I offer to let you use me in any way that you want – no request is too strange or unusual. I would love for you to do to me what pops into that wonderfully wicked brain of yours.
Ever wonder why… every wonder what I want in return. As it turns out not a whole lot. I just want to tie you down and find out what makes you scream in pleasure… and if I can’t have that pain… but what I truly want is to find where the two meet for you, where they become one inside of you. I want to shatter you into millions of kaleidoscope pieces where the jagged pieces of you slice into my flesh embedding themselves into my flesh so that I can carry a piece of you with me all the time. I want to crack your chest open and crawl inside to curl around your heart, so I can listen to your heart beat from the inside and feel its deadly rhythm beating all around me.
It is a night like this that I pace the house my mind not able to settle on any one thing. I close my eyes and I am somewhere else. Sliding back and forth between safety and sanity. I find myself muttering “where did it start, have to find the beginning.” It started with the horse. With the death of me. It started when the horse killed me… wait that is not right… It started when I was killed by the horse. I pace the house like something caged and alone.
I chew my lower lip and repeat it had to have started with the horse and the death of me or was it the jackal… no it couldn’t be it couldn’t be he ate himself after the horse killed me… long after… but then I woke up or maybe he did. The Jackal woke up he saw he knew. It was before the monkey went mad or maybe it was before I went mad. No that’s not right because I am not mad am I? I close my eyes again startled by what is behind them they snap open and I begin to pace again.
I can’t remember any more… In a way it saddens me that I can’t remember what happened first. I taste a coppery thick liquid on my lip and realize that at some point worrying at it I have broken through my bottom lip with sharp teeth. The taste of blood reminds me of something more making me wish that I would just forget for now and not want to remember the smell, the taste when I opened my mouth to draw in breath that I realized that I had been holding in that moment. And my mind blanks the rest. This is why I can’t remember.
I make it no secret that I will eventually die either by a situation I have put myself in or by my own hand. I do not want anyone to misunderstand this fact. It is not that I dislike life (I do but that is besides the point) its that I dislike living it.
It is not fair that people who want to live die and people who want to die live. Another one of god’s strange ironies I guess like the platypus or opossum. I don’t expect anyone to read the crazed rantings of what rattles around in that empty head of mine. Maybe someone will discover this and realize that it is ok. Its ok to feel like this and not hate yourself for it. Heck if you feel like this you already have enough reason to hate yourself you don’t need any more.
People may ask why I haven’t done it yet. I have often pondered that question when I slide a razor slowly across my skin wishing it were a lovers caress. Watching the red blood tickle its way down my arm trying to tantalize me into making the deeper, feeling more blood sliding down with a soft plink on the tile floor. I listen carefully enraptured by the feeling and the sound of blood slowly draining from my body. The blood caresses my flesh making me shiver and my eyes roll back just for a moment. God it would feel wonderful and decadent. But there are not that many people left in my world and the darkness is closing in.
I wish I could lose myself in the feeling. Let it be the only thing I feel, close off all my other senses to the blade, the blood, and the feel of it. I can feel your warm body beside me, behind me pushing me back against your bare chest. My head lulls against your shoulder surrendering myself to the sensation of the cold metal and your warmth. I can feel each cut, each time the blade slips inside my skin, the ultimate penetration. Not enough to kill be enough to feel it when we fuck later. The sex after is always desperate and frantic (at least for me) I am not sure if I am proving that I am alive or wanting you to plunge the knife deeper so that you can revel in the feel of my life, my blood pour out onto your flesh. Please
Today the wind slides across the black sand as I have decided to stay inside my cage for a while longer. I can see it blow tiny puffs of dust across the stark plain. In the distance A plumb of dust floats toward the swirling sky as if something is coming. I wonder vaguely what it could be before shaking my head and allowing it to hang down once again.
I take my finger and draw the symbols I once knew and once cared about. They seem strange to me I stare at them and try to make sense of what they should mean. Just as love once meant something, as did life, and hope. I wonder how I got this far, how I could bury myself so far inside. Yet to be glad that I did it it doesn’t hurt so much in my self made prison, I don’t feel as much the only thing that still stays with me is the knowledge that as soon as I am no longer needed I will no longer live. I will seek out death and make its acquaintance perhaps we will be friends when it is all over with.
The cold stings my knuckles as I quietly tap on the door knowing that you will hear it. I admonish myself yet again for not using my palm, knowing the bone on would tapping wood only cause pain. Footsteps echo in my head as I hear you approach the door and turn the handle. You know it is me, you knew I was coming the polite call that I placed first is always a warning.
