mind things that when I try to hang onto them they slip like mercury through my fingers. It had to start somewhere right?

Tonight I give myself a headache trying desperately to remember what came before but they whisper to me, their hissing voices seem to overlap making it impossible to distinguish reason from sanity or sanity from hope.

As the day burns bright I lay on the floor of my prison trying to listen to what the voices are saying no longer sure that they are talking to me or each other. I want to ask about the beginning, the start of things, how I came to be locked in this world kept safe even from myself.

I remember the monkey, his laughter and playful nature, how he would make me smile even when the world was falling apart.

I remember the jackal, his quick wit and subtle mind along with his viscous nature, how I felt safe and terrified at the same time, feeling his strength ripple under my finger tips and the sharpness of his teeth as they tore into my flesh.

I remember the horse who was my strength, my loyalty, my heart, and my hope, and my peace all wrapped up in a massively powerful body. A mane that I could wrap my fingers into  to pull him close and hold him against my heart.

I remember the cat the inscrutable one who always had a cheshire grin. The one who taught me what it was to feel fear and enjoy it.

They created the quiet. The precious calm that wrapped itself around me the same way they wrapped themselves around me until there was nothing left of me. Sometimes one at a time and sometimes they would all be around their hands on me and bodies pressed close.

In the end the horses strength failed, the monkey slipped into madness, and the jackal like his counterpart in the Inuit legend ate himself and the cat lost his grin and his drive and ultimately any feeling he had for me, I think his quiet is gone just like mine is.

I miss them more than I miss myself. It is only a matter of time.

So true!
So true!

Stuck

Trapped, mired, jammed, wedged, these words don’t mean quite the same thing as the far more pleasurable restrained or caught.

Today is one of those days that I look at the shining bars of my self made prison. They are not like the bars of a jail or even a cage. Their black metal gleams in the sunlight as they twist upwards jagged thorns gliding out from their stems. They look like the long stalks of rose bushes or the blackberry bushes that used to scratch me before giving up their sweet fruit as a child.

Looking through the breaks in the bars I see an endless expanse of black sand that sparkles in the sun as if the schizophrenic architects have torn the buildings down in their fury. They caught me out of my hole, out of my box, and I woke up naked and alone in this burning cage. I can see the blue rolling sky above if it weren’t for the crystal black sand it would be too bright to see. Like the white on white of a the first days after it snows in the winter time. I can only see because the sand is black and the sky is rolling and not clear blue. It moves with a rhythm and pattern that my tiny brain cannot comprehend. I would ask its architects but I don’t know if they would answer me. Nor do I see them often.  Usually they flitter about faster than I can see and only clue they’ve been there is the strange buildings they leave behind.

I turn slowly in my prison. Looking for what previously once was only to realize there is only one thing left. In the distance I see the gnarled black cross laying on its side making an X its twisted corners reaching towards the sky. It is too far to see if the man who once hung from it is still there but from the gleaming red drips from its spikes I suspect he still is. I have not seen him in a long time, not since the architects began building their city, the city I so recently escaped to.

You were alive once. I am not sure now. I remember your touch like fire on my body and your too warm hands against my hips as you pulled me down onto you and you slide into me. I vividly remembering the burning heat between us almost too much for me to stand. That was before they pulled you away. Leaving me to watch you suffer on that black X. Hanging from it, its thorns piercing through your strong arms and thighs. Slipping them through the thickest most painful muscle echoes of your screams still haunt me. That wretched wailing that can only be made when someone is dying slowly. It has been a long time since those screams died away blended with my own.

I stare out of the dark bonds of my prison letting fear wash over me, letting it bloom out from my heart as it writhes and thrashes desperate to get out. I can feel it rub its icy fingers along my rib cage probing each one of them searching none too gently for the smallest chink in my armor. If it finds the slightest flaw it will rip through my body with claws that that radiate cold. All this while it does not loosen its grip on my heart. It is too intertwined into each chamber to consider letting it go, trying to remove it on my own. As my heart beats it contracts around the sharp slick claws tearing into the muscle and embedding itself further. It gradually turns my blood to ice. The cold slowly sneaks through the vessels and arteries until it reach my brain. If it can’t get out it wants in very badly. Wants to paralyze me further. Tonight it might succeed I can already feel myself wanting to give in, wanting things to go numb, wanting things to go black.

It is strange that I want it as bad as it does. I dream of not fighting against it anymore, letting it both in and out, letting it tear me apart because at least then it would be over. At least then it would just stop. The pain of the gaping hole that it will leave is nothing compared to the pain that fighting against it causes.

I look back again at the barren landscape staring at the giant x that he is pinned to and once again wonder if he still lives. Life and death doesn’t work the same here. The rules of gravity, physics, life, and death are not obeyed here. I watch quietly listening to the voices and pray for them to quiet. Unfortunately as I watch that huge black cross I see the sand shift and begin to move. The cold is increasing and so is the desire to give in as the x  slowly disappears behind their building. I shiver listening to the architects whisper to me and try not to pay attention to them, I try not to believe their promises. All I can do is think to myself is how nice it would be just to give into them.

aloneDe Profundis Clamo Ad Te Domine