my hands are wrapped
most lovingly and firmly
and i feel the wood beneath them
above me
and i try not to be distracted
because the bindings are not tight enough

but she is placing a darkness
over me
so that sound and touch
come to be in vivid recollection
as i follow the path of her whip
through the air
inches from me
upon me

and all my anger with you
all my tears
all the terrible certainty of reality
and the pain of being worthless
are quelled
are pulled from me with each backlash
over and over
she gives me sweet repose
again and again
she disciplines me
calm

and when i am finished
when she has held me close to her
and made me feel more wanted than i can describe
i feel nothing
i care about nothing
and none of your lies
none of your manipulation
means anything to me

i am not her
your dark angel
and i cannot be
and she has stolen you from me
before i had a chance

and when she wants you
what will i become?
nothing at all
yet i stay here with you

o i am a slave to be touched...



[link]



so the 14th was my birthday. 24, virtually unemployed, virtually single, but housed, that's a plus. i am waiting for my body to forget that i am deathly allergic to my kitten. currently this is manifesting in one eye swollen till it bruised, and tissues rolled up into nasal tampons. not quite becoming. i am leaking everywhere it seems.

but i spent the 13th surviving very very bad luck and bad news, and bad feelings, and emerged into the 14th with a very bruised but happy bottom, and a trans-like state of absolute happiness. best birthday present ever. why has it taken me so long to find this?

an amusing thought occurred to me yesterday. my networking skills have successfully introduced me to the BDsM scene. not working so well in the employment department though. it's kinda funny i find it easier to ask for a spanking than a job.

last night was one of those very bad nights. an anniversary i would rather forget. i had a full on session that has just spilled over to the point of no return. like the ones i used to have. ripped up all my old wounds. i feel awful, ugly, disgusting. i need a recovery, a pilgrimage. i need to not be so confused all the time. i need to believe in something and not doubt it every time i spend time away from it.

i ramble. bleh. i haven't slept well lately. i mean, i always sleep. i sleep a shitload. insomnia isn't an issue for me. i just have vivid confusing and stressful dreams that leave me exhausted when i wake. too many voices. too much screaming. i feel like i'm stuck in a madhouse. i mean, i am sane, perfectly sane. it's these other things inside my head that are insane. and i want out.