Change

I feel gripped by something. Something deep within. Dark, dull, and bland framed in variants of grey. Something at a core level that's hungering but sounding continually like low intensity
warfare. Everyday a signal. Everyday a pang of hunger. A wave of nausea or ripple of emptiness. Somewhere it's there in the dark ocean of experience sounding deep. A psychological current
of injury: torn halves broadcasting in painful alarm. And that something at the core asking over and over again in a voice nearly silent and a language I don't understand.

So out of a faux winter I'm supposed to be emerging, but my head feels heavy and my shoulders weak. I've vented the energies of anger and injury and left myself to trundle and blunder.
I've said OK to love and allowed the full spectrum of damage. Voices from far off and inaudible, sounding attacks even still. Duplicitous monsters spanning multiple generations.

It's time I watch me change. It's time I watch me re-attach wings and stand upright. You see, I was right all along, and wrong to doubt it.

And for that reason alone, I'm angry.

Ever the fool....

...I believe in Love. And to speak and impart Love with honesty is everything.

Arwen spoke it with conviction and never wavered! Does anyone like this exist in the real?

Owned

Back and down I lay, voyaging into the eve, near a kernel of soft glow tinged incarnadine, longing for Saya. I am gripped by the rememberance of her taking and empty with longing. With tears my eyes for the possesor of my heart, who silently approaches from victories far off, but for the sound of swift arrows.

My owner, desiring me in the deep pitch, and in pastures of dark green aliance, sensing my anticipation and surrender.

My owner, slight, wrapped in silk, with eyes dark as oblivion cased in brilliant xanthic shimmer.

My owner, for whom my loins cry.

Backward and downward I lay, my cherished, at the bottom of night, imagining your taking once again. Pinned by you, my powerful killer. Helpless and mastered, sliding over a shelf of self control into a deep trench of experience. Pulsed further with each wave. Rythmic and all powerful. In that soft light, I see the outline of your head, beautiful and purposeful. And the outline of your hips, inbound and stronger then the last. Crushing me. Controlling me.

The sweet scent of candles hang about. The soothing hush of wind through the leaves. My head pressed deep into warm pillows.

And at the hollow of my neck you puncture. And from the flow of my heart, you feed, dearest Saya. My wonderful wife. My killer in the dark hours. My lover from the dark realms, vibrating with satisfaction. I, captured and drunk with sensation, tingling to my now numb hands, quaking through my core, and sounding out instinctually, I slide off into the deepest dream to always wake at your breast. Fed and cradled.

Venture far not, my cherished, beautiful, kind, and wonderful killer. Silent and invisible in the afternoon bright. Return swiftly, Saya, my love, for my battles end at sunset and my longings rest with you.

Sun Goddess

I was in love before. When it was done with me, it sent me far beyond the borders of the present. It moved me across soft lands of antiquity and over deep watery graves. Through the skies of renaissance and over the horrors of revolution to where I circled above the grey layer with a swarm of bombers. The myriad gentlemen below, forever wet, and forever pondering.

All the time this happens, it seems, on triple 7's or RB211's. Over water and space. Over nothing of consequence and normally taking me someplace of little consequence. Taking me someplace just as empty as the last. Just as gutting as the previous. Someplace requiring my own vanity and imagination to keep from going mad.

Will this always be the wreckage of love? Am I the only fool? Will I continue to let these things sap rage and energy?

The truth? All I feel comfortable in now is being lost. Lost someplace with rocky shores or thorny desserts. Waters made clear by the stains of a barbaric history or beaches rocky and littered with jellyfish. With people that don't know me, but will hug me and feed me just the same. For it seems those hospitable strangers are far safer then those that declare love, honesty, and fidelity.