What sleeps may dream

Give this wavering line
This movement of sand
This sharp
This soft latex
Breathing in like summer wine
Summer dies in slow gasps
While winter builds piece on piece
Tell me your thoughts
Invite me into your memory
Summer shudders
Winter takes its first step
Take my hand
And dance
….
And wake

You are the storm, you say?

You speak of yourself as a storm. As if to warn me away. And in doing so, fail utterly, if that be your goal.

I am He who walks between. I speak with the embodiments of the elements, I cavort and hold friendship with those of air.

I follow the path of a lord of Storm, of night, of Winter.

You speak to me of your storm and I think, “Perfection.” Be you a storm. Strike wind and in fierceness know, in me you are home.

Should you care to make a place with me. Storms are not to be feared but loved. Shouted in joy. And should they calm, spoken soft words to and made ready for when next they stir.

Midsummer night

I’ve got no idea what I’m doing most days. Just getting through, just getting on
Some days I wish I had stayed asleep. Had never loved…and lost. I knew who I was then. What I would do with my life. But I was loved and I was lost. And those doors are long closed. Memories I can’t even share. Secret lives, no matter how far in the past are a burden you never put down.

I feel like I traveled in a time machine the hard way. By living it. By sleepwalking through it. Clawing my way back to some new chance that eludes me. Maybe because I want it so much. Maybe because I hold on so tight. Maybe because I can’t let go. I feel like I’m starting over when most people seem to have at least a semblance of an idea where they are going.

They’re making future plans and I’m just trying to plan for having a future.

And yet I look at them living lives and I don’t understand them.

Passionate weirdos and artists and nerds I get. I don’t understand the earn money to earn more money to buy vacations to keep going to the job you hate to keep the marriage going that’s stable but without passion. And still, I look at what they have and I’m envious.

They’re living their chances and I get a few but never know how to get past the start.
I keep starting over and over and I’m always back to this place. Confident but alone.
Wondering what’s next.
Wondering if all the possibilities are in the past and all I have are these words I scream in the wilderness and these days that pass so slowly and so fast.

Thought before bed

I have this reoccurring feeling that I sleep with someone in my arms. Their head resting on my chest, hearing the beating of my heart. We’re home. Together. We are each other’s home. 

Maybe it’s just a dream. Maybe it’s something else. It’s one of the few things that comfort my sad heart. I hope, if they are real, it comforts them too. 

The past speaks and shapes

Could be the light but I shine too narrow
only to the few do I burn
all else know me for darkness
bit and piece, all slip shadow
one to hold, one to kiss, one to love
Or arm in arm strike pose
But know me for a thieves lantern
Hooded and focused
Spilling not wide but focused
And each to each
One moment in sorrow and another
Spend joy
Spinning between grace and oblivion
Consumed by swift and sweet
Heart slows
Beats pound and breath comes languid
Hold you tight
But watch you slip free my grasp
These faultlines
Taste terrible freedom
Better to dream
Than live in forever
In your normal life

Valentine’s day 14 – Sara’s voice

I would have told Pel it was too soon had he bothered to ask me. I don’t disapprove and we had discussed it but I didn’t think he would be this rash. But of course he would.

I don’t know why I thought this time it’d be different. He takes awhile to work himself up to something but once he does, he commits to it fully. And there was never a stupidly romantic gesture that he could ever pass up.

Collared and married on the same day makes for a great story but Tara had to be overwhelmed. After we assured her that we both wanted this, she settled down. However, her nature is skittish as a colt.

Pel doesn’t realize that she is a true submissive. I’m sub behind the bedroom door. I am a proud pain slut but our 24/7 is all scene oriented. Tara needs to please her master and surprises throw her off. She’s thinking, what did she miss, what mistake did I make.

Pel knows about her abuse. He knows how to help her through that. How to treat her but he’s never had a true 24/7 Submissive. He’s lucky I’m here to help him. Cause he’d be at a loss. She’s sitting on his lap listening to him tell her a story. I imagine it’s something lascivious. And I hear the soft tinkle of her giggle.

I look over and see Pel looking at me. Knowingly, like he’s reading a book of my thoughts. He smiles and say “It’ll be OK, my brightest day.”

How does he fucking do that!
I reply, “Yes, my darkest night.” As protocol demands. Damn the man, he’s infuriating.
And he’s mine, mine, mine, I think as the grin breaks across my face.

The speaker is someone new. Tall and swarthy, kinda smarmy. Dark and cute but slimy. I don’t think he belongs here. We are protocol oriented and safety conscious.

Practically speaking, I think Pel uses this group to Vet potential masters before releasing them out into the wild. Tara’s former master is not abnormal. This lifestyle draws predators like flies to watermelon. I don’t think Pel appreciates their “interference” as he calls it.

He’s so feudal minded. He considers his territory to be inviolate and anyone that threatens that he removes. If I didn’t know that he took protecting us so seriously, that he did it from a place of love and trust, I’d think him a specialized serial killer. Looking for prey. But the community IS better for it. In a real way, our community needs policing as much as any society.