I often wonder how you deal with the thoughts that float through the air between us. I can’t read you like I read everyone else and this is a good thing because despite the reason I am here I really don’t want to know. The door opens in a rush of warmth, you must have the heat on or maybe it is just my body reacting to the cat like grace you use to step aside to let me in. I move forward slowly, cautiously, still afraid you will spook like the wild thing that you are. Walking past you making sure that no part of you touches me because the tiniest touch will have me undone. Sitting down on the worn sofa my hand automatically reaches out to pet the feline that stretches lazily on the armrest. Touching the feline is almost as natural a gesture as it was to touch you. Soon the others are there curling around my legs asking quietly for the attention that they know instinctively that I will give them because they are as much a part of you as anything else in the room.
I watch you for a moment as you move through the house only glancing up to meet your soft brown eyes with their almost girlish lashes for a moment as you set the usual choice of beverage down next to me. Not a word is spoken, even though your voice would send a shockwave up my spine. You move to the chair that normally sits near your desk. Your eyes flitting over what covers the wall before resting on me for a brief moment and then on the television that plays an inane drama that neither of us is interested in. After a moment of indecision you move closer to me making me wonder if you know how dangerous you are to me. How addictive you are.
I am almost sure that you do. You use it well to control me without making it seem like that is what you are doing. I watch you out of the corner of my eye, my hand still moving restlessly over the cat soft fur sliding through my fingers. You speak softly telling me about the things that you do and those that you wish that you were doing. I listen more to the timber of your voice than the actual words. One of these days you will catch me listening to you rather than what you are saying, trying to understand why the voices quiet and the glass doesn’t seem as sharp when I am this close to you. I am tempted to reach out and touch you but am afraid that you will dissolve into darkness
Ok. Tonight I have the perfect chance to do what I want, to play how I want and quite possibly to get the dual sided affection I crave. Am I going to do it. No. Despite my desperation and absolute desire and longing I am not. All it would take is standing up getting into the shower and finding my keys (it has been a while since I have driving my truck oh fuck it there’s a spare) say screw my responsibility for ecstasy for just one night. No sex no obligation just pure unadulterated energy and something I have always wanted. I am almost tempted to stand and get dressed and go and then reality comes crashing down on me. I have lost too many friends speaking the truth what would happen if they knew how real the truth was for me. What if they knew what I am and what I want. I think they would run and I wouldn’t be able to stop screaming from the gaping hole that is just waiting to be reopened. i
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Take this phrase, I often used it with my students when I was a teacher.
“Let’s eat, Grandma” and
“Let’s eat Grandma” Two totally different meanings and a tiny thing like a comma makes so much of a difference. If you don’t get how, that is ok you probably need to go back to elementary school for other things as well… oh and YES I know I am an elitist snob but there is so much to make fun of about people sometimes I just can’t help myself. I would never do this to someone who honestly didn’t know or had no reason to learn it. But if you were in almost any westernized nation you would have heard something similar to this.
People say that you should not take LSD or hallucinogens because they bring up all of the dark and nasty thoughts that are in your subconscious. When I was younger I tried LSD several times and liked it. I am a dark
sort of person and therefore write and read dark sort of things. I like poking at the thing that resides in the blackest portion of everyone’s
brain and seeing what comes out. It’s fun. If you don’t want to know what is lurking in at least one person’s mind don’t read what I write. There is a dark corner in all of us I just dragged mine into the light introduced myself and asked it if it wanted me to get to know it a little bit more over say afternoon tea. That was a long time ago and now that dark corner and I are very good fr
iends. Some people run from darkness others embrace it and I was never one for running
Ok… so there is more than one annoying thing in this world but this just happens to be the latest. The quote that I use “And I find it kind of funny I find it kind of sad The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had” IS NOT FROM DONNY DARKO… not that I object to that movie it is not why I like that quote. The quote existed long before the movie and I use it because it is from a scene in a television show that sparked emotion in me. It made a kind of sense in a way that made me remember it. It being used for the movie Donny Darko makes no sense at all considering the movie and the song. Now that I am not sure if that makes much sense I am going to stop ranting about it now…
I want to know why my heart beats faster. What causes the tightness in my chest when I see certain things. They aren’t the things that you would ordinarily have this feeling for. I want to live in a dream. Not a particularly pleasant dream but a dream none the less. I know this is not normal and I know that I like the wrong things and it is not healthy, the constant desire to escape into something that is both infinitely worse and infinitely better. You see, the things in my dreams make grown men scream and these are not even the nightmares. I want to feel them, touch them break through the boundary, the thin veil that separates this reality from the next. No I am not talking about death I am talking about the feeling you get when you walk into a dark room and are reaching for the light switch… You know that feeling like there is something standing just inside the door waiting for you to touch your hand to its cold dead one because its hand is on the switch too. The sigh of relief you let out suddenly realizing you are holding your breath as your fingers flip that switch and light floods the room scaring all of the things that live in the dark back into the shadows. Secretly you are grateful as you admonish yourself for being uneasy because you know there is no such thing as monsters. I do the same thing only I would rather touch that cold hand covering the switch than have light flood the room. I would rather be invited across that veil just to see what is real.