Month: October 2015

Thoughts on friendship

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I am baffled by how casually people count friends and friendship. Seemingly, people drop in and out of their lives and this is acceptable to them. If I put in the effort to cultivate friendship I expect it to last. To be worth more than casual acquaintance.

Friends are the family I choose. I love my friends, would do harm for my friends, in some cases sacrifice my life for them. I am terrible at expressing how much I love and value them.

So when I see this oh so casual behavior, it makes me afraid. Afraid that my trust and heart is misplaced, and afraid that perhaps they do not see how much they are loved. Or more distressing, that they simply do not care.

Lessons I need to learn.

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Just because I can’t sleep, doesn’t mean others can’t sleep. Also known as the 3 AM is a bad time to text people rule.

Stop telling people about your past. It may come from a sincere desire to be honest but their reactions tend to be either overwhelmed or more interested in who you were than who you are now.

Stop being defensive about your age.
That number only grows bigger. And there is nothing you can do about it.

Wait for replies to your texts and emails. Not everyone has your fanatical need to respond to every communication.

Stop worrying when you don’t receive a response, people have lives. And you didn’t ask a question, dumbass.

No matter how deeply you feel or how beautiful your words, you can’t make someone love you. You have a real problem with this one.

Stop posting things at Four in the morning (nope)

Lost time

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I feel like I lost eight years of my life to sorrow.  I learned some coping skills and eventually found myself again but I feel like I lost the time when I should have been having relationships and going places and doing things to eight years of looking inward.  I see the world so differently now. But my outward self shows the appearance of someone whose life ground to a halt.

  I think I’m writing this in a desperate attempt to quell other thoughts, foolish hope full thoughts, not of the whole of my desire, but of the faintest chance. 

Can’t write

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I can’t write this story. My mind keeps slipping away. My heart burns a slow fire.  I can’t focus on anything.  I lose myself for minutes at a time.  I am rarely this unfocused.  My mind slips and finds itself where it should not be.  Or maybe should be, where it most desires to be.  My mind goes perhaps in the hope that my body will somehow follow. But in vain.  I cannot make this choice.  So I wait. And though I may wait forever and though I may not achieve my desires, I am hopeful. But still, I can’t write.

That which is sacred

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I’m a dark dream.
I shine in spectrums felt more than seen. Sing with voice deep,
full of pain and promise.
Dance with abandon,
scream to the stars
and drink deeply from the hallows of the world.
I stand sentinel over the broken.
I am the solace of winter silence.
The fury of the storm.
I am the hush of sun’s slow dying.
I send you He Who Walks Between, He Who Watches.
I send you the dream of darkness turning.
The softness of storms ending.
The rush of Springs beginning.
Know this and know you are home

Comes round

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Trip and burn spinning down
Reflected time, intoxicated failure
Life and life and life until what passes for ordinary is laughable farce
Immediate becomes false start
Want to shed this skin
Become what was when what was was of use
This chai latte safe world
Pointedly pointless
A dream I can’t wake from

Thoughts on what passes for consent.

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So,  I just took a traipse through several blogs that were talking about consent in BDSM. I frankly found the content there frightening. Not just in what is considered consent: Outside of edge play, which not all are suited to despite their desires, the Dominant should not lose control. As the dominant, you should not allow yourself to be so taken in by whatever activity you are engaged in, that you edge into non-consent.  There is a difference between play fear and real fear, and if you see real fear, then you need to call yellow yourself.  You need to check, that consent is still given.  You cannot just assume that once given it is given for the scene entire.  Consent is not one and done.  It is a continual affirmation that they are good to go.  For some dominants,  that is not what they want to hear.  They want to hurt, to cause pain,  and the thin veneer of initial consent is enough to get them to act.  That is Sadism.  Which itself is fine,  within the strict limits of control.  If you yourself, are unable to maintain that control then it may help to have a 3rd party present.  To ref the action.  If you so lose yourself, that you cannot determine consent from non-consent then that is a problem.  Not insurmountable,  but measures should be taken.  Safe, Sane, and Consensual.  It is not just a catchphrase. I take safety and Consent very seriously.  And I check to see that my actions at least are sane.  You cannot be engaged in dangerous play of any kind without rules.  That is in play as much for BDSM as it is for knife fighting, or blood play, or underground fighting. Rules are made and enforced to keep us all safe.  And keep a nurse or doctor on hand if possible, I’m not saying that non-consent cannot be roleplayed.  I’m saying that as the dominant, you do not get a free ride to do whatever the hell you want.  you must be aware at all times. I know a few who are dipping their toes into the life. And I am genuinely afraid for them, the wrong top or master and it could ruin the experience.    I have been called too safe. Too in control. Perhaps.  But I have seen the results of the other way.

On waking

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Dance with me among the pines
Drink from the golden cup
All my enemies are now thine
And all my allies too

Eat with me this leaven bread
Drink with me this wine
All fears and sorrows have now fled
Before the graceful hart

Dance with us
Kindred and kine
Bound and boundary
Between Breathe and rime

Sing to us our joining
All bravely made
All dreams defied

But dreams must end
‘Ere memories fled

But, In our wake
Wisdom bind
To dream within a dream

Slice

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What sympathy of transgression
Or mortal words
Or callous rime

In fear, in symbolitry
A solipsistic jaunt

Turn, but turn, but turn
Turn and be found

So spoke, so dreamed
Found cradle
The bright lights seethe

Cauldron bound
Chaos demonstrates it’s order
Slip on by

Ozone

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Sift me from sand
Grain by grain, paint my picture
Line and curve
Stitch and blow
Until I stand complete
Awaiting the storm