I am alone. And so poems and stories about lust make me feel connected. Like if someone thinks ‘hmm, that sounds lovely’ I am less alone. But I still wake, without someone in my arms. This is my fault of course. If I wanted to wake up beside someone, I could find a companion for the night. If I relaxed my criteria. If one night was all I wanted. I long for what I once had. But perhaps it was a once in a lifetime. Perhaps we were shooting stars racing to find which would flare out first. I’m tired of sifting sand, looking for the pearl. Perhaps I should reconcile to the fact that the type of person I desire will always be with someone else. They are too beautiful to not have found there hearts companion. I had my chance. It’s over.
Month: February 2016
Lust fades to memories
I would give voice to other than lust but find, in these haunting seconds twixt witching moon and the long dark, find my heart empty. Or not empty, but rather ravaged by flames that course through, burning out all thought but you. You, spread inviting on my crimson bed. You, legs pressed around me, back against the wall. You, pale ass tantalizing and taunting. You, riding, your eyes black with desire. My face buried in you, your hands in my hair. Your moans, your shudders. Your pleasure bound at the end of my tongue.
But you are far away from me, We are long lost to each other and I am alone. Sitting in the pale light of approaching dawn.
My Morgan. My Morrigan.
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Needs
I would
Take you if I could
Taste you
Touch you
Slip myself inside you
Rub against your pleasure
Drink in your desire
Feel your flesh
Lick your sweet sweat
Nuzzle nipple
Set teeth until I mark you as mine
Push my tongue into your ass
I want nothing more than to while away the days and nights in your pleasure
To spend myself on the altar of your skin
Hear your voice tumbling through my bones
Gods, I need you
Your every desire given voice and made real by my will
Never enough
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Dream lover
I keep dreaming, and in my dreams you find me. And sometimes I screw up and you go away. And sometimes I screw up and you give me another chance.
Sometimes you betray me, and I want to stick to my principles and walk away. Sometimes I do and my life crumbles like a mansion built on the side of a hill in a mudslide. Sometimes I walk and it adds to the weight of loss I already carry. Sometimes, I forgive you but the relationship is never the same.
Sometimes we forgive each other and are stronger for it. Sometimes we make it work, a lifetime of joy and hardships, lived out in the span of a night.
Each time I wake enough in the dream I send out, recklessly, where I am. What I look like. Hoping you are a dreamwalker too and that you’ll remember and find me or when I find you, you will see me and think that’s the guy. The one I dream about. Maybe it’s foolish or crazy to believe in magic and this idea.
Maybe, but what if we are looking for each other and this is the avenue open to us? I’ll take it, if I can find you. And if I don’t, we don’t, then the lifetimes we live in dreams will have to be enough. I’ll meet you there my sweet dream.
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What’s happening in my life
So I asked someone out via email, I know, tacky. But she’s on my floor at work and some discretion seemed to be in order. And she’s replied and I am sandbagging. I think that the answer is no. To be fair, I always assume that the answer will be no, just to protect myself a bit. So, I’m not opening the message yet because right now the answer could be yes. It could be enthusiastic and happy. So right now, the cat could be alive. It’s a schroedingers cat situation and I prefer that the cat be alive.
So the unboxing…
And the answer is… No.
Ah well, such is life
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Dream
I dreamed I was crossing this busy street by my house, that there was a woman there and that she was crossing the street too she pointed out a oil slick and I walked right through it saying ” my shoes have great traction”. I went on and on about them and she smiled and asked questions. I was very proud of those shoes. We got to our destination in this vast parking lot, my truck. Usually in these dreams where my truck features, I can’t find it. I’m giving her a ride somewhere I pull out my keys and when I, a large man steps from the shadows and demands my keys. I tell him not a chance and he says “fine, I’ll just take it”. I pull my blade from a pocket and flip out the blade. He pulls out a 4 inch knife. I rush him, then hear a shot ring out. My companion took out a gun and shot him, quick as you please. I look over at her and say. “I had it handled.” she says, oh yeah, what were you going to do? Get stabbed until he got tired. No. I retorted, I was going to take the first hit in my stomach and then stab him. Great plan she says, I especially love the part where you get stabbed, stupid. Then we are driving and we just arrive, at her destination. I see that there is blood on my clothes so I go over to some kind of secret cache that has a washing machine. I take off my clothes and set them to wash, and I step into the shower. The whole time she is right there with me, keeping up a conversation. I am utterly unselfconscious around her. We talk while I shower. We end up going back to my place and we are talking with my sister about music, going through a new lot of music and then it cuts to us sitting back to back, holding each other up while my family talks about something or other. Her hand finds its way under my shirt and she is fondling my pecs. I return the gesture then we get up and go to my room, she sits on the bed then we cut forward to her leaving in a vehicle purchased by my father for her. For saving my life. I try to get her to stay but she says if I try to keep her too close I’ll lose her. I let her go. That scene or variants of that scene occur several times. Each time I’m more desperate for just a few minutes more with her. She comes back into my life and she’s in trouble. Some Russian drug dealer wants this pill she stole. I only care that she was in trouble, I set up a elaborate plan that involves a rival drug kingpin. Set it up so there is an apparent double cross and they take each other out while we walk out of the meet unharmed. We are holding hands and happy. . Fade to black. No memories of the dream then but I wake to my brain singing, “going to the chapel and I’m gonna get married”. And I mean actually singing it not dreamed. But as I wake
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Some cliff notes to my brain
I know what I want, say what I mean and try not to play games. But game playing seems to be expected, and if I like the person enough, I’ll play. For a time. But there comes a point where I am ready to stop playing and that’s the point where many of my relationships end. Either because they only liked the game and not me or they think that me stopping the tilt-o-whirl is another game.
I say that after the fact in some cases because often I’m not playing a game. I’m going after you hard because I’m interested in you. And if you give what you think are signals, well that’s too bad. If you want to be kissed, ask or kiss me. Consent weighs so heavy in my mind that unless you say you want something I’m unlikely to make a move that isn’t slow or cautious.
Past basic flirting, I’m not playing, I’m in earnest. But because consent is so important maybe it comes off as game playing? I am very up front about who I am, what I like, how important consent is. Does my honesty play out as another game?
Last thing, my brain does not operate on the premise that sex is the goal. I’ve…grown jaded with that. Some see getting people to fuck you as power. I prefer the more equitable exchange that BDSM provides. And sex as pleasure just leaves me feeling empty after, not during. But there is so much more after than during.
My brain operates on the premise that real emotional connection is the goal. What I call love. I say “I call” because I have the sneaking suspicion that what I call/think of as love is different than how others view it. For me, it is devotion and loyalty. Affection and lust, for your mind as well as your physicality. Seeing your flaws and loving you despite. Who you are, everything that makes you, you. That’s how I love. And, critically, I don’t demand that we be the totality of each other’s worlds. I think, perhaps, the fierceness with which I love is confused with obsession or controlling. It’s not. I’m passionate, thats true. I want a partnership, that’s also true. In a open or poly relationship I want to be a primary, but that’s the extent of the possessiveness. Maybe that throws people for a loop? I can’t know.
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Honesty
It has occurred to me lately that I seem to have lost some of my ability to discern lies from truth. Not a self deception, I still question my motives and actions thoroughly to make sure they come from a place of honesty. No, not self deception, but the lies of others. Perhaps in deciding to be honest and open about who I am, what I want and how I think…Perhaps by living this way, I’ve lulled myself into believing that others are as honest as myself. I am aware that we often see our thoughts and actions, our intentions, mirrored in others. Even if that is not the actual intention of those others. Perhaps that is the ramifications of living honestly. Each choice must be measured by its cost. Perhaps by being open and honest I incur the cost of allowing others the space to deceive. But it conversely allows them the space to be as honest as I. Perhaps the cost is not horrible. But it is something to be mindful of.
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Seattle thoughts
Something about this day reminds me of the endless moments of potential that hang heavy whenever I’m in Seattle. A slow, and at the same time light stretching of my soul, as if something in me has just awoken
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The moment it all begins
He pulled her aside, away from the main floor but still in sight of others. Wanting her to feel safe but still private. The fire in his heart flared when he looked at her, uncertain to the purpose of this meeting. Weeks of casual flirting had led them here, to this.
“I’m going to kiss you,” he growled. His voice heavy with need and the hint of a question.
“ok,” she replied, soft and not sure where this was going.
She leaned in, eyes closed. but instead of the light pressure on lips she felt soft flesh against the side of her neck, kisses up the back of her, spine. The feel of him against her, kisses on her throat, small nibbles on her ears, his hands in her hair. kiss after kiss trailing across across her cheek until finally, the light kiss against lips; tongue licking against her inviting her, mouth open, pressure and need pushing and pulling, just this shapeless moment. Somehow heightened by the eyes of their coworkers. Breaking apart. His forehead rests against hers. Eyes to eyes.
“come out with me tonight?” he asks
Pelgris 