Faint trembles, breaking

Sinister shadow, drown blood
Last trip
Down darkforged paths
Wait, turn
Light spreads tendrils on glass
Cast light becomes sift
Rain slips through cracks
Wounds weep
Poisonous streams
Dark river untouched
Break
Breathe free
Shaped
echo quiets
Last murmur before waking
Calm depths
Soft touch
And a kiss pursed
Bitter, shivering, cold
Eyes pour warm
Welcome
Last embrace, tears, and a empty
Dawn

Meet me in the midnight sky

Meet me in the midnight sky
My love
My light
My heart
Dance with joy and kisses

Oh dancer of the midnight sky
Oh kiss, oh love
This absence tracks salt and wet

Once mortal, once get
Smile gently
I cannot, will not forget

When I was blind
It was you
When I was scared
It was you
When I was lost
It was you

It has always been you.
Some journeys are merely longer than others

What a step on the road may herald

What words do I speak when all words turn about and about to face towards you
like power lines running beneath the surface carrying me forwards
Dying on the vine for the sound of a voice
But choose and choose again,
You are no passing indulgence or forward desire but vital to all
Just a pill and a show and a soul laid bare
Found alive, at the start, at the end
Of long journeys beginning

Valentine’s day 29-Sara

Pel has tripped headlong into wild abandon. The burn as my arms are wrenched almost to the breaking point. The smooth feel of the soft cool wood against my face. The feel of him filling me up. Taking everything that’s his. That I give him freely.

It ends too soon. My body twitches and yearns for one more minute, one more hour of time with him. But we can’t leave Tara alone for too long. When I found Tara, she seemed really decisive and put together. It turns out, that was a well entrenched facade that has crumbled away.

I love her to pieces but I don’t like what her presence is doing to my marriage. We have to be laser focused on her needs most of the time. We chose not to have kids. We don’t even have pets because our lives are normally so busy that we’d hardly see them. But here we are trying to help a emotionally and physically abused young lady.

We need to sit down and have a talk about our goals moving forward. I’m not happy with getting the short end of the stick all the time and I don’t think Tara is getting the help she needs. We’ll talk after tonight.

This is all dancing through my head while my hands gently take care of Pels cuts and abrasions. He’s pushed his body to the limits trying to take care of our physical needs. I can see the Exhaustion in him. I know that he wants nothing more than to call quits and curl up with us both and read a book or watch TV. But he keeps pushing, trying to show no weakness. And I know that’s because of Tara. He’s called halt before with me and we’ve rested.

I’m going to need to call it, I think. He can’t lose face. Which again proves he’s not in the headspace to commit to Tara. If he was he could let his guard down and be less than perfect.

Tara. That poor girl. Pel left the dossier out in plane sight behind the wall painting and in his work safe. Her previous master, and I use the term loosely, beat her, broke her. He would hurt her for compliance, for failure, because it was Tuesday. He’d force her to watch from her cage while he hurt other women. Then beat her for each time she looked away. The only reason she got away is because he broke her completely and, in his words, she wasn’t any fun anymore.

It’s good that Pel murdered him. I’m happy he did. Fuck, it’s too bad you can’t kill someone twice. But that leaves us with sweet Tara. She really is smart and kind. But everything makes her flinch. Makes her spiral. I didn’t know what I was getting us into.
She was my choice. Pel wanted one of the older office managers. He said she reminded him of one of his grade school teachers. One he’d always wanted to do naughty things with. A precocious scamp was young Pel.

Still, he should have shared Tara’s background check before we made the invitation to live with us. That was my fault for letting him get away with that. Plus he sprung it on me in the afterglow of about 50 orgasms, my head wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders. I could have said no later but it seemed like we’d be able to do this.

I glance over to the doorway. Pel has gone stark still. I can’t even see his chest rising with breathe. Then he’s gone. I can hear his heavy footfalls as he runs across the living room. I move to the doorway and see him cradling Tara and singing to her.

Fuck! Something we did or she saw triggered her. I glance at the clock and see that she’s been alone for a little over thirty minutes. Fuck, fuck, fuck! We’ve not left her alone for more than 15 minutes in the last six months and at the beginning not more than 5.

I pad over to where Pel has our Tara cradled in his arms, singing some nonsense verse that I know he invented on the spot. I press myself against Tara, the feel of flesh against flesh. Warmth spreading between us. Her soft cries breaking my heart.

Enter the fray

I’m having this problem where I can’t write because I’m happy. An envious problem to have but it makes all this noise just a bit harder to pull to signifier. Because the well of black feeling erases under the thought of you. And plans for the long term slam into place like bank vaults but it’ll be a minute before they’ll open. No swift thing, no arrow, no soon over thing. Instead a juggernaut just getting started, focused on an us. But still, my words spill out, only into your ears and not for the wide. I’d sing you aloud and scream to the sky. Reminding the deep blue of times gone by when they were dust and stars together and they were being fed up with the dawn. We are bound and bound by choose and choice and the hard truth a hand in hand, facing a future side by side

Valentine’s Day – Pel and Sara – 1 thru 28

Valentine’s day Prologue

Valentine’s day 1

Valentine’s day 2

Valentine’s day 3

Valentine’s day 4

Valentine’s day 5

Valentine’s day 6

Valentine’s day 7

Valentine’s day 8

Valentine’s day 9

Valentine’s day 10

Valentine’s day 11

Valentine’s day 12

Valentine’s day 13

Valentine’s day 14

Valentine’s day 15

Valentine’s day 16

Valentine’s day 17

Valentine’s day 18

Valentine’s day 19

Valentine’s day 20

Valentine’s day 21

Valentine’s day 22

Valentine’s day 23

Valentine’s day 24

Valentine’s day 25

Valentine’s day 26

Valentine’s day 27

Valentine’s day 28

 

Presentation vs self

There is nothing so insidious, so violently wrong, as a person who acts in negative polar opposition to the persona they show in public.

The gregarious kindly man who in private is cold and manipulative. The polite and sincere person who beats their spouse. The person who presents piety and faith but privately builds power and influence to the furtherance of individual goals.

I’m not a perfect man. I have a hidden side. We all do. But if the facade is a conscious manipulation to conceal ones true self, because that true self is destruction, then that is incorrect action.

Concealment of the core self is a coping mechanism for a cruel world. But this is turned on its head, concealment of the core self because the core self is cruel and at a level of selfish cruelty that society would not accept.

Our society describes this as a narcissist or a psychopath. As if labeling it makes it controllable. As if labeling it, makes it treatable. On some level, yes, if caught early enough, systems of thought can be implemented that set up what is and is not allowed by the person in such a way that their mask becomes integral to who they are. But doing so is precarious and not without risk. The risk being the backlash should the mask be ripped away.

At the end of the day, such people are corruption. They subvert people, systems, societies. All to aggrandize their self. They pull you in with beautiful lies then twist until you are slipping away.