The heat pours down
Liquid and languid
Cell walls filling in
Flowing inward
The weight of it bears down
Painful but on pleasures ragged edge
Breathe comes faster, body tightening
But
Like a poor lover, foreplay without the payoff
Exhilaration in the beginning
Dwindling down to “stop, enough”
I don’t care what sexual organs you have. I’m attracted to whom I’m attracted to. It’s all just skin on skin, pleasures ragged and jaded. A kissable mouth wrapped in a dirty mind. That’s my type.
Summer is fading, it’s falling, it’s failing
Heat running out of the world
Fueling the dervish spinning and frenetic dance of life’s diminishing
Shelter taken in stolen moments
Arms holding, keeping the cold at bay
Heat leeched out, mirage of warmth
False start leads tumultuous slip
Winter flows into shallows filling up summer’s forgotten dwells
Cold Embracing summer warmth
Lovers passing
Concrete angel radio edit| gareth emery
This side of paradise| Hayley kiyoko
Illusion| VNV nation
Breathe Easy| Rachel Sermanni
Funeral Night| Bella Morte
Oh, Gloria| Aesthetic Perfection
Beauty| Wolf Colony
Bones|cash+David
In The Dirt|Bella Morte
Razorblade|Amaranthe
Down the burning Ropes|James Vincent McMorrow
The Ghost inside|broken Bells
Haunt(demo)|Bastille
A whiter shade of pale(live in italy) Procul Harum
The world ender| Lord huron
Radio| Aiden
Colorblind | counting crows
The world spins madly | The Weepies
The end of the end | Bella Morte
Beyond the Hourglass | I am ghost
Porcelain Doll| Megan McAuley
Boom boom| John Lee hooker
Addicted to you | Avicii
Swamped| lacuna coil
22 carat tear jerker | xploding plastique
Aspiration feed| Grendel
Dance me to the end of Love | Madeleine peyroux
Ain’t no sunshine | bill withers
Take me to church | Hozier
Live wire| oh wonder
Cursive eve (zero tolerance treatment by deathboy) i:scintella
Mother and father | broods
Retaliate | VNV nation
Elixir | Angelspit
In the dark | Cathedrals
All that talking | cat empire
(Redacted)
Keep on swinging | rival suns
Habits| tove lo
There is a surprising degree of romantic thought that goes into Bdsm play. As master, I construct the scene. I create the space, the framework that my submissive can step into. We’ll have had the Negotiation well ahead of time. I prefer a date somewhere public to have that discussion. It allows me to gauge the degree of exhibitionist they are, allows me to see how comfortable with the lifestyle and degree of interest in the various acts. For many, the public setting puts them off balance and allows space for honesty. That’s just the initial meeting, I use text and fantasy scenarios to see what space they want to explore. Pleasure is all well and good, but discovery of something new or a variation is often better.
I say romantic because the scenario preplay is idealized and postplay it’s often misremembered through the haze, (if it was good). I, unfortunately, can’t do that. Forget enough to fill in pieces, I mean. I have a specific type of sense memory. I remember people I have been romantically entangled with. I remember each touch, and a few minutes after touch with crystalline clarity. It is a curse.
Fingertips pressed
hands clasped,
sliding arm against arm
then embrace
eye to eye
tongue on tongue
melding together distinct but
intermingled
tongue on tongue
eye to eye
embrace
pulling away
hands clasped
fingertips pressed
distance
apart and alone
This is one of those days when I wish I had a play partner who just wanted pure edge masochistic play. I don’t often need that. Usually, I’m more interested in pain/pleasure thresholds and the blending of one into the other. But sometimes, only screams and blood will satisfy. I worry sometimes, does that make me a monster.
Hold this sunset in your heart, you’ll need it when the darkness closes in
This night too, its calmness, its moon
When beauty is fleeting and all else is bleak
Hold these pieces of my gift to you
Watch the storm shake the sky and the rumble growls
Know strength and I’m beside you
In terror and hope, in love and despair
See truth in the world,
this is my prayer
As pendulum swings and time presses on I’ll not always be here for you, everything ends even gods, even faith
So I ask that you see, that you hear, that you know
Bind these shattered stars, these jagged memories, bind them and see the boundless unfurl
’till all comes round again
An aspect of mining my sexual history and emotional states is I no longer have any fear of exposure for my proclivities or for how I feel. Oh, you found out about my depressions, would you like to read some poetry about it? You found out I like leather, would you like to read a story about how far I take that?
I dreamed of that I, a friend, his wife (another friend) and a couple of others had created something technological and interesting, a game that tapped into sociological, psychological archetypes to immerse the player in a truly augmented reality. Not just vr, but an overlay to consciousness. We were in talks with a major investor who had decided to show us a good time. They took us to a concert at a musical conservatory but this one had a dance floor made of parquet in the shape of a nautilus shell. The steps down were steep so I was holding my hand to steady the ladies as they stepped down the extremely narrow staircases. One in particular, touched my hand and a thrill of electricity passed between us. We bantered and on seeing the dance floor, I asked her to dance. Though, at best, my dancing could be considered enthusiastic. The party started to bore so we in the company donned our AR glasses and I booted up a music program where we could interact with a bunch of different musicians. Talk or request songs. Hear stories from them. It was something new I’d put together for us.
I remember us talking about it and to artists like George Clinton and others. Then I felt a sense of profound loss and I woke up.
Pelgris 