a l t a r

Bodies atremble in the night
Flashes of light through leather straps
And down with a vengeance
Scarlet blood coursing along her back
(Let go
Let go)
A point past no return, a point of brilliant
Release!
She collapses to her knees
(BREAK ME)
Redemption pouring from slices in rivulets
Raining ecstasy on a carpet of sin
And while she begs for nothing proudly
She awaits salvation to come down again
(Let go
Let go)
Dreamers and desolate souls passing through
She’s come to an altar
(I want to let you ravish me like a demon
Like heaven before the fall)
Eyes raised to the ceiling making shapes in her mind
Press forward into darkness
Slips
What more is there than this?
What more is there than this?
Begging, utterly undone:
BREAK ME

Five Aspects of an Endless Longing

I.
Dreams so sweet I can hardly stand.
My hair tangled around your hand.

Heart beating in my throat,
So painfully loud,
I nearly choke.

My eyes, frightened but fierce with desire,
Searching your face
To fan the flames higher.

A flush paints my cheeks crimson,
A terrified smile haunts my lips,
I bow to your command;
I want no more than this.

II.
In articulo mortis

III.
(La petite mort)

IV.
Tonight I'm going to stare at the stars
And smile to myself.
If my hands were to stray,
If I were to start my dreaming,
It would be your fault.

V.
Feverish with longing,
Yet too afraid to ask,
I wait for you to notice.
I bet you do,
But you wait until I'm crazy,
And I hate that,
While my infatuation grows
In leaps and bounds.

No longer an issue

Should it feel like a hot iron
Exploding in my chest?
A lump of molten rage
Where my heart used to rest?
Unbidden to my mind,
To my idle, empty hands,
Come desires hot as fire
And an ache of pure unrest.
I am alone
Blind fingers grasping at the keys,
Typing teasing taunts
Bringing unsuspecting men to their knees.
Bring me under your command!
And I will serve loyally and true,
But the more you refrain from discipline
The more I drift away from you.



I wrote this on my FetLife. Because. I can. And also I don't have anything more original to say on here, so console yourselves with the fact that I just wrote it today.

Not poetry

What I want and what I have have always been two different things, even when I didn't know it. And it hasn't been shit like "I want a Honda but I have a Chevy," (although that happened, too, I just didn't mind because at least I had a vehicle) no, it's been more profound. Makes me wonder who I pissed off in a previous life. I'm sorry already! Can I catch a break just once?!

Everyone I've ever cared about has always lived in a different state, and even now that I'm living with a friend, there's someone I'd rather be with a thousand miles away (Blue, no offense, love). There are four places I can live in the U.S., none of them any closer to where I want to be, some of them as far as I can go and still stay in the continental. I keep telling myself that life just isn't meant to be fair, this is normal, this is basic shit. And yet...

I've ripped myself apart for everyone I've known, except one, at least once. Should I have to sacrifice like that? Should I have to be broken?

For over a month I thought I'd been abandoned by the only person I haven't changed to please. I'm not sure I can describe what a blow to my confidence that was, or the thoughts that haunted me throughout that time. I'm sick, I'm so fucked up, I'm wrong, I'm worthless, I should have known better. In a funny twist of fate, I hadn't been abandoned, I'd been treated to a taste of something I used to do: a withdrawal from society into my own personal hell. I was broken of it with a dose of someone else's selfishness, but that's another story.

And so I dip my pencil in the water and move on...

I took a walk today under a grey sky with tiny speckles of rain falling on my face. It was decently chill, a pleasant surprise. I meant to write some poems, and did indeed write one, but it was nothing worth sharing; a waste of paper. I haven't managed to write anything exceedingly brilliant in quite a while, not since the night I read a friend's poem and wrote a frenzied response (a highly edited version made it on here, one not written in the heat of the moment). Perhaps I shouldn't push it, maybe beg my muse to speak with me, maybe search for a new one.

I showed a friend a drawing of mine recently. It was a practice sketch of the female form. I've been trying very hard to teach myself to draw better, and while I'm not the worst out there *coughthirdgraderscough*, I'm certainly not an artist. I enjoy drawing, but it will never be anything more than a hobby of mine, and not even one that I do very often. Anyway, I asked for some pointers on how to make it better and my friend said, "Just draw what you see."

But I see words. I see everything as a poem or a story. On my walk, I saw beautiful things that I instantly started crafting a verse for, or turned a quick phrase to capture, much like snapping a photograph. No artist am I, merely a wandering poet.

Passing Through the Woods

Inner turmoil like burning oil
(Refreshing)
Save me from my own desires,
Like a midwinter blaze
I am surrounded by ice.
Teach me something
(Inspirational nonsense)
Teach me something!
I will not beg
No dog, no cowering demon,
Oh, child with a wicked tongue!
Oh, child filled with desire!
No cowering demon am I,
No blistered body shaking,
SHE HAS GROWN HER WINGS
and flies silently away
(This is the day)
Heed!
Four years, two months, six days.
Swing low, sweet chariot,
For I have miles to go before I sleep.

Don't Keep Me in the Dark

Doorways stand open in the night,
I will hold open my hand for only so long a time.
Darkening days, my melody of life,
My melody of moving on to the next chapter.
Who's to say I deserve to be happier?
Mistakes are made and unmade in each hour,
Seconds overlapping to caress the rocks,
The sea speaking
(I shouldn't be shocked)
It's not that I didn't know, it's that I hoped,
And again today I am quietly alone.
Situationaly speaking, it's nothing new,
And I can even understand why it's me who is in this place,
Better me than anyone else.
I wonder if I was merely a distraction from the real world?
YOU asked me that once,
Now I ask you,
JUST TELL ME THE TRUTH:
If you don't want me anymore,
"My apologies for darkening your door".


Four years, two months, eight days

Today's trivia: The first band I ever made on Rock Band was called Darkened Doorway. The second was Orison.

Always On the Outside

Because there's no place for me within.
Stalking rooms with empty noises spewing,
Spouting nothing to be consumed by a void.
I'm not one with whom you should toy.
Something not right, holding on too loose,
And every other word grinds past my vision
Except I missed nothing of the nothing you said.
I a m s i c k
And it's about time I admitted it,
Except this sickness draws certain others near
And then I'm not the only one here,
So is it so wrong to be something else?
I have to stalk these rooms at night, shaded red,
Shaded black, whispering under the screaming vortex
Of the known.
I should just have stayed home
Except this sickness compels me to flee from the silence
And then there I am, letting someone in again,
Hoping that for maybe just a little while
I don't have to be so lonely.
But it doesn't work that way.
Because afterwards, after the possession and depression and
Elation,
After they've gotten what they wanted,
I'm still alone

Fuck It

I can honestly say that I hate myself.
I hate who I am
I hate what I want
I hate what I have
I hate what I need
I hate the fact that I am still degrading the earth with my presence.

And I HATE that people tell me I should be grateful.



It's not cheating if I'm the only fucking one here!