The storm forgives us all

Clock spins round
Heart sinking with the sun
Steps away from home
Lost chances to be in your arms
Turmoil storm
Calling
Saying you will do anything
Poor substitute for actually doing it
Each unwilling to take that comprise step
Unwilling…unable
Still stretched arm hoping
Fingers straining
Heartbeat pounding
Maybe…
Maybe…
Sigh
Maybe it’s too much to ask
Too much trust
For someone never seen
Only known
A blood stained Symphony
Hoping there’s time
Knowing there rarely is
Gods and monsters
Telling me to go
Still
I am afraid

My hope for the future

For me, my day to day application of being a Sir is to aid those in my care. They aren’t my claimed submissive. It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone who was that. And I do miss it.

But, still, the people in my care receive the watered down version. The guide instead of the commander. While both have their place, I only display the guide without prior explicit consent.

Sometimes that is enough. It has to be enough. Because there is no one clambering at my gates demanding to submit to me. And I’m without romantic relationship right now. I no longer play just to play. I find it empty. I need the care and connection to care. To take care of my submissives needs, even in play. Otherwise it’s just robotic going through the motions, push this button, get this response.

I have no use for that. I don’t feel connected when it’s just sex. For me, that’s not a thing. I am way too far into my head for that to matter. But seeing the delight, the fear, the pain, the pleasure of a partner? Of my good girl or boy? That is worth something. That has meaning. Everything else is just mechanics. And that is ever what I look for. Not just a play partner but a real partner. Nothing less is worth the pain.

The truth about intentions and poetry

What I want is not relevant
I am aware of this
No matter what I do or say or write
Nothing changes
And I don’t expect it to
There is no epiphany point that I can lead you to
No clarity to be had
What truths exist in my work
Exist in yourself
You uncover
You discover
I write out of need
To bleed the poison in my hurt out onto the page
To remove the disaster from my heart
Sometimes that disaster is from other people
But mostly it’s from my emotional state
And even when it concerns someone else
It’s not ABOUT them
The only case where it might be is in joy
In poem as seduction
But even then
You are the discoverer of your own feelings
I can only hold a mirror up to my truth
What you see in it
That’s beyond my control

Covered in blood, blinking, “See everything’s ok”

Resting blank face
Eyes alight behind a mask of unmoving skin
No smile
No frown
Permanent thousand yard stare
“Who are you trying to intimidate,” they ask
No one
No one
This is a defense
The one lie I allow
To hide the pain that courses just beneath the surface
Just under the distraction
Just under the distance
Keeping questions at bay
As much as possible
You learn not to ask how I’m doing
Because that’s spoken true
So instead
Blank mask
Fool yourself into thinking
He’s ok
It’s easier
Even as I drown a little more
History full of lost chances
Dead ends
And silence

Step by step, find your way to me

Sometimes I think that my life is a path
Worn away
Wind and rain and casual travelers
All taken this care worn road
Erasing the lines
Until all someone might find beautiful
Is erased
Who will find their way
To marvel and dream along my haunted shores
No longer shiny or new
Who will follow to paths ending
The garden
Starving
Dying on the edge of love
Forgotten
But still
Tenaciously
Holding